“Kai,
why do you like photography?”
He
snapped a picture of a Silver-studded Blue butterfly taking flight from its
rest on a golden sunflower, its white and blue wings apparent under the setting
sun’s rays, before he looked up with a frown on his flawless face. His brown
orbs looked past me as he considered the question. A slight breeze tousled his
cherry red hair out of place and he unconsciously reached up to pat it back in
place. I could not help but noticed the visible skin beneath his uplifted
shirt. Our eyes met for the briefest of moment after and I had to look away
under his knowing look. The frown removed itself from his face to be replaced by
a teasing smile.
“Maybe
it is because I grew up holding a camera that I cannot imagine myself doing
anything else besides photography,” he finally answered. “But if I am to be
honest,” he stepped away from the patch of sunflowers and toward me on the
path, “it is because photography is the only form of art that I can express
myself in.”
He
joined me on the path and we continued through the garden. The scent of flowers
surrounding us deepened the further we walked toward the center of the garden.
A stream of varied bright and colorful flowers met our eyes as well while far
off in the distance the sounds of chirping birds filled our ears. Kai continued
to fill the memory chip in his Sony SLT-A55 as if oblivious to his surroundings,
but I knew that between us he was the keenest.
“What
do you mean?” I asked as I watched him squat down next to a daisy before
snapping a picture of it. “Although photography may be considered a form of
art, you still cannot express yourself through it. It is different from
painting and drawing or even singing and dancing.”
Kai
stood up, took one last look at his camera screen, and then covered the
camera’s lens. He motioned in the direction that we came from and we turned
back. “You’re right when you said that photography is different from the other
kinds of art. However, it is only different due to its reversed techniques of
expressions. Other than that, photography is not much different from you
singing and dancing, or me painting and drawing, but God knows I cannot do
either.”
We
both laughed at his last statement. Overhead the sun’s rays were becoming less
intense and the sound of chirping birds has been replaced by buzzing insects.
Night was fast approaching and out here in the suburb the night can become
pitch black without any source of lights. Yet, neither of us bothered to speed
up our pace as we sauntered back toward the parked car in the emptied parking
lot.
“I
still do not understand….”
Kai
paused for a moment to consider his explanation. Then he said, “With the other
forms of art, the artists have to create the art themselves before they can
show it. With photography, the art is already present; the artists just need to
reveal it. So you’re wondering how I can express myself through an artwork that
I did not create myself. Well, my pictures are my artworks. I may not have
created the objects in my pictures, but the fact that I even bothered to take
pictures of those objects makes them my artworks. If a person wanted to know
the kind of person that I am, then he or she must look through my pictures and
focused on the objects in them. They will tell that person the kind of person
that I am.”
We
emerged from the garden path and onto the cemented lot. The sun has gone into
hiding then, and night has taken over. It was a cloudy night, so Kai took out
his cellphone and flipped it on. The small light from his phone chased away the
dark surrounding our feet. He took hold of my hand and we made our slow
progress toward the car.
“Have
you ever heard of the phrase ‘a picture is worth a thousand words’?” Although
he could not see me shake my head no in the dark, he carried on the conversation
as if he had. “It is a phrase used to refer to the idea that a complex
situation or idea can be conveyed through a simple image. Thus, it is one of my
favorite phrases. I know I might not
become a professional photographer in the future but I still hope to evoke some
form of feelings through my photographs. If a single picture can produce even
the smallest smile on someone’s face, then I am content.”
We
have reached the car by now and he walked me over to the passenger’s side. Even
though the summer night air is warm, my hand felt emptied and cold when he let
go of it to open the door. He held out his cellphone as I climbed inside the
car.
“In
other words, you like photography because you can share a part of yourself with
the people around you through it.” I looked up at him from inside the car.
He
turned the cellphone around to face him so that I could see him nod. “That and
the fact that photography is the only way I can retain some of my memories.”
“Like?”
“Like tonight. Twenty years from now if I come upon that picture of you staring off into the horizon where the sun was setting, I will remember that I was here in this place taking pictures with you.” He must have expected my surprised reaction because he flashed me a wide smile before he closed the door. Outside the car the small light moved away from his face back to the ground and I was left to wait in the dark car.
“Like tonight. Twenty years from now if I come upon that picture of you staring off into the horizon where the sun was setting, I will remember that I was here in this place taking pictures with you.” He must have expected my surprised reaction because he flashed me a wide smile before he closed the door. Outside the car the small light moved away from his face back to the ground and I was left to wait in the dark car.
[Click to go to Official Stage.]
[Official date of completion: August 2011]
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