When I was very young, I used to pour over the black and white photographs my father took of people and their surroundings. There was always the element of melancholiness about them. There was the essence of the pull, of wanting to be in the scenario yet holding the awareness that this simply wasn't possible. There was the nearness and the distance about them, happening at the same time. My father has got a wonderful talent in photography. He would have his own dark room which he processed his photography, his very own photoshop, so to speak. He would spend hours in the dim red light, doing time with his passion. When something is done with the hand, some sort of spirituality from the creator is bound to transfer to the product. Like that of the katana when it is made with passion and perseverance of the sword-maker. I am not certain if ever photoshopping will ever be the same as making the photos in the physical darkroom.
