Rebirth

Has it ever happened to you? To feel that your life is a like a movie-script? The bad kind of a movie? With a shallow dialogue about the choice of the tomato, the monotony of the routined waking-up-before-the-alarm-clock, the “plan” for the day step by step down to the toilet-breaks, the surrender under the exhaustion of the unprecedented and so annoying hole in the sock, or the social pressure (from Facebook, for example) to wish “happy birthday” to someone whose friend request you accepted out of courtesy or to someone who is so dear to you that wishing “happy birthday” on Facebook will be taken as an insult. While this bad script goes through the mind, one observes passively the *things* in Japan – the things we see on TV and read about are just like … well, things that we read about and watch on the TV – distant, unrelatable, realistically fictitious (and fictitiously realistic?). Life becomes mere existence – just like the pen continues to write if there is ink and gravity, just like the glass lets all light through as long as it is not shattered, just like one can’t walk without standing up – life goes on until the muscles in the heart exhaust the last smidgeon of their DNA inspiration.

But this isn’t how the movie ends.

It is about that time of the day when you’ll surprise yourself and would break the rhythm. You’ll listen to new music, you’ll take that left turn that you always avoided, you’ll take off all burdon and leave it behind, you’ll sit and stare at those things you always took for granted, you’ll say “thank you” to everyone – one by one – in your mind (not to them – they don’t have to know it), you’ll merge with your primal instincts, you’ll remember where that DNA inspiration was hiding (hint: it’s all around us), you’ll absorb the sun through your skin better than the lizard can, you’ll protect what needs protection and you’ll succumb to what offers temptation.

Today, I listened to a bird. Today, I ran (away). Today, I took off my clothes. Today, I looked up from the edge. Today, I bathed in a mountain spring. Today, I merged with it. Today, I thanked the sun (for warming me up afterwards). Today, I felt my DNA. Today, I was reborn.

700 km

The last time I went to my grandparents’ place (my parents’ hometown where they grew up and studied together since grade 1 – sweet and almost surreal story in our society) was in 2008. By some standards, it is a long time ago; especially, by theirs. So, 350 km one way on Saturday (high-way speeds of questionably-legal limits), gave me a great sunny afternoon with them – to take pictures of their intent concentration, their swirling emotional states, their wisdom, their incessant contemplations of times gone by, their film-strips down memory lane, and their predictions of the future (with beans). And despite age, broken wrist that still needs healing, and … other things, they were full with energy. And it took my grandma a wink to prep herself with make-up, fancy suit and a silk scarf for the camera (and the photographer). And that was another walk down memory lane – for me – remembering those rooms in which I spent every summer, remembering those small utensils which hadn’t changed in 15 years, remembering the care and love that I received from them. With the pictures, I permanently fixed those memories. Again. In a share-able version.

Conquering Musala

Musala – the highest peak on the Balkan Peninsula. A cruel spot to visit in Summer, an even crueler to do so in Winter. At a height of close to 3000 meters above sea level and an unprecedented constant wind, it is surprising when the sun shines. It is one of those places I hadn’t yet visited in Rila Mountain. We left Sofia around 9:30 (just in the beginning of the Solar Eclipse which was quite visible thanks to the cover of clouds). We started our walk in Borovets around 11:30 (no lift) and by 1 we had managed the easiest part of the walk through a coniferous forest meandering between the small hills. We reached Mountain Hut “Musala” at 2389 meters (there is a dispute if this is the highest mountain hut in Bulgaria or if there is another one in the Balkans). That was our only stop where we had some tea, walnuts and honey (we were bringing the walnuts and the honey). The tough part started then – there was a slight wind and we were worried this may catch us off-guard. And indeed there was a spot where we had to walk on four legs but that was fine in the end. The final portion was the actual rock climbing – holding with both hands to the steel rope and praying that if you slip, your gloves will hold you well. We were not attached to the rope – we were just holding to it. On one side of the rocks was a fall into a pool of stones, on the other side of the rocks was a fall into an ice-frozen lake. Either one of them would have been deadly. Magically, around 4:30 we reached the final point and when we showed our faces across the ridge of the final step, the setting sun was like a nuclear blast in our face. It was a blessing! It was difficult to sleep there because of the thin air and the change of pressure. It may also have had something to do with the solar eclipse too. After a series of massages (proper ones – that make each spinal cord and every other bone crack), we had dinner in the form of tea, honey, walnuts and apples – all bio, all home-grown, all travelled 2000 m in altitude and about 20 km in latitude. I went out to shoot the stars for a while but at -16, neither I, nor my camera could last for too long hence the lack of patience with proper exposures and pure enjoyment of the view. The next morning, because of the difficulty with sleeping, it was a song to wake up for the sunrise – which is, as I was criticised to have said (“thin air” someone suggested), like a slowed down ocean of white cotton, illuminated in pink and pale blue light like a magical symbiosis of the male and female – because the cosmic energy is ubiquitous and omnipotent. Three very dangerous slips (I ended up hanging just on my hands), some further marveling at the lack of ANY wind, a couple of layers of clothes taken off, and 2:30 hours later, I was falling asleep in the car back. All pictures, made with Leica M9, and Summicron C 40/f2 (mostly at f5.6 or f8) – what a tough journey for that little piece of digital equipment – how it survived the -16 degrees temperatures, and kept functioning without hiccoughs, without change of battery or other problems, I’ll never know. The last 5 pictures have received almost no manipulation whatsoever (I should do a series one day of the different steps taken for clearing up one of these pictures from the beginning to the end).

Street Photography in Bulgaria

Many years ago (many by the standards of someone whose passport says 1985), I would come back to Bulgaria and would immediately put my shield (immediately=at the airport BEFORE the flight). I needed that shield for my own sanity – it is a culture shock – not that I wanted to keep my distance or that I felt ashamed of being Bulgarian. It had to do with change – in the same way as air pressure change leads to a headache, I had a headache experience when I looked at the faces of those Bulgarian flying back to Sofia – I used to play this game in my mind trying to guess if the person is Bulgarian or a foreigner going to Bulgaria just by looking at their facial expression. Statistically, I would have in most cases won had I bet on him/her being Bulgarian but it wasn’t also difficult to differentiate them simply because the neutral expression isn’t neutral – it is tense, worried, full of contempt even.

Over the years, and especially since picking up street photography, I have come to rely on the camera as the shield which has opened my understanding for such looks. And it is not that this is a reflection of the soul – no. Just like my camera, such a facial expression is a shield and you can see it drop when the person talks on the phone with a loved one, or when the boy feeds the birds, or when they hand together chatting about girly things, or when in the grey reality of the day he walks with a flower in hand, or when their orange hair (which is rare on one person in the streets let alone two people next to each other) flows in the low afternoon sun.

All shot from the hip (and as such they are “deliberate accidents”) at f8 or f11 (Summicron C40/f2) pre-set based on the distance indicators on the lens barrel.

Everyday Magic

I always try to look for the positive things on the street with my street photography and some time ago I asked my twitter and facebook followers for topics for a shooting challenge – Elena had one of the most inspirational topics: “Everyday Magic”. It took me more than a month to collect something for her. These six pictures to me capture those slivers of the daily routine of the people involved. The camera man becomes somewhat of a voyeur – staying away, and yet penetrating a most intimate moment. Photography for me is not merely a chance to immortalize a moment – it is the experience of that moment – none of these events would have been memorable to me if I had not taken a picture of them, if I had not seen them in a still frame through a small window, if I had not studied them afterwards, if I had simply continued my walk through the city, if all elements did not fall into place on their own: the woman with her hand on her forehead when she sees the gay couple, the two men staring at the kissing couple on the stairs, the ignorant isolated bliss of the kissing couple, the two dogs politely sniffing each other in the middle of the big square, the boy that wanted to take a picture of the couple but got distracted by the street photographer taking picture of him…