Fukuoka San

I haven't had a good relationship with photography for several months. It is a period that almost nauseated me, it is not a question of "photographic inspiration". It is probably the fault of the photographic pollution of social media and photo groups where it is always worth spending a few minutes, to have evidence of the cause of this disorder. Discussions on the latest technologies, methods of correction of portraits with separation of frequencies, women (and always only women) half-naked with porcelain skin, surreal HDR, post-push production, tricks to get more likes, comments from "scientists", insults ... a true bazaar. The result of these few minutes spent is the thought "ok, I have enough".

 

I am astonished to see photos taken in the mid-1900s in black and white ... I love reading books and articles that talk about photo journalism, looking for real photos of a past period that I didn't experience ... no, the current photographic world is not for me.

 

However, there are situations in which the real passion for photography starts in a fraction of a second. This spark is for me called reportage, and it is that occasion when I can tell a story. Or at least I try, I try to share an interesting story, at least for me.

 

I've always loved photographing people, not because they are photogenic or not, but because they definitely have something to tell. I like to talk to people before the photos, I like to establish a small bond to make them feel at ease so that they show themselves for what they are. If I had to choose between photographing a world-famous supermodel or an elder person, my choice would surely fall on the latter. They are above all those that intrigue me. Also, most likely, seniors are pleased to have someone to talk to for a few minutes.

 

I accidentally met an elderly gentleman who has an optic where he makes crafted frames for eyeglasses. He represents the fourth generation of this family activity. One evening, although he had already closed up shop, I asked him when I could have gone through to have my new eyeglasses shaped, given that they had caused me an annoying wound on my ear. Without thinking about it for a minute, he reopened the store and spent a good half hour shaping a pair of glasses not purchased by him. The result was fabulous: I have a pair of glasses whose frame follows exactly the shape of my skull. The glasses no longer slip from my nose, I have no problems, and it almost seems to me to see better. I tried to pay it, but it was categorical "No need, don't worry".

 

Craftsmen first use the heart, and then the hands. We chatted for a few minutes and asked him if he would like to have some pictures taken in his small shop, as a sign of gratitude for what he did. I told him that I would also do a craft job, taking analog photos and printing them in my darkroom. Unexpectedly. he was more than happy to accept my proposal. Appointment for the following Saturday at 16:00.

 

For me this story speaks of kindness, speaks of the artisan world that the modern consumer world does not value in favor of mass distribution, talks about my father who entered the world of work in an optical company. He speaks of the imperfections of artisanal creations, but also of those of analogical photography: without automatisms, without margins of error. Everything must be done with no hurry, with due time. Maybe the magic is all there.

 

Kodak TX400

Hasselblad 500 c/m

Zeiss 80mm f/2.8 / Zeiss 50mm f/4

Done