Tag Archives: feelings

With his left hand he pushes the wheel forward, at the same time stepping hard with his left leg on the ground. The wheelchair tends to move not forward but slightly to the left, so he constantly needs to readjust the direction. I cannot see his face, but his hair is long and greyish white. Yellow sweater.

It’s taking a painfully long amount of time for him to cross the narrow street; it seemed the wheelchair almost went opposite direction to what he was trying to achieve.

At last, he reached the sidewalk. With the slight hill. As a passerby, you wouldn’t even notice the incline, but for him that must have been a challenge. I thought I should probably cross the street and help him. While I was contemplating – and no, it didn’t last longer then 10 seconds which seemed like few minutes to me – he managed to overcome the incline and continue crawl along the sidewalk.  I could see his right leg, or whatever was left of it, trembling (or did I imagine it?), I could sense the whole body going tense. I could almost hear that desperation and determination at the same time. I cannot really explain my vision of this, but mostly it was brought by memories of my tortures during walking (or trying to) when I had my own health issues. And not a single passerby offered help: not blaming, as I looked more like a drunkard or stoner rather than young woman struck by chronic horrific pain. Would I be grateful to a stranger offering me help on my way when I couldn’t stand up or was simply stuck? At first yes, of course, but at second thought I would feel really depressed thinking that I did not have ability to go on anymore, to do it on my own. And I think mainly why I survived those couple years was that I knew I could do it on my own, that I was strong enough. So looking at that man with his right side paralyzed, I kept thinking that he would manage it on his own. That he must and that he will. I almost started to send him vibes “go on, don’t stop, you can do it.” I was ready to run and help if something went wrong but I knew that he’d make it.

This was very emotional for me to watch – and not only because I could relate to this man in his helplessness and yet determination to go on. The wheelchair he used was a manual one, as you already could guess. The manual one with two handlers on the top. It is meant to be pushed by somebody else, helping him to go over this hill and many others, too. They just looked so empty. Too empty.

In a sense, we all have these handlers behind us, and sometimes (or most of the times) they might seem empty. Should we rush to take them and push each other? I believe we like when we do it on our own, but when we cannot we appreciate when somebody is nearby ready to help us..

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White Spring

Without knock,

Without warrant,

White Spring threw doors wide open,

Bursting into sudden silver flames..IMG_8356

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Children’s Manifesto

I wanted to make post about kids. Children. 

Why always so serious? Let’s get bit childish, because as a matter of fact I’m only pretending to be an adult. I am the one, I might be — but, I think, emotionally (and, on special occasion, intellectually) I’m just a child. That being sad, I do not mean anything bad — many children are much smarter and wiser then most of us, spoiled “adults.” And I would like to toast this with my memories of one light-hearted demonstration.

I call it demonstration because of the nature of this event, which was sparkling with flags, signs (something against of, something in support of) and thousand(s) of people, I’m not exaggerating here. The official title was “Walk for Israel”, it was back in 2011, Toronto, and I still remember it vividly… I was amazed not only at the amount of people but rather at the whole participation: all 4 generations passed by me — parents brought their children, their babies, their toddlers, their own parents, their grandparents — yes, the entire families, sometimes with pets (dogs; no parrots on the shoulders spotted) decided to forgo the Sunday sleep and came out on the streets altogether.

Now, this is not a political blog (yaaay…), and I’m not a political commentator. While I was taking pictures of this event, I was mostly interested in a) practicing photo journalistic skills in capturing portraits in motion b) unusual faces and/or moments. And just a couple minutes later I realized who should be the number one subject in my photographs — kids. They do not try to hide their emotions, they are very natural with their feelings and face expressions, their wishes and desires. Sometimes curious and wild, sometimes sleepy and lazy, they definitely made my day back then.

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While adults are busy demonstrating, children are left with classic boredom, longing for the sleep and their comforting plush toys:)

The Walk is few kilometres, no wonder somebody gets tired and impatient while riding dad’s shoulders… ah, miss that time with my dad! Love the last two pictures– these girls are true princesses.

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Although here I managed to capture mostly the hat, I still like that smiling feel the photo gives.

…Seems like the most passion and fire happen in the lower levels of the Walk: the kids get serious with arguments, freeze with astonishment and sometimes become quite pugnacious..

Maybe for somebody this was a happy day, spent with friends and pride — for some it is yet another Sunday spent not exactly they way it was planned earlier…

Flags. They give the sense of pride, purpose, meaning.. and direction. maybe.

Maybe not. Maybe they mislead us. I took pictures of kids, trying to grasp their emotions and feelings during such event. They don’t care about politics, they have their own brother-sister conflicts over things like a toy, popsicle or seat in the rolling bin. Some do have fun, some are getting bored… They don’t understand why they have to carry on that blue and white piece of cloth; they would rather worry about not losing their mom’s hand out of the sight and enjoy their children’s world while adults keep fighting over it. And I’m talking in general, not in particular about the above mentioned event that actually appeared to be very joyful and cheerful in its essence.

Momentum

Single work of art – be it a visual piece like painting or sculpture, or rather physical like dance or theatre – is not alive till the viewer sees it and, by analysing (often unconsciously) starts interpreting it. The painter might have a certain meaning for his entire work, however, as an audience, we usually only take small, separate details out of it. The more we analyze the painting, the less it stays the whole for us — the more it breaks into pieces, each having its own meaning and interpretation. One could say that a viewer develops the work of art further, into its “life.”

These details and tiny moments worth of second that we notice, sometimes can be discovered in newer works and can show the whole piece in completely new light..

The following represents one such intimate experience of mine with works of art, particularly Henry Moore sculptures and dancer Benjamin Kamino performance of Nudity. Desire – long drawn.

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The Maze of Emotions

Originally, it is a huge retro TV screen frame with control buttons on the sides, on plain greyish wall. There is nothing nearby, it is empty wall of the rough several stories building bordering wasteland.

Dead End

Once I saw it, I immediately had few ideas about how I would play with the image, but the result actually came very spontaneously out of my hand. I came up with different versions of image, but this one is so far my favourite.

This is my Imagery of my self discovery. This is an Imagery of tense and confusing relationship of two “persons” inside me, call it Me and my Intuition, or Me and Inner Voice, or Me Rational and Me Emotional, or Me and Self. We dig ourselves quite deeply, but not always we discover desired results at the bottom. It could be emptiness, it could be mirror with mutilated reflection. It could be Dead End.

This is my Imagery of the labyrinth of the consciousness. The maze with Dead End, or sometimes the infinite maze. Sometimes, in order to move on, to go further, we have only one obstacle. And that obstacle is us, ourselves.

This was my Vision of dragging and exhausting relationship between two people. Each person could not put aside his own ego to preserve the relations. Each was not willing to compromise and was not willing to create exit for the maze of emotions. Sometimes it is easier to wander around and around, dragging confusion and irritation along, rather then break the wall and exit the labyrinth. For every labyrinth conceals hopefulness, because every time you are on the edge of breaking out, you feel the slight bittersweet taste of hope that the next turn will open the door for you.

This was my Vision of the person who was at the same time the closest-to and furthest-from me then everybody else in the world. This person had locked himself inside under hundreds of locks, carefully building up false masks. You open door after door, and with every open new door you see different false mask of him. I guess this is sort of self defence that many of us build. 

But be careful, with all pyramid of masks and layers you can loose and forget true yourself.

Ironically, this is the one and only photograph of that person. Maybe that is for better I do not have picture of his face and it gradually faded away in my mind. Maybe after a while I will remember that story as the Tale of my Imagery.