Photo Narrative - Greed

I was born into a wealthy family, and growing up, had a fairly privileged lifestyle. Around the time I entered my teenage years, things in the family business started to go downhill. My grandfather and father always held honesty to be a high virtue, and always rather than take the easy path, they made sure things were always on the level, even when the business was hemorrhaging money due to some unfortunate turn of events.

Everyone in my family, especially my mother, always said to me "money comes, money goes". As a child, I never quite understood that as I began to see my friends rise in stature in wealth. I was always troubled by the idea of our transition from wealth to, for lack of a better term, 'not-wealth'. 

Somewhere along the way, as a young adult, I finally got it. I finally understood the pointlessness of chasing after such a temporal item, and began to appreciate money for what it was. Money is important, yes, but only in that it should enable you to do the things you want to do. Travel, visit friends and family, help others, do fun stuff, etc. Now, certainly, a case can be made that all of these things fall under the purview of anyone who is engaged in the process of making money aggressively, but that is not the point I am making. There must be some degree of humility and moderation somewhere. Money must be made to be an enabler; money must not be made for the sake of making money. 

In any case, these introspections seems somewhat pertinent in light of the ongoing 'Occupy' movement, even though the photographic series below was done in 2005. The theme that remains common, I think, is that of 'greed'. Somewhere along the way, we must learn to recognise the subtle crossing over that happens, from moderation and comfort, to greed and an all-consuming obsession. Foucault believed that many of these processes evolved in a way that was beyond our control because they have internal mechanisms that blind us and provide justifications for the transition to, what is essentially, pure unadulterated greed. We must be vigilant against this, for in the end, that is we can do. 

Photo Narrative - Baba

A quick note...Some of you may be wondering why these photo narratives are posted in both the 'Images' section as well as the 'Journal' section. The reason for this is simply that the 'Journal' section entries allow me to display the series as a slideshow, which is the way they were originally meant to be viewed. 

My inspiration for venturing into this style of photography is thanks completely to Duane Michals, an iconic American photographer that almost single-handedly revived and reinvented the genre of photo narratives. For anyone interested in this style of photography, I strongly recommend Jonathan Weinberg's analysis of Michals' most famous narrative, Things are Queer. 

About this series...The central subject is the loss of my grandfather. I was in America when it happened and suffered another tragedy right around the same time in later part of 2003. At the time, I simply didn't have the emotional strength or the time to grieve for him while dealing with the other things that were happening around me, not to mention that I was physically disconnected from the rest of my family by thousands of miles. 

When I returned home for a vacation, everyone had moved on. I wanted to grieve but didn't know how, and didn't want to impose on my family either, all of whom had moved on in their own ways. So I returned to America, with a rather large piece of carry-on emotional baggage, unsure of how to proceed. As is the case with college life, the daily hustle and bustle took precedence, and any thoughts of coming to terms with this event were sidelined.

Finally, almost a year later, in 2004, I created this series to honor his memory. The series is intentionally minimalist and hazy, attempting to replicate the nature of the thought/expression/guilt associated with loss, as well as the fact that he most often comes to me in my dreams.The photograph that I used is worth mentioning in it's own right as it has a fairly unique quality; no matter where you are sitting in a given room where it hangs, it looks like 'Baba' is looking directly at you. In this sense, the point of the series is fairly simple: rather than trying to suppress the gaze of the photograph and be burdened by the loss, I simply embraced it and chose to remember the fond memories that I had of my grandfather every time I looked at it. Specifically, I chose to remind myself that my grandfather lives on in me, and that means that so long as I am alive, a part of him will always be there, looking straight at me.   

Jazz By The Wharf

I have been sitting on these pictures for months on end now. I don't really know why I didn't take the time to put them up. Well actually, maybe I do. It's been so long since I picked up my camera and went to photograph anything at all, that these pictures, made me question if I had lost the drive to do it anymore. Suffice it to say, I hope that is not the case, and now conversely believe that posting these pictures may actually spur me back into action, photography wise anyway. Regardless, that's enough soliloquy for one day. 

These pictures are from a free jazz concert that I went to see, my first weekend in London (August, 2010). The concert was at Imperial Wharf which, as the name suggests, is a now-fasionable area of the Chelsea harbor. In addition to the great atmosphere and free live music, one of my fonder memories of this event will always be the first time I drank 'Banana Bread Beer'; it was truly sublime.   

P.S: There is something in here for the 'Battlestar Galactica' fans out there. See if you can spot which picture I am talking about, before you look at the picture tittles in the 'Searching For The Max Roach Moment' gallery for the answer.