by M. Mileva
I hate picture. Pictures help. I love pictures. Pictures hurt.
I need pictures. Or I don’t?
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As an image maker, I’m supposed to know what I’m doing as much as what my work is for, what represents, what is the meaning behind, how this react on the audience, etc., etc. Actually, I have times when I simply ask myself – Why I’m doing it?!
Pictures are great. Seriously, they rock. Oh, really?! Well, yes, even if they represent something you don’t want to speak about. Here’s the thing – I love taking pictures, I feel my soul exploding, like spreading all over the world and beyond. And I’m really glad I have my thing, because if you don’t live for something, what are you doing? Anyway, here’s the other thing – pictures remind. They remind me of my past, of people, of places, they remind me what I’m, who I’m and what my scars are. I know, because I took these photos. I know, because I want to know, because I’m so bloody scared of forgetting and losing things. So scared that sometimes even obsess people, thinking they’re supposed to stay with me forever. However, I don’t want to end with “that’s who I’m, take it or leave it”, no. I just want to find out, why something, which could hurts me unbelievable much, gives me so much power and make my soul flies? Well, maybe that’s the way things should be – Yin and Yang, right?