I haven’t been to this village fair for some years as I hardly shot in the place where I live any more. I thought that photographs like this, depicting local customs et al. belong to some previous photographic life of mine. But you are never really through with a place, especially if you live in it. Having nothing better to do, that Monday morning after the Greek Orthodox Easter, I remembered that a small religious procession of an icon that takes place every year the same day, and off I went. I didn't shoot much but this picture, despite all its little flaws, made my outing worthwhile.
Our photo of the month as voted by BurnMyEye members is by Dimitirs Makrygiannakis.
This is how Dimitris recalls the taking of this photograph.
" I found this old man on the major touristic spot of Prague, Charle's bridge in June 2015. Found this photo looking in my archives recently, almost had forgotten it existed. His face, I don't remember any more. But those eyes stroke me from the very beginning I saw him. After taking the photo and continuing my photo walk, I could not but keep thinking of the greek philosopher Diogenes. A modern Diogenes? A story far more tragic? Every time I look at those eyes, they tell me another story."
This stunner by Barry Talis is our collective's Photo of the Month as voted by all Burn My Eye members.
I found this scene early on a Saturday morning in the Gothic Quarter of Barcelona, while on my way to meet the participants of one of my workshops. A young man sitting, crying silently, with a red rose by his side.
There was a story in there, one that touched on the most universal themes of love and fate. And while much has been said on these themes, very few have been able to meditate and write about them like poet Rainer Maria Rilke:
"..For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror, which we are still just able to endure, and we admire it so because it serenely disdains to annihilate us.
Every angel is terrifying.
..Shouldn't this most ancient of sufferings finally grow more fruitful for us? Isn't it time that we lovingly freed ourselves from the beloved and, quivering, endured: as the arrow endures the bowstring's tension, so that gathered in the snap of release it can be more than itself.
For there is no place where we can remain. ..."
Fragment from 'The Duino Elegies', by Rainer Maria Rilke, 1923.