Portraits

Photo by Stephen Dupont - Portrait of a gang member in Papua New Guinea. Dupont took portrait shots of members of the 'Raskols.'

What struck me about these photographs was how Dupont focused on the humanity. For instance, look at this shot. As a photographer, my first inclination would have been to focus on the barrel of the gun. But Dupont chose to focus, in this and other portraits, on the person behind the gun. When we (I'm guilty as well) think of a group such as a violent gang, we tend to think of them collectively rather than the individuals that make up the group. A gang like the Raskols could be percieved by many as a group of faceless, dangerous thugs.

Dupont, however, chose to give a face to someone normally faceless. A worthy goal, it seems to me.


I highly recommend checking out the other photos.
http://lightbox.time.com/2012/10/22/raskols-stephen-duponts-portraits-of-papua-new-guinea-gangsters/#1

Public Thinkers

Today in my writing class, the term "public thinkers" came up.

We read an article from some Washington magazine, criticizing the New York Times magazine, it's "ideology," and the stereotypical culture of New York City in general.

Something about hearing "Manhattan" and "New York Times" made my mind jump to Time magazine and my dream job as a photojournalist, travelling the world and taking meaningful photographs, relevant to current issues. I basically spent the rest of the class daydreaming about that life. I would travel, all over. Be constantly in transit, moving, capturing, working. I would have a fancy studio somewhere in NYC to come home to in between trips.

Anyway, partway through class I realized I should focus more on the present, and I happened to catch the discussion about public thinkers.

The article we read was saying how people like the editor of the New York Times magazine had the "intellectual responsibility" to form and share opinions based on meticulous research, facts, and analysis. The argument was that many "public thinkers," as my professor called them, did none of these things. They simply spewed out whatever they felt like and fed it to the ravenous public.

That got me thinking. Why do we have these "public thinkers?"  Whether they, these political analysts, journalists, newspaper editors, commentators, are well-informed or not...has society really gotten to the point where we need people to think for us?

All of the (sometimes) well-supported opinions we are fed through the media...why are they necessary? Why can't the public be given the facts, and form opinions for ourselves? It wouldn't kill us to synthesize some information, you know.

I just found it interesting that we, as a public, are fed opinions. Maybe someday we will learn to form our own.

From the Colosseum

Sometimes, it feels like my entire life is an out-of-body experience. There are moments...a few minutes, a couple times a year maybe...when I come back into my body and realize that yes, I am me. I am Melissa. I'm living this life, not just watching from somewhere far away. I realize I am not a separate person, I am myself. 

I'm not an observer, following a young lady through the ups and downs of her life. That joy and euphoria that She felt, I felt. The absolute and perfect bliss She used to feel, I felt. That mistake She made? Yeah, that was all me. The guilt was mine, too. The boy who doesn't love Her anymore doesn't love me either.

I have to make the decisions. I can't just sit back and wait for Her to choose a major, or decide to go out and do something with her life.The false sense of apathy I sometimes feel as a supposed observer isn't going to cut it.

I realize I am not a spectator, cheering on the Gladiator sparring with the lion. I am the Gladiator, and I am a few bad calls away from getting eaten.  

Because this is easier than a persuasive letter....

I think I might be a hopeless romantic. I spend my days dreaming of something better that has yet to come. I struggle not having a man to call mine...or even any realistic prospects. I live my life planning out my future with the man of my dreams, whoever he is at the time. At the moment, I have no clue who he could be and that scares me to death.

All I want is to love and to be loved. (I think that's a line from the movie Holes or something.)

 I want someone I can tell everything to, and for that someone to care. Someone who will see the worst in me, and love me despite it. I need to confide in someone. I need to cry in someone's arms. I need physical contact--someone to put his arms around my waist, to rub my back, to kiss me. I need an emotional attachment. I need to TRUST somebody, or I'm going to go insane.

(untitled)

I felt something today. I mean, obviously I've felt a lot recently. You know the anger I've felt. You know the hurt. You know how you've tortured me. You know the absolute fury that fills me when I think about you and what you did and what I let you do.

But today, I felt something good.