I Am Not Meant For This World Part II

I was talking about looking at old photographs before I went off on a tangent of sorts. Ooopsies, I’m trying to limit those. The key word there is ‘trying’ not ‘succeeding’. Take pity on this old soul. pu-leeese! Now that I have got that out of my system, let me continue.

Old photographs of people living over a hundred years ago. Staring directly at me. These photos were taken in a moment of the persons life. I wonder if they ever got to see the photograph of themself. Did they even imagine that I would be looking at it over a hundred years later? The whole idea of them sitting patiently during the process would have been completely different today, I would think. Maybe longer, I suppose. I wonder what kind of banter that would have been going on between photographer and the subject.

There was a series of photos that I came across of two people laughing after a serious posed shot. It was the most natural photo that I have ever come across. It was beautiful. Most of the photos back then are of people showing no emotion. But to see these two people laughing is priceless. Then, after their photo was taken, they most likely went about their day never to revisit the moment again. I am assuming here.

There are so many photographs to flip through and I haven’t even scratched the surface. The following portraits that stand out to me based on the subject matter and compositions that have particular interest.

Usually photos from 100 years ago show stoic faces, but not the two above. I can hear the woman and her child laughing while the father causes mischief. The man with his ventriloquist doll collection (I’m only guessing here) is so freakish and disturbing. What if they aren’t actually puppets, but deformed humans? Having these photos side by side and looking from one to the other is quite captivating and surreal at the same time.

Obviously a young woman from a wealthy home dressed to the nines. I could be wrong, as I could find no history to this photo. What I’m interested in is why was she in this dress for the photo? Was there a ceremony of some sort or was this her everyday garments that she wore? What conversations were taking place while she had her photo taken? Who was in the room with her and what kind of advice was she being given while the photo was being taken. Can the chair that she rests her hand on still be around somewhere today?

Two of my favorites. Pretty Nose, a Cheyenne woman, and Chief Joseph of the Nez Perce. I cannot even begin to fathom what their lives were like being attacked by the US government during their time. Family and friends killed just so that the US government could take their land. Sad isn’t it? What humans are capable of? You can see in their eyes how they are still fighting for their people inside. They never asked to be terrorized.

These last two photos shows me that resilience is innate in everyone. For some, more so than others. Photos like these, don’t lie. You can gain all the emotion and events of the time that they were taken. There is so much happening if you look directly into their eyes. They aren’t looking into the lens, rather away from it. I can only guess why. Probably a lack of trust, maybe?

Maybe I don’t feel that I am meant for this world because of my lack of trust in people. I admit I have a hard time trusting others. Whether that is based on past experiences or watching and observing others, there is no direct correlation. It’s a gut instinct. I don’t trust people in my own family to a certain extent. Maybe that is why I find looking through old photographs more exhilarating at this time in my life. Knowing that these people in the photos went through the same feelings that I am feeling now, a hundred years later. I feel a connection with them. Or rather, to them.

My best friend is my camera. I attempt to capture some kind of beauty from behind my lens. I’m not a point and shoot photographer by any means. I look, I study, I wait and when everything lines up. Click.

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Maybe, in a hundred years from now, people will see my photography and wonder about my subject matter. I wish I could be there to listen and tell them the circumstances behind each photo. It’s weird to think that my photos will be around long after I am gone. Maybe this is my way of telling future generations that I once was alive and I tired to capture moments in a world I really didn’t understand, or maybe belong in. Maybe, my camera was my way of being part of this world, or trying to be a part of it. I don’t know if I have ever succeeded in that matter. Does it matter? Of course it does, …to Me. I’ve always been the outsider, the black sheep, the weirdo standing slightly left of center. It was my comfort zone. From there I can observe this strange race of humans, see beyond them to the beauty that is earth.

Is that too goofy? Should I change the ending?? Oh, fugetaboutit!