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.   

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.