Her viral negatives

Again I’m taking this blog on different subject. A lady photographer. Yes, don’t be shock you read it right. A lady photographer. I can’t believe I’m writing on this ancient old subject but I have to. And I want it too. Ever wondered Why there are NOT many female photographers in this modern era? I didn’t know either, till I come to know about this documentary “Finding Vivian Maier”. (I’m pretty sure you all knew it; if not, then Google it. Its time you do.) Never imagined that there is already a person who did the same what I’m actually doing now. “History repeats itself” thing. Maybe. I still don’t know. Honestly, I loved it since I can relate it. What a perception. What a beautiful eyes for it. For her photography work. And many other as well.

Wonders why and vivianwhat she did in that era. Her (discovered) work includes over 100,000 mostly medium format negatives, thousands of prints, and countless undeveloped rolls of film. It’s still inspiring to this generation. Photographers don’t reveal everything as rare and true they are to their skills. The difference between any movie and a photograph is that the former reveals too much of an answer while the latter one asks too many questions. True to my own photography skills, I don’t reveal her identity more (as she wanted too!). None of any photographers do. The eye she had for photography. Needless to say, I am attracted to her work.

Don’t believe me, just watch. The problem with a morning person is it’s already afternoon and s/he doesn’t know when, where, how to stop. Don’t want to reveal every thing about the documentary since it is about photography you have to now watch it and find out yourself. Then think and thank me why I didn’t. Sure enough you’ve heard about movie review. (Not exactly the way you’re expecting, but still) This is documentary review. And feel free to expect it more.

Anyways, when it comes to documentary, writing/typing is always a pain; true to my very own line Watching is the easiest thing to do after sleeping! I’ve compiled a list of 10 of my favouritest documentaries on the same subject, in no particular order. 1. In No Great Hurry, 2. Public Speaking, 3. Smash His Camera, 4. George Tice, 5. Teenage Paparazzo, 6. What Remains: The Life and Work of Sally Mann, 7. Rock Prophecies, 8. Arakimentari, 9. Everybody Street, 10. Eye On The Sixties… Needless to say, it’s impossible to have do justice to the list. I find them interesting and hope you’ll too. Your clicked pictures worth a thousand words not hashtags. So take a break from your Flickr, instagram, snapchat or other internet boons and watch. It’s worth your attention and time of course! You can always thank me later.

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Memories

You know it’s time to write a blog post when you start typing random things and keep on deleting them. Today was one of those days. So, here I am. Okay nothing just stupidity here. If you don’t have occupied your time somewhere. Yeah then, you’re welcome to join me and my not-at-all-writing skills.

I was in this extremely boring wedding today so I was doing all sorts of shit to keep myself occupied. And entertained. Seriously hat’s off for the women who wears saaris and handle themselves smoothly. Of course I’ve received some good compliments for it. But it just not my cup of coffee. Handled myself very I was eating paneer tikka with noodles and I was mixing orange juice with tomato soup and seeing how kids are maintaining this social occasion with their parents’ never ending warnings and I was talking to the waiters and I was observing (yeah. As usual). I saw 14 years old were dancing, 18 years old were thinking about dancing and 35 years olds were breaking the stage with their devastating moves.

Also, I saw everyone clicking pictures with their fancy cameras while all this was happening. 70 year old grandparents were asked to put the tilak once again because somehow the photographers couldn’t capture the moment well enough the first time. And the grandparents were doing it too, with smiles, big fake ones. Kids were clicking pictures with the mobile of their parents’ mobile phones. Their parents had professional cameras. The professional photographers had the more professional ones. It was a circus. A complete circus. It seemed like the wedding was happening only for the photographs. They were capturing memories so that they could relive it. Relive, ah! To relive, you got to live first. Two blacks make white, two wrongs make right.

It’s funny how most of the memories of our lives depend upon a small piece of plastic and techie technology. If there were no cameras, I bet it would’ve been difficult recognizing ourselves in our childhood pictures because there wouldn’t have been any childhood pictures. If we think about it, we have invented things so that our minds don’t have to remember shit. No memories of your past? Invent a camera. Can’t remember data?
Invent a computer. Can’t remember meetings? Invent reminders. Can’t calculate?
Well don’t worry dear mind, calculators are there. And thus, our minds started getting less occupied.

And what do you do when you don’t have anything in your mind? You invent. You invent more useless shit to comfort your lives. For a fact, my family never had a camera. We never bothered to buy one. I don’t have a reason to get embarrassed. There are no pictures of my parents having fun with me. Because we’re actually enjoying it without the worry one should capture them instead we’ve had enjoy for real. And what’s the point anyway? You aren’t going to forget who you are or who your brother was or who your parents are! I never understood this whole thing but I’m no one to claim that it’s bullshit. Until today, I never gave cameras much of a thought.

I always knew, I got to buy one someday. I always wanted to. But now, I don’t think we really need a camera. I mean we do remember stuff. If we can’t, then the stuff was probably not worth remembering. The whole thing of smiling and crying and smiling again after seeing the old photographs looks somewhat odd and ridiculous. I might never buy a camera. I don’t want to capture my kids’ childhood. I don’t want to cry looking at the photographs when they would go away to earn or to study. I don’t want that shit. I don’t give a shit about what toys my girl played with when she was small. And I bet on my life, she wouldn’t give a shit either when she would be twenty. Capturing a picture of your girl playing with those toys and reminding her twenty years later about how you cared about her says a lot about you.

Well, I certainly won’t need validation from my kids. Also, I’m not saying that people do these things for validation. They might not. It might just be their thing to look at the old photographs and cry. Anyway, so when the wedding got over, we handed the envelope to the groom and got ourselves clicked, for one last time. We were getting ready to go back home.

One strange thing happened I think it waited for a long to happen. My parents saw this one woman trying to have a conversation with her little girl. The girl was around 10 and she was probably going back home from her school. It probably wasn’t a good day in the school as she looked upset. The sight was beautiful as her mom and dad was making faces, playing with her and what not, just to make their girl smile. Seeing this, my mom started crying. Some memories flashed in her mind, maybe. Memories. I wish there were a device to delete the memories instead of capturing them.

Point to be noted: I never accepted the fact that I was depressed until I met my psych.
so if you think you are in depression, go to a psych, start your medication, take them until you realize it’s a big trap and then come here and read this blog post again and blame your so-called mind for not taking this post seriously before. And get depressed again.
If you aren’t happy, don’t worry, no one is.