Bride’s Hands: Feelings, Anticipation and Emotions

I was at a wedding in Colorado. There were professional photographers clicking non-stop from every angle, all the time. I had my 1970s Nikkor 105mm lens on my camera and wanted to capture a different story from that of the wedding itself.

So, I decided to focus on the left hand of the bride at the moments leading to the groom sliding the ring on her finger. It should be one of the more memorable yet tense moments. It is beyond the words exchanged until that point. It is concrete. A precious metal ring will soon circle that finger indicating that all is now real. That moment is a life changer.

I have always been fascinated by body posture during street photography. Small moves and bends express the feelings of the subject (https://liveingray.blogspot.com/2017/01/aesthetics-that-tell-story-fluidity-of.html ). One of my projects that has generated many comments was my attempt looking at people from a dog’s perspective. Not surprisingly I captured a lot of legs from that angle of view (https://liveingray.blogspot.com/2014/09/street-photography-from-dogs-perspective.html ).

Hands are even more special. In most parts of the globe our first impression of the other person comes after a handshake. It lasts a few seconds, but we can tell a lot about the person. The handshake can be dominant, submissive, accepting, imposing, suggestive or indifferent. A wet palm exposes the person immediately; a lingering handshake makes you wonder. If there is a slight squeeze you may get uncomfortable. If there is a tremor you may not know if to hold the hand or let it go..

So, I left the traditional pictures of the bride all radiant in joy to the other photographers. All I wanted is a few shots within a few seconds just before the groom slides the ring upon the finger of the bride.

I wanted to see if her hands show the feelings and an emotion her face may not, as it is customary to remain all radiant during the ceremony.

… At the moment leading to the best man producing the rings, the bride was all smiles but her hands were very tightly together. All anticipation for sure.

Then a slight comfort with the moment, although still tense.

And suddenly, all came together. It was the moment of truth as the groom held her ring between his index and thumb. At this second, the bride’s left hand ascended with grace as if trout to the surface of the stream.

And there is the hand that says “all is well”!

… Alea jecta est. Happy trails young couple.

February 27, 2017

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2017

PS/ Since I took these photos from 20 yards with a fixed lens, I had to crop extensively. Of course that means sacrificing the quality of the photos, but my goal was more about describing the psychology of the moment and not the technical quality of the product.

Copying Nature According to Maillol

During a visit to Museé Maillol on rue de Grenelle in Paris, I took note of a statement the artist had made about his understanding of art. It read:

                                   “Art does not lie in the copying of nature”

I had not thought about that quote until recently I was at a museum of modern arts in Vienna and was attracted to an iron/bronze statue. It was a statue of a woman, seen under the modernist art. And since my favorite statue by Aristide Maillol is Air displayed on the grounds of the Kröller-Müller Museum, his statement about copying nature came back to mind.

Indeed, the grace of the Maillol statue compared to the harshness and “unnatural” dimensions of the one in the Vienna museum made me think about the role of a street photographer focusing on people as primary subjects.

This question is of special relevance to a photographer like me who does not use digital media hence does not manipulate the original picture. I say “picture” not “photo” because for me a photograph is still synonymous with the chemical reaction light has with silver halide crystals on photographic film.

So, if I take a photo of a woman, am I copying nature? Should I transform the appearance of the woman, as the artist did for the statue in Vienna to make it real art?

Or is “nature” different from “natural”? Perhaps it is the interaction of forms, colors, attitudes and expectations that define nature for Maillol. Not just the appearance. After all, is a landscape photographer duplicating nature of going beyond the facsimili process?

I will start me exploration about this with a photo I took of graffiti:

Indeed “So What?” Can it be that copying nature has enough artfulness to be called art?

Let me make clear: my understanding of “copying nature” during street photography is by making sure that the scene is unaffected by my presence. As such, I never take pictures of people as in the photo below!

So, how many human forms are in the next photo I took during a parade? The look of the man with the sword makes the take, but the pensive face of the woman takes us beyond the historic uniforms and parade. What is she thinking? The role of women in the uniformed services? Her grandparents?

I like capturing body language without relying on the face to tell me what people think. Consider this photo I took at a museum. The faces of the two women on the painting have now new bodies, all dressed up in winter clothing. The Gauginesque moment cuts now through continents and time. Yet, I just copied what the moment offered.

This man in a Christmas Market is anachronistic. His clothing and his beard put us outside the electric cars and smart phones that surrounded him. It is him and the Christmas tree. He is an island; he is deep in thought. Yet, he is unchanged by my 1950s Leica lens or 100 ASA Croatian B&W film. He is who he is.

Finally, I think one difference between a sculptor and a photographer is that the latter can wait for a natural composition to organize itself. A sculptor has one subject (most of the time) and has to let it be amenable enough to find a niche in an environment where it belongs, post becoming a statue. A photographer is the voyeur who, through experience, can anticipate a composition, waits till the pieces come together and clicks.

Most importantly, the scene, subject and composition captured by the photographer disappear the moment he clicks. It is a whole new world a split second later.

A statue remains unchanged for, almost, forever.

Perhaps in that way the art of a sculptor is different from copying nature. It remains unchanged.

February 11, 2017

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2017