In many ways it was an eye opening event for me.
Firstly, and most importantly, I have a deep respect for each and every person who dedicated their time to walk in the name of respect and equality.
Secondly, the moment when the police allowed me to cross the barricade separating the marchers and the nationalists, I had a profound moment of realising the power of my camera. In that moment I didn’t carry a camera – I carried a passport. I was with those who fought for and with those who fought against. That magic invisibility coat I seemed to be wearing made me fell in love with photography again, and again.
These are perfect strangers I met on Sunday. Each of them shared a moment and a story with me. I can’t quite exactly explain what made me pick them from the crowd but I instinctively felt something unique going on.
Meet the crazy pavement artist, the lovely man with crazy sunglasses and a traveler from Kansas with a German origin.
I’ll let you match the descriptions yourself.
The man in the photo studio told me that my film is long expired and there’s no point in scanning it.
But well, I like photographing on expired film. Mainly because you never know what you’ll get. When you finally see the photographs it’s nothing what you expected, nothing that you could remember – almost like the moment you captured on the photo has never happened. It feels like looking at your memories from a different perspective, something that is new but old at the same time.
A little bit like remembering something that you forgot a long time ago. That’s what I mainly like about the expired film.
(…) Recognition of the impermanence and transience of life is a central tenet of Buddhism, and indeed of most Eastern philosophies. Buddhism holds that life is marked by three key qualities. The first two are impermanence and insubstantiality, referred to in Japanese respectively as mujō (無常) and muga (無我) However, unfortunately, most of us live in denial or ignorance of mujō and muga, clinging resolutely to phenomena that are intrinsically subject to change. This kind of clinging is then the cause of the third “mark” of existence, namely ku (苦), which translates as dissatisfaction or suffering. However, the promise of Buddhism is that liberation can be found through a deep understanding and acceptance of mujō and muga.
This is where mono no aware comes in. With this mood, acceptance of impermanence and insubstantiality is elevated into an aesthetic sensibility, a state of mind that actually appreciates this ephemerality. This does not mean impermanence is welcomed or celebrated. There is still sadness present in mono no aware, a sorrow at this transiency, of the loss of people and things that are precious to us. However, this melancholy is suffused with a quiet rejoicing in the fact that we had the chance to witness the beauty of life at all, however fleetingly. (…)