Victory to Truth and Honor: A Salutation Like No Other

For me and for so many other street and social documentary photographers, and especially those of us coming from a Humanist position, creating good photos that celebrate humanity and tell stories and show scenes that enrich the viewer, it is not enough to have the right camera, understand composition and the rest. Of course I for one will never know enough to fully do justice to the work I do. But like all things in life, it's a lifelong learning process.

No, for me and those others, the making of good work comes from a broader based learning. It comes from an engagement with other art forms and movements. It comes from an ongoing study into what makes us human, why we do what we do. It comes from a knowledge of how society functions, how we all fit into our environment. In other words, in order to be a good street or social documentary photographer I believe that one has to at least be making the attempt to become a well informed, well rounded, human being.

Today's post isn't directly about these ideas. It's more about an aspect of communication in which we have the opportunity to not only revive an old courtesy that seems to be fading away, but also to let others know a little at least of what drives us: the ongoing and never-ending pursuit of honor and truth.

A while back I reconnected with a very good friend. We'd been out of touch for a many years, and I tell you it was really good to hear from him again. I think we've kind of taken off just where we left off. Anyway, I was looking at old emails from him (he used to send his poetry out to people on his list; ah, the good old days when you had to actually email people to share your writing, thoughts, ideas, whatever), and I noticed a really nice sentence he used on one as a way of signing off. He wrote:

Vishwa dharma ki jai

This is Sanskrit and means (according to my friend), 'victory to universal truth and honour'. When I read this expression, I was moved. Now, I don't have a problem with 'yours sincerely' or 'kind regards' and so on, as ways of signing off  an email or (just imagine)  a letter. Indeed, I think those salutations (is that the right word?) can be meaningful and can carry heartfelt and sincere wishes from one person to another.

However, as with all things we do 'automatically' and as a matter of course, these expressions seem to  have lost much, if not all their true meanings. In fact, how often do we get emails with no such signing off, and with merely the sender's name at the bottom? Actually, now I think about it, I remember emails that have no name signing off. On the face of it that might seem rude, but most often it isn't: people and  the way they communicate are changing; I guess some of these so-called 'niceties' are just naturally going to be lost.

So, when I read my friend's Sanskrit salutation, I thought, hey, I'm going to make sure that I for one do not forget these traditional expressions of good wishes and salutation. And what better salutation for a truth seeker (that's me) than my friend's?

It might be that a wish for the victory of universal truth and honor sounds a bit old fashioned, a bit formal even. Not at all: how up to date, how necessary in our materialistic, fast-paced and sometimes lonely and corrupt world, is it to seek truth and to act with honor. Honor isn't the fuddy-duddy, formal term you might think. Look it up: it's about honesty, truth, right behavior, integrity, all that good and right stuff.

So, I'm going to try to use this great salutation whenever I can. After all, it does say a lot about my attitude to my work as a street and social documentary photographer.

And my message to you, dear reader? Vishwa dharma ki jai

I'm Back: This post is a real treat: My photos accompany a beautiful song sung beautifully!

Hello my friends

Yes I know: it's been a while. Who knows how time goes and why and what happens when we allow it to fly by unnoticed or allow it to be occupied (ie stolen) by the mundane, unimportant and wasteful? Well, no more!! I am the master of my own time, and that's all we will say about it.

For my first post in this new era, there is a treat awaiting all of you.

A while ago I was asked by a folk singing couple if they could use some of my street photos as backing for a song by Bette Midler, The Rose, in a video they wished to produce. The Rose? How could I say no? I had already heard these wonderful artists doing their rendition of this fantastic song, which was the title track and name of the movie starring Bette Midler (if you haven't seen the movie, then please please get hold of the DVD).

And the result? Well when I first saw the video I was speechless. Susan and Colin Parrish had transformed my photos. Well, they were the same images: they hadn't changed. But as I watched them roll by and listened to that heart achingly beautiful song, I was blown away by the power and the beauty of the two very different art forms combined. And the message they wished to convey, and that which is inherent in this song, is there for all to see: Everyone is a flower, a rose. We all have that seed within us to become a beautiful bloom. We are all special, no matter what. I have tried to live this ideal, and I am grateful to Colin and Sue for allowing me to join with them in presenting this simple but profound idea to you all. I urge you to listen closely to the lyrics. They never cease to inspire and move me.

Both they and I have had very positive feedback from people who have seen the video. I hope you will enjoy it as much as they have. It's on YouTube and here is the link. After watching this video I am sure you are going to want to know more about these wonderful artists and their group Takin' Time. So, you can find their website here. I am lucky enough to have both their albums. Wonderful songs sung wonderfully.

It's good to be back on this blog. I hope it's good for you too!!
Peace
Paul

The Stare of the Ex-eeRoadie

I am assuming we all know what a roadie is? False assumption? Yes, well a roadie is a person who travels with a band and does all the heavy lifting. You know the things like setting up the stage, unpacking instruments, carrying the can when something goes wrong. You know? Oh, sometimes they also make coffee, make sandwiches and generally are there to help the band to do its thing.
    Well, this guy is an ex roadie. Which means he used to do all the above and, by the look of his tired and weathered face, a whole lot more. Anyway, he's retired now, and I found him just sitting back enjoying some very cool Blues music at a festival recently held in the town I live in. He isn't a rich man: I mean, a roadie doesn't earn much at the best of times, and a retired roadie, well, he's not much good for anything else is he? He says he was too busy out there on the road and had no time for all that extra schooling that getting a "qualification" would have meant. Besides, there was a lot of fun to be had!
      Our friend here does manage from time to time to pick up a bit of light work with the odd band here and there. But, after lugging heavy gear like speakers and other stuff for years, his back isn't what it used to be. Anyway, his lungs aren't too good either after spending too many years in smoky venues with the bands he worked for.
      But, he gets by. That's what he wants me to know. What with the dole and the odd casual gig, he even manages to get to the odd concert or festival. He likes to keep his hand and his ear in the loop so to speak. He is on the whole a happy chappy who wouldn't change one minute of his life. He's earned those wrinkles and he's damn proud of every one, okay?
      Now I have a bit of bad news for you dear blog reader. A lot of the facts above are just not facts. I made a lot of it up. Surprised? Of course you are. Anyway, here's the thing: What have I made up? And what facts are for real?
      Can't say? Of course you can't. You weren't there. You don't know this guy. Why some of you don't even know me! You give up? Okay I will tell you. Here are the facts:
1. I was the photographer
2. The picture was made at the Blues Festival as I said
3.The guy is a man (well I think he is anyway)
     And that's it. I have no idea what he does or did for a living; I didn't speak to him. Not a word. So there really are only those three (sort of) facts known to me, and therefore to you dear reader(s). But, I have another question for you. Do I or you know for sure that the other "facts" in the little tale above are false? Of course we can't know can we?. We could, I think, make an educated guess about what this guy does or did for a living. But at the end of the day it would be just that: a guess. We could guess that his weathered face was caused by hard work and/or hard living. Again, just a guess. And who can say anything about the state of his health? That part of my little story really just flowed from all the other bits I made up.
    My point is this. A photograph does indeed tell us stories. There is, at least in this kind of portrait made on the street, a narrative that can be drawn from the picture. As we have just read, facts are few and far between in this kind of street work, especially when it is a case of making photographs on the run as I do.
    But what about truth? Just because my facts are invented, does that mean there is no truth present here? No, I don't think it means that at all. Here we have a man, a "middle-aged' man (sorry not a term I like but you get the picture) with "hair" and a weathered face. He was at a music festival and he looked very satisfied with the situation thank you very much.
    No. I think what I have managed to do in this image, and with my little invented biography above, is capture some essence of truth; some fragment of a reality not my own; some little piece of the life of another person. I would now like to make  reference (as I have several times in the past and as I no doubt will again in the future) to a cliche, that, after all, being a cliche must contain some element of a truth.
    I am a story teller. In the current context I tell stories through the magical (in my humble opinion) medium of photography, more specifically, street photography. As a story teller, I am given (by whom I am not sure: perhaps by the gods of Art?) licence to tell stories in which, while the facts may be invented, there is at least  the essence of truth. This essence goes beyond mundane facts and appeals to the heart and soul of the audience. That's you by the way.
I have a challenge for you. I challenge you to come back to me and tell me your mind wasn't engaged, nor your heart touched and your soul remained un-shifted. I bet you can't do it! Why am I so sure? Because I have given this image life, with the very able assistance of the gentle man in the image. (Well I don't know if he is a gentle man or not; he just looks like one to me. Okay?)
I think this discussion should now be turned over to you, my valued and dear readers.
Peace to you all
Paul

Wearin' the Green? Well it 'Ain't So Simple You Know

So many "Celtic Festivals", St Patrick's Day celebrations, such popularity for "Celtic music". We adorn ourselves and our entertainment with the green tinge of the Irish and give it not another thought. Even those of us of Irish descent, are prone to the trivialisation of the culture, the symbols, the history of that island that, for most, is really only a place of dreams.

For me, it is a place of ancestors. My father was born there, only to become part of the Irish Diaspora; my great grandfather according to family tradition was executed by the English as a rebel/freedom fighter/terrorist. And me? I spent a long weekend in Dublin and surrounds a long time ago, and have yet to visit to explore and discover ancestors, ghosts, the truth of that part of my story.

On May 6 1981 I heard on the radio that IRA soldier Bobby Sands died after a long hunger strike in what I was then calling an English concentration camp. My horror and anger came out in a small and not especially good poem.

At first the juxtaposition of the image above and this little tribute to a dead "terrorist" might seem odd. But, for me, it in a real sense illustrates and points to the obscenity of a blind donning of colours, the superficial adopting of culture for fun or entertainment. It also highlights that there was once a son (my grandfather) whose father was lost to a fight for freedom as so many have been lost before, are now being lost and will forever be lost to such fights in an unknowable, but often predictable future

Lest We Forget

FOR BOBBY SANDS

Ireland.

Home of ancestors.

Defiled by British guns

For centuries

Too long.

British go home.
Let my people go.
How many more will die
For your greed?
Your arrogance?


You have no right.