Clouds in my photo
“Think of and look at your work as though it were done by your enemy. If you look at it to admire it, you are lost.”—Samuel Butler
Working abroad is not as fascinating as I once thought. Taking care of sick people is part of my daily routine. But it is a battle for me to wake up in the morning, do the laundry on my days off, and cook my own food. My only escape from all this is photography. Now it seems as if my life revolves around it. It is my candy when I am sad.
I am not a pro. I consider myself a hobbyist.
My first project was to compile a photo diary. I took a picture that would characterize my day and included it there. But since my special one and I started living separate lives, my pictures reflected a broken heart. The photos showed how I felt, how I cried, how broken I was. My smile might hide the pain from the crowd, but my photos showed what I really felt inside.
But my “Boyfy” (that’s what I call my 500D) has turned out to be my best partner. It filled the emptiness somehow.
I was moving away from sadness. But since I work in a place where going out alone with a man can be awkward, it took a while before I gave myself a chance to meet new friends, especially men.
That was until I started a conversation with him. I am too shy to start conversations, but at that time I had some questions about the place in the Philippines where he comes from. So I asked him, completely aware and not bothered by the fact that he belonged to someone.
That’s how we got to know each other well. He likes blue, I like green. He loves pasta, I like it a bit. He is a good dancer, I am not. We are opposites in many ways, but one thing we share is the love of photography.
He is not my kind of guy. But late night conversations and exchanging messages with him became hobbies as well. We would share thoughts on Photography 101 (kuno). He told me he loved my work. I guess he is my first and my greatest fan, as well as my critic.
We are good friends, I believe. He fills a void in my life. We get to see each other before and after our shifts—just a casual hi and hello thing. But for me time spent with him is never wasted even if for him it is just a diversion maybe.
We have talked about our past, our doubts and bitter memories, our cherished moments with family, friends and loved ones—really “girl talk,” except that he is a boy. We have shared stories about nasty and crazy things we did in our previous relationships, like me telling him when my first kiss was.
He has told me about some painful experiences he has had, like the time he was forced to walk home because he had run out of money or the time when his father left them for another family. He said he has to help his mother send his siblings to college. But after we share our sad stories, we would tease each other or tell jokes so that we could share a laugh.
Before long he was telling me about the love of his life, about plans undone and shattered dreams and his regrets.
Some of his friends would just shut up when I mention her name. One of them confided to me that the girl told him she needed some space (daw) during their special day and that was the reason they broke up.
This friend admires him for taking the breakup in stride. But though I haven’t seen him cry, I can feel that he was hurt by the breakup and that he is still hurting.
My photos always express how I feel. For a time, they looked happy and inspired. I was back on track; I could take shots again without having to hide any disappointment. He had become my inspiration, the wonderful cloud in the pale blue sky.
Sometimes we would go out to take photographs. We would exchange ideas about photography. He was brutally honest about the pictures I take, telling me if one was too cold or too dark. I have found a friend.
It has been only a few months since we met, and I must say we still don’t know each other very well. I don’t even know what his favorite song is. The only thing I know is what makes him laugh, what makes him cry, and what makes him complete: Cathy. He doesn’t hide it. He made it clear right from the very beginning, and I was not upset by that fact.
But love is not like photography. An artist pre-visualizes what he wants in his art. He sees what is beautiful. He can set up his camera to capture the view he wants. He chooses the angle for his shot and waits for the right time to click the shutter.
No, love is not like photography. If we don’t perceive beauty, we look through the viewfinder and miss the scenery.
Falling in love is not anticipating a beautiful outcome. I am like an underexposed shot. I am invisible.
I should have known it. I should have seen it. I am not ready, but I am falling in love. And I feel lost.
I don’t know how to pre-visualize myself. I don’t see any beauty. I can’t set my heart on looking through the camera. I don’t know the right angle and the right time to click the shutter. I guess I was blinded when the scene came into view. My determination to conceal my emotion was overwhelmed by his kindness. It was too fast but it was ecstasy. Until reality brought me back to sanity. What we had was merely an undefined understanding.
The friendship I value is tainted. I can no longer speak to him the way I used to. He has reason to avoid me. I know why he decided to pull back. I was too naïve to admit that his devotion to the love of his life was pure and firm.
He will be back next month. He said that after his vacation he would know whether walking away would be easier than holding on. I am a wreck. I do not know if I will be able to enjoy taking photographs again.
It is my brother who has Boyfy now. But my Forest (7D) will arrive soon. I am hoping for brighter days. It has been said that some people are like clouds; the day becomes brighter when they disappear. I suppose he will be the clouds in my photo.
Whatever his decision may be, I will thank him for two things: First, he has made me feel like I am a true artist. Second, he has taught me that behind every great work of art is inspiration—and sometimes frustration.
Lorinel Campos Gaborno, 26, works as a nurse in Kuwait.
