The frames chico, they never lie

To talk about the artists behind the lense is akin to talking about the goddess in Christianity (ever present, but persistently erased from Christian theology to maintain the delusional monolith of an omnipotent, omnipresent ‘man’ god), like the unpaid labour of women (ridiculed, denigrated and mocked but is ever present and contributes about a trillion dollars to the world economy), like how kid’s mental health is to desi parents (denied, trampled upon and swept under the rug, yet making miraculous appearance to justify what their son did to other women) – the common denominator being it’s unacknowledged presence that often is being overlooked by the ‘less seasoned’ eyes – that of a casual onlooker to whom every picture has ceased to serve as a portal to a parallel universe, the pillar upon which every good photo stands. If I knew how to perfectly string together the words to explain what I am about to, the subject will no longer be this special – this intriguing, mysterious, convoluted and incomprehensible. If there is something I unflinchingly believe in, it is the magic of frames – the stardust which makes up every pixel of a photo you took – the one that demands the artistic vision and creative drive of the one behind the picture – beauty truly lies in the eyes of the beholder.

Often glossed over, those behind the frames deserves a letter of appreciation, because they’re tired from attempting to freeze moments, all the while helplessly watching time slip away like grains of sand from an open palm. While I am yet to figure out why a sudden wave of inexplicable ecstasy invades me everytime I talk about photography, I think I need to put this out here

– as someone whose love language is capturing people and places I love, my gallery is a compilation of a million reasons as to why life is worth living. Some blurry, some poignantly artistic and some downright questionable pictures - nevertheless each frame knowing the myriad emotions and each of them living a life of it’s own, telling tale of it’s own, unmarred by the projection of onlookers. The frames chico, they never lie.