Going through the photo albums of my travelling years, I realise that most of my pictures revolve around still-life themes, be they landscapes, cities, edifices, or sites of historical and cultural interest. There are, of course, a few snapshots of family and friends, and, unavoidably, some of myself – those last ones, they initially monopolised my interest but have thankfully decreased to just a handful per year. To my surprise, though, there are very few portraits of other people – those unknown passersby who define the space that I traverse – as if I have been too timid to take a closer look through soul windows left ajar, afraid that I pry into stories that are not my own. And, yet, it is these faces – unequivocal expressions of the divine – that give meaning to our surroundings, for, despite its grace, Nature, even the Universe itself, conveys little without the evolution of our interpretations. It is our views, our explorations, our inevitably prejudiced perceptions that define our surroundings; it is our attention that gives worth to infinity.
So, at the dawn of a new, internal shift, I find myself increasingly engrossed in the people that surround me, observing with tenderness the individual lines of imperfection – the stamps of our humanity – while putting my faith in our ability to create reality out of possibilities. We are all similar: physical presences of spiritual fingerprints, unique, sacred, and frequently fragmented, our steps so soft they barely leave a dent. But we stubbornly walk on the perpetual path of homecoming in a quest of the narratives that unite us, until we grasp the cyclical nature of these tales and delve, once more, into the fluid consciousness from which we emerged.
Browsing through my meagre portrait collection, I handpicked forty short stories that triggered a chord. Certain recurring themes surface from this experiment: joy, unity, pride, music. Above all, though, I find myself gravitating around old, and somewhat exotic faces, perhaps in an attempt to reconnect, like those first intelligent humans, with the ancestral lines: those initial perception of the divine, the basis of our identity, the eternal wisdom that guides and protects us. Ultimately, every picture is part of the larger collage that defines me, a touch of humanity, and a different face of God.
Photo credits: © Konstantina Sakellariou (unless otherwise mentioned).
Original article found here.
