There are places in this world that defy description simply because there is no other place on earth quite like them. Antarctica. Egypt. Namibia. And Iceland. Volcanic landscapes. Calving glaciers. Thermal pools. Pounding waterfalls. And blondes. Even the Icelandic ponies have blonde hair and blue eyes.
In the Damara language, “Namib” means “large open, barren spaces” and they’re not kidding. It’s home to possibly the world’s highest sand dune, beetles that stand on their head to collect dew for their survival, weaver birds that build collective nests that are the size of Volkswagen Beetles, sunsets like no other place on earth, rock circles visible only from the sky that no two people explain the same, the Skeleton Coast that’s lined with wrecked ships, and wild horses that wander the vast desert in search of water. And the Himbas still practice their traditional ways including wearing their traditional garb, which wouldn’t fly in Poughkeepsie.
Your eyes may be the window to your soul but your hands are the narrative of your life. They’re like tree rings or snowflakes or fingerprints for no two are alike. Hands are the extension of our total being. A porcelain painter must steady her hand enough for delicate brushstrokes. The prizefighter wraps and tapes his for his title bout. A dancer’s hands convey emotion. A newborn placed in his father’s hands for the first time must feel his strength yet love.
Calluses and manicures, divots and dings, angel softness and bloodied roughness speak volumes. Each mark and scar serves as a personal diary.
Brides. Probably the most photographed subject of all time. How do you make it interesting? Find the backstory and shoot it.
Never mind all the perfectly posed and lit wedding pics, find what’s going on behind the scenes. How did she decide to have herself shot from above while lying on a stone bench? And what will her mother think? The bride racing up the steps in Sevastopol. Is the guy who’s urging her on the wedding planner? A former lover trying to change her mind? The bride passing the glass doorway in Sorrento with the desperate look on her face, what is she thinking? The bride grabbing her groom’s butt. Did the photographer just ask for more animation? The bride with the purple bouquet … can’t imagine who’s going to dominate THAT relationship.