Elder + Slum, Jaipur, Rajasthan, India, April of 2015

Every once in a while a elder walks up for his portrait, and such happened with this beautiful man. We were photographing a few girls in an impoverished neighborhood of Jaipur when he stepped onto the platform for his portrait. He was quiet, and respectful. We of course made way and adjusted the equipment since he was much taller than the rest of us, thus the angle of this image.

At first the boys watching started to have a little fun with the situation, then they settled down a bit when we looked their way. This was after all an elder to them, in a society where elders mean everything. The girls were different however, and moved out of his way with respect, returning immediately for their portraits.

We were standing on an abandoned temple, yet I felt that the magic of the place was within this man. He was serene, and at peace with it all. He refrained from speaking a single word, allowed his portrait to be made and walked away most grateful through his expressions.

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Note: This image was made with a Sony RX100M2 with natural light only.

Face + Hands, Elder, Humana People to People India, Virat Nagar, Rajasthan, India, October 30, 2013

We were almost finished for the morning, the desire to return was building up on the people around me. However the young, local boy alongside me pushed to go up one more street. We did and ran into this older gentleman sitting on the corner of a wide open street.

The team walked past him and continued up the street, while I was enthralled with his features and styling. I asked my team to gain his permission, and with the help of another local man we were granted permission. He was hard of hearing, and has lost sight in one of his eyes. The people around us were most helpful, and guided him to the other corner of the street to be photographed with direct sunlight.

He was beyond great, allowed me to also photograph his hands, both with film and with a digital format. He was so patient, while those around us wondered for limitless reasons regarding our intention and purpose.

After we were finished, I had the privilege of shaking this man's hands… and in gaining his trust for the portraits made this morning. I cannot wait to see the negatives, but will settle for the digital image above as a preview.

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Halim Ina Photography

Elderly Man, Village near Gaziantep, Turkey, May 27, 2013

After the morning in the studio, transportation was provided to take a few of us to a nearby village for an afternoon of photography. On our way we meet a man standing on the side of the road and ask for directions. He happened to be from an adjacent village and offered to show us the way in exchange for a ride to his home.

As we drove he asked a few questions regarding the work and then advised that his village had plenty of wonderful people to photograph. We decided to take him up on his offer and arrived at his home. He was nice enough to walk around with us and in the beginning few people were to be seen. It was after all quite early in the afternoon.

Little by little we ran across the villagers, and made their portraits as we walked through the calm streets. As our time in the village came to an end, a young man guided us to his home and then went inside to call his grandfather. All of us were astonished when this man walked out of the dark corridor. He was elegantly dressed and had an unmistakable power to him. He sat down in the shade of his home and granted us permission to photograph him.

We used natural light to make his portraits, as with all during our time in Turkey. He sat without movement while at least three of us photographed him from various angles. First his face, then his hands were documented. After we were finished we shared our gratitude and walked back to our transportation in order to head back to the city.

Later we would have a wonderful meal in an exquisite spot at the outskirts of the city, and shared the remnants of our meal with a kitten huddled at the corner of a street while searching for a taxi.

I knew at the moment above that his portrait would touch me so later upon viewing, and this has proven to be quite true.

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Halim Ina Photography

Snapshot, Man, Gaziantep, Turkey, May 29, 2013

He walks towards our car from sitting with his friends after he had agreed to be photographed, quite curious as to the gear we were pulling out of the trunk. He might have thought of a small camera and a quick snapshot, but was more than gracious in allowing us to document him with the medium format camera mounted on a considerable tripod.

We were driving on the road perpendicular to this small path when we noticed his features from the car. We slowed down a bit and my dear friend Ali agreed to step out and have a short conversation with the three men. To our delight this older man agreed to our presence and even allowed us to photograph the others from his family.

With his permission we moved his chair into the sunlight and began with a formal portrait of his face, then moved onto making images of his incredibly beautiful hands. He was surprised at my attraction to his hands, but allowed it nonetheless after seeing a few examples of such in my photographic album.

After seeing our work a few of the boys wanted their portraits made and we did so in a candid manner with the handheld camera. A roll or so were also exposed on film of this man's son when my eyes noticed the women sitting in the distance watching. With a whisper I communicated to Ali my desire to include the women and in the same whisper he advised me that this would be near to impossible.

I respected Ali's advice of course, wanting to do anything but to get him into trouble. However the urge to do so overtook me and without the use of a common language my thoughts were communicated to the men in charge with gestures, and honest pleas with a smile.

To my pleasant surprise they agreed kindly and allowed me to make portraits of two of the young women. To my greater surprise the two young women walked over in front of so many men to have their portraits made without a single sign of hesitation. They were strong and confident, albeit quite reserved with their words. They stood for their portraits as strong as any of the women in my portfolio and, considering the circumstances around them, without equal.

I look forward to this man's portrait, to the images of his hands and to the results of the young women's portraits in the coming days as the negatives are reviewed.

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Halim Ina Photography

Man, Mosque, Muş, Turkey, May 22, 2013

In this conservative part of Turkey I would have thought entering a mosque with a camera would be looked down upon. It turned out on several occasions that all were open to the idea and allowed themselves to be photographed while in the process of their readings. For the image above the camera was placed onto the ground for the long exposure.

One never knows the reactions of people to the work, and I was pleasantly surprised to have been allowed to document this man. Both film and digital media were used, and he went on with his reading without pause. In the less conservative regions to the west I was advised to refrain from doing so, and this gave me further appreciation for my time in the east. People are at times quick to categorize a region, and the image above has taught me much about this.

One never knows unless they ask it seems. This was my first image in Turkey, and happened to be in the part of the country that made my photography feel most at home. People were most receptive to the work, and the camera in itself was a source of fascination. Of course the image is commonplace all over Turkey, but the presence of an outsider in this part of Turkey was less so. As a result the emotions garnered were true and genuine, and the relationships formed most beautiful.

This I have learned is the reward of following the path less travelled.

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Halim Ina Photography

Campesino + Los Manos, Centro Habana, Cuba, Julio de 2012

As we were walking back home I noticed out of the corner of my eyes this gentle man sitting on a ledge. He nodded my way and shared his smile, thus making him irresistible to photograph. We walked over and had an extensive conversation, finding out that he just happened to be in the city for a few days and was visiting his family from the countryside.

He was well into his seventies yet moved like a young man. His manner of speech was filled with exuberance and his muscle tone made me feel quite happy that a shirt was covering my skin. We talked about life on his farm and noted that he was a most peaceful man. While so many in the city wore faces of sadness, understandably so, joy oozed out with this man's words.

We asked to make his portrait and he was beyond willing. He asked me my thoughts about position, and I advised him that we'd make one without the hands and one with the hands. Looking back now I am so glad that we decided to include the hands, a rarity for me.

He was sitting on a ledge at a busy crossroad. People walked past us in every direction and looked once in a while at the tourist talking with the Cuban. We used the light bouncing off of the building on the opposite side of the street, and exposed these images onto higher speed film than usual to increase the depth of field while capturing the stillness of the moment.

My bags were placed directly in front of him and underneath me in order to minimize the reflected light from beneath us. In this way we would maintain shadows from under his features and maximize the highlights from above.

He was a natural, moved his hands between exposures until the roll was finished. We exposed two rolls of film and then continued with the conversation. We bid each other farewell and continued on our way home.

I will of course visit his family's home to drop off the pictures this summer, and hope to drive out to his farm in the future to continue this collaboration. These are the moments for which my camera exists.

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Note: This image was made with a Hasselblad V System.

Elder in Color, On the Street, La Habana, Cuba, July of 2008

He sat for his portrait without a word, following his friends. They were gathered in their usual spot on one of the busiest streets in the city. Each had their own story and had seen more than their share of hardship, had lived through the revolution and were a testament to human endurance. They caught my attention from across the street when one of them offered to have their portraits made by me, in exchange for a fee of course.

To do so one time on the island is to place myself in a peculiar situation, and so the offer was kindly rejected. For some reason he offered once again without the financial request and the offer was gladly accepted. They might have seen me before on the street and perhaps had a sense of curiosity. I certainly was curious in return. We talked for a few minutes and set up for the photography. Many people from across the street showed their disapproval, since they might have seen this as a tourist making pictures of the helpless once again for the sake of profit.

These men treated me with respect and surely had mine in return. We made photographs using the tripod and film, then switched to a hand held camera for spontaneous captures. The background was the beautiful floor beneath them, while gorgeous light struck their faces from the street behind me. The man in the portrait above had a difficult time raising his head, and was kind enough to do so in this instance. Unlike the children in my work, the men in this group sat very still and were quite easy to photograph.

After perhaps thirty or so minutes we packed up our gear and bid these men farewell. We made note of their locations and promised to return the following year with their portraits. When we did return on our next visit we learned that one of the men had since passed away. It so happened that this was the man who had approached us in the first place, and who had made these images possible.

I will always be thankful for his curiosity and for the opportunity to have met him, to have made his portrait. Being in a position to meet such a variety of people is a true fortune, one that inspires me to continue upon this path.

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Halim Ina Photography

Michel, Metalsmith, Family, Bekaa Valley, Zahle, Lebanon

He has since passed on, but this portrait is etched into my mind. In the early years of my work, my Mother's hometown was the starting point. Visiting the family seemed like a good excuse to take along a camera and head into the streets while they were either working or sleeping.

Language was never a barrier, and people knew my family well. Safety was nothing to be concerned with, and walking in the streets was as natural as I had remembered from childhood. Everywhere I turned someone greeted me with a smile, acknowledged our common thread as Lebanese. Most were curious and conversations would begin very easily.

In this instance this man was working in his shop as a metalsmith. I asked him for his portrait and he offered his time happily. We talked for a few minutes then set up the camera to make the image above. In the middle of setting up he asked about my connection to Zahle. I responded with my Mother's maiden name and, as it turned out, he happened to be related to my Mother as a close cousin. He asked about my family, and then asked if perhaps he should change to more proper clothing for his portrait. I assured him that my Mother would love him as he was, and respect him even more so for allowing her son to make his portrait without doing so.

We worked for a little bit, talked more so and promised to see each other the following year. I returned home to tell my family that I had photographed Michel, and noted the smiles on their faces. They were used to me photographing migrant workers, unknown faces, and were in disbelief that my work now included our family. My Mother however knew my work and was sincerely pleased that I had finally included my own family alongside the endless stream of strangers.

I visited Michel every time we returned to Lebanon over the years, sometimes just passing by his shop and seeing him hard at work. Then one year I heard the news of his passing, that a car had struck him while walking down the narrow street of his shop. I was upset because I have seen firsthand how careless drivers can be on these streets, and knew that he had so much more to give. I admired then and admire even more so now his work ethic, how he cared about his job whether he was working for a prominent farmer or a migrant worker, taking care of their respective tools.

One year I returned with his framed portrait to give to his wife. My Mother gave me directions to his home and I decided to go alone. I knocked on the door and a young African answered the door. After exchanging greetings I asked for Michel's wife. She returned a minute or so later and looked at me in a curious manner. I took the framed photograph and placed it in her hands, the entire time looking at both of their faces. This was the first time that they had seen the image and were so surprised that Michel had  been photographed.

The look on their faces was sufficient in itself, and we separated without saying much more. This experience showed me that people do cherish the visual record, and even more so the fact that one took the time to return their loved ones to them. This I do with honor, and pleasure.

Halim Ina Photography

Mursi Man, Earrings, Lower Omo Valley, Ethiopia, March, 2010

He walks over from under a tree for his portrait, along with the rest of the men. The sun is behind me to the left, we have two hours of light left before we need to start back on the road to the motel. The trouble with the truck forces us to leave the engine running, the noise becoming a part of the background by now.

One by one, the men take their turns. Some of them smile, some of them refrain from doing so. A few bring their rifles, a few others brandish their swords. They have seen me before in the form of other photographers and appear quite comfortable.

During my day with this Mursi Community, tourists come and go. They get out of their air-conditioned vehicles for the standard dozen or so photographs, haggling over the price a few portraits that in the end are less than the bottle of water in their other hand. The lack of courtesy shown surprises me very little for the most part, for these tourists barely look my way as well. They remind me of others from their Society that walk past me in the airports, in the streets, in the coffee shops; barely lifting their heads from the bright screens to notice my presence then either.

One man approaches me however. He is this group's tour guide. He has seen enough and walks away for a break from the excess. He notices me and starts a conversation. He is quite friendly, telling me about his work as a tour guide and the number of visits to Ethiopia before this present one.

He then asks me about my ethnicity, about my history. His face turns to curiosity when he learns of my Lebanese descent and time spent in Lebanon during the Civil War. He inquires as to the exact location of my family. When he learns the answer, he smiles slightly and tells me that he has been to that city.

Knowing his background as an Israeli, my guess is that his time in Lebanon was under the occupation of my country by his nation. He confirms this and tells me of his time in the armed forces during the Egyptian conflict as well. His face is transformed at this time, he tells me of one difference between the two conflicts: during the Egyptian affair, if a missile missed its target it might have struck the natural landscape behind that target... but during the invasion of Lebanon, if a missile missed its primary target it might have struck the urban landscape behind that target, quite possibly a civilian series of casualties.

At that moment, he says something completely unexpected, that he has never had respect for his government's decision to invade Lebanon and to engage forces within the population in such a manner. He extends his hand as a sign and we shake hands in the middle of a foreign nation. Here is a man that might have pointed a rifle at my family in Lebanon, telling me of his sorrow for the act, and then sharing his humanity with me years after the incident.

All the while the women from this village are walking around and trying to sell their crafts to the people under his guidance, pieces ranging from woven baskets to clay lip plates. We talk for a few minutes more until his tourists are finished with their snapshots. We bid each other farewell and he returns to a home on the other side of a border from my family.

It is on this day that the portrait above is made, hours after the conversation with the former Israeli soldier.

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Mursi Man, Earrings, Lower Omo Valley, Ethiopia, March, 2010

This portrait is the morning after the portrait below, in the middle of Mago National Park.

The night before we sleep near a stream and under a large tree. For our dinner, we have corn from the previous day and some canned tuna. While we sleep, a guard from the park services department watches out for us along with some men from his tribe, the very tribe we intend to photograph the next morning.

The reason for the decision to camp is based on the amount of gasoline remaining for the trip. Sleeping near the tribe allows us to eliminate the arduous trek over the mountain range and also lessens the wear and tear on the truck, as well as the driver.

Clouds, for some reason in the land of sunshine, decide to appear on the horizon just as the sun is shining most beautifully this entire week. Sleep is hard to find all night because of this. Every once in a while, I unzip the small tent and look up at the skies only to see stars. Then I go back to sleep only to repeat this a few times during the night.

In the morning, before the sun rises, I check on the sky one more time, seeing only stars. Excitement builds and we decide to move quickly. We pack all of our gear, place it on top of the truck and head to the village only a minute or so away.

As written in previous posts, a tribe that is supposed to be most difficult is in actuality more than gentle. We begin with the girls, then the women and then the older men. During this morning's session, a large cloud appears out of nowhere unexpectedly and seems to be moving in the same direction and with the same speed as the sun.

With the previous five days in mind, I almost decide to put everything away and give up. The translator tells me to be patient, tells me that the sun will reappear in less than one hour. In the end, he is right. The sun does reappear and even though it is higher and stronger than before, the people are able to stand up and collaborate beautifully.

We finish on a high note and move on to the next tribe, until our return next year hopefully.

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Mursi Man, AK-47, Mago National Park, Lower Omo Valley, Ethiopia, March, 2010

So many men walking around with guns. Everywhere we visit, such is the scene. Even more surreal is their reaction to my direction. This man for instance poses as directed: turn to the left, turn to the right, point the gun at the camera. He responds calmly, like a man being photographed with his prized possession, all the while with his finger behind the trigger. It is such moments that give my connection to strangers even more significance. 

Over and over again, people that have never met me show me a respect and dignity perhaps only earned over a lifetime between the closest of friends. This confluence never ceases to surprise me. One such convergence happens tonight, when a sweet soul from the West Coast named Jessica decides to send a note. After seeing an image from Ethiopia, she shares her thoughts with me as naturally as she might with a dear friend. She reaffirms my trust in the everday and in the power of the image: 'It seems that the people closest to you know you the least until they look and try to understand what it is you love to do.' 

This happens on location in Ethiopia and happens between two people meeting through the photographic medium. By seeing the portraits, Jessica sees the subjects as well as the photographer. By reading their stories, she remembers her past. In her words: 'I visited Togo, Africa for two weeks around a year ago to help build a school in a small village and since then my idea of beauty has extended past American ideals. In addition to the way that you evoke emotion throughout your portfolio, a large part of why I am so inspired by your work is because I have heard the stories of people from many places and you capture their stories in your art.' When requesting her permission to include the above words, Jessica responds with trust, with kindness. 

The people in my images will one day be proud to know her, to have their portraits next to one of her in my portfolio. As for the man above, it seems that the expense of the bullets keeps him and his friends from using the gun very much. This helps put me at ease as he points the gun at the camera. The Mursi Community, as noted in an earlier post, shows us only respect and kindness, coupled with a sense of humor as seen above in the man's smile.

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Mursi Man, Mago National Park, Lower Omo Valley, Ethiopia, March, 2010

He sits under the tree, silent the entire time, while others negotiate on his behalf. The confidence this man displays is without parallel in my experience. He and his tribe are the reason men are photographed more so on this trip. He belongs to the Mursi Community, lives in the Mago National Park of Ethiopia's Lower Omo Valley. As noted in a previous post, his community's population is estimated at 10,000. They are pastoralists in nature but prefer a sedentary life. 

Most from this community are illiterate and speak the language of their tribe. While some have converted to Christianity, most practice Animism, a belief that spirits exist in animals, plants and inanimate objects. At an early age, the girls from this tribe begin the process of wearing lip plates, as well as plates in the ears. Contrary to some myths, the reason for such is esthetic, for the purposes of beauty and to attract a future husband. At the same time as the lip expansion, the lower front teeth are removed, thus enhancing the beauty sought after by the women in this community. 

While others step forth quickly to have their portraits made in exchange for a humble living, this man prefers to watch. Only when called on by me several times does he, with a smile, come forth for his portrait. He has seen hundreds of tourists and has seen this before, but humors me with his time. Direction he does without, preferring to change poses every other negative or so. His expressions are those of an old friend, one that knows me and has met me before. My hope is that we meet again, very soon.

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Man, Service Station, North Road, Gambia, Summer, 2006

Earlier in this blog is a portrait of his friend, another man from Mauritania. Rather than in his land, this portrait is made on the side of a road in Gambia. On our second day in this country, we stop for gasoline and see him sitting along with his friend, an older man. We are heading West in the direction of the capital Banjul for a few days of photography. 

They politely ask for our help and, seeing an opportunity, we agree to do so in exchange for their portraits. They agree nicely and walk over to the western wall of the service station. It's early in the morning and the sun is to their backs, behind the building. They sit down on a raised cement step, with a white wall as a backdrop. 

He comes from a land where there are deep divisions, between black and white, between Arab and African. In his country, almost 20% live as slaves, true slaves with masters. He is in Gambia searching for work, looking for a way to support his family.

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Once a Stranger, a Brother Now, Studio, States, January 10, 2010

He comes along with Courtney the first time to my studio, makes himself almost invisible for the sake of the work. When asked to be photographed, it is with the joy of a child that he accepts.

We make his portrait. The sense of respect that he shows my work is immense, for he notes it in his every word. To join his brothers and sisters from around the world gives him an tremendous sense of pride, of happiness.

This is a man who has much to share with us; the scars on his body are reminders of such.

He visits my studio on two occasions, the latter of which results in the image above. This time around, he is less reserved, less shy. He comes prepared with a change of clothing, he has put some pieces together for the session. He reminds me of the children from my work overseas, taking little for granted.

He teaches me that such humility can be found on both sides of the ocean, in every land.

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Banjara Girl & Pitcher, Alwar District, Rajasthan, India, November 10, 2009

She sits down low, next to an open fire pit.

At first, she is photographed in the clothes she is wearing. As we make more photographs, she and the others change into their traditional blouses and dresses. All the girls at this home photograph easily, with her leading the way. Once one shows the others how, the photography flows.

She is a natural.

After a bit, the man of the house signals us to stop, a common practice with this community. Just as the excitement builds, or perhaps because of such, our work comes to an end. Time and time again, it seems to me that when girls perceive an opportunity, men decide to remove it from their view.

This perhaps is the single most frustrating part of my work since it deals almost exclusively with girls and women. The opposition of men and boys is unrelenting, in every single street, neighborhood or town. They always seem to be there, always pretend to be concerned, always do so without gaining an informed perspective, always.

Admittedly, the last sentence above is made without having a complete, informed perspective myself. I am a stranger to them, a man with expensive equipment, walking around with guides, making pictures of their children, more specifically their girls. For me to truly understand, much would need to change in my life, much would have needed to change before my birth.

I make these statements based on certain limitations, certain preconditions.

Can it be otherwise?

Perhaps in the future, my perceptions will change and a fuller understanding of this friction will unveil itself. Until then, my patience will be tested every single time a man comes into a scene and voices his 'concern' regarding the work, even when that man is from another town and is a stranger himself to the girls in front of me.

Fisherman, Malecon, Havana, Cuba, 2008

So here I am, on the Malecon walking around like yet another tourist with a camera.

The clouds have rolled in, the winds have picked up. It's the end of the day, without my friend guiding me since one week ago, having decided mutually to end our working relationship of four or so years.

So here I am without a translator walking around with a camera. The idea is to gain eye contact with a subject and then gauge their interest. Just then a man fishing on a wall gives me a smile. I decide to sit down next to him and begin a conversation. He has caught nothing today and has decided to head back home early, the waves are a bit harsh.

I ask him for his portrait and he allows me. His fishing equipment is in his hands, as can be seen in the portrait. Today he lacks anything to place on the hook. We talk for about twenty minutes and then go our separate ways. This is a most gentle and serene man.