Find Your Obsession

Ethics and methods.

Everyone has their own personal set of each.  Some arise from moral standards, some arise from experience, some arise from goodness knows where.

Drive and dedication.

These often stem from those same sources, manifesting in unique ways for each individual.

Each of these are subject to question, doubt and accusation from those who hold different or opposing views.  Each of these draw admiration, awe and inspiration from those who hold similar views.  Interpretation is a funny thing, be it over textual or visual sources.

Annie Leibovitz and James Nachtwey are two world-renown photographers.  Both have molded their lives around their work in very different ways.  Both have two very different subject matters.  But they share the same drive to adequately and stunningly depict their topics.  Both immerse themselves in the lives of their subject matter.  Leibovitz seems to actively participate in the lives she photographs, however, whereas Nachtwey retains a wall that separates him from the lives he photographs.

Having seen the films on each photographer, I must admit that there are aspects of each I cannot meld into my own methods and morals.

From Killers Kill, Dead Men Die

Many of Leibovitz's shots now are staged, arranged down to the smallest freckle on a celebrity's face.  I don't mind editing photos digitally, but that level of setting up a shot takes away authenticity, I think.   Searching Google for her work, there were very few older, black and white pieces from her early days with the Rolling Stone.  Those were the photos I felt something from.  The one I've selected was selected because it reminded me of an evening I had during this past summer.

Kosovo, 1999 - Deportees returned during harvest time.

I feel that Nachtwey is too removed from his subjects.  Watching the film, I couldn't help thinking that he must be dead inside to see such grief right in front of him and doing nothing but photograph it.  He said that he was accepted by the people and that's how he got his shots.  I couldn't help but wonder if he was truly accepted or just  off the radar because of the overwhelming grief the women were experiencing.  Wartime has a different set of rules, a different sense of what's okay and what's not, and that's how he gets away with his shots.  Granted, I assume he's jaded from all he's seen, but something, somewhere, must boil his blood and make him want to do something more visible than photograph.

I realize that the ideas and methods I can gleam from these two.  I need not be afraid to go for the shots I want.  I should get to know those I'm photographing.  I should be involved in the matters at hand to capture the most expressive and emotive photographs possible.  However, with my time in Japan being so limited and the subject matter of the blogs changing each week, I can't seem to wrap my mind around accomplishing this.

Photographs:

Leibovitz, Annie. Photograph from the movie Killers Kill, Dead Men Die.

Nachtwey, James.  Photograph from Kosovo in 1999.

These photographs are the properties of their respective owners.

I take no credit for photographs included in this blog post.

A Little Happy Goes a Long Way

My first introduction to Miho was via a purikura profile picture on Facebook.  It was one of those distorting ones that lightened the hair and enlarged the eyes, so it was difficult to tell what she actually looked like, or what her passions were.

The one thing I've found that holds true is that her whole mouth is always involved in her smile.

Her entire face changes when she's happy, almost to the point that one wouldn't recognize her without that trademark, ear-to-ear grin.  It isn't fake, it isn't forced.  It's full of joy and life and, well, Miho.

It translates to the rest of her countenance, as well.  When her face is alight, her walk is bouncy and easy, with just a hint of a march; swinging her arms high and bending her legs at the knee only slightly.  It feels childish, but it's infectiously compelling.

She speaks French.  She's been to Paris and New York.  She sleeps until mid-morning.  She has a comfortable style.  She's a social butterfly.  She works as a waitress.  She's very patient with non-Japanese-speaking Americans.  She isn't a Pokemon fan but thinks Pichu is adorable.  She's afraid of heights but brave enough to ride a Ferris wheel.

A day spent with Miho is a grand memory.  I hope I have ample opportunity to spend time with her and that she doesn't lose that marvelous quality of happy she's mastered.