You're Killin' Me
He didn't want his picture taken yesterday. This morning I saw him again. This time with his machete. Again he said no. I agreed to not photograph him despite him being great. Chalk up another missed portrait opportunity. Or so I thought.
About a half an hour later the light was just glinting across his face and I had to do it. I came to him again describing the light that was hitting his face. I knew he didn't want me to take his picture but I did it anyway. I feigned being stabbed in the heart at the prospect of not being able to shoot him. While one hand pretended to stab myself, the other snapped the photo. It was part performance, part photography. Like always really.
He knew damn well what I was doing and after all that actually didn't seem to mind me taking his picture. I shot a few more with a little more attentiveness but this one, the first one, is the best. I like the look on his face. It's somewhere between amusement and bewilderment at my theatrics.
It was all done with a smile. His and mine.
Take pictures.
About a half an hour later the light was just glinting across his face and I had to do it. I came to him again describing the light that was hitting his face. I knew he didn't want me to take his picture but I did it anyway. I feigned being stabbed in the heart at the prospect of not being able to shoot him. While one hand pretended to stab myself, the other snapped the photo. It was part performance, part photography. Like always really.
He knew damn well what I was doing and after all that actually didn't seem to mind me taking his picture. I shot a few more with a little more attentiveness but this one, the first one, is the best. I like the look on his face. It's somewhere between amusement and bewilderment at my theatrics.
It was all done with a smile. His and mine.
Take pictures.
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