Friday, August 19, 2005


No I do not work for the National Geographic.

No I do not work for the National Geographic.

Nor the Conde Naste Traveler. Nor the surfing O’Neill’s.
Nor do I hang around, loitering the sets of Playboy.

It's a hard choice not to.

Besides the money, fame and the perks those big guys throw around,
it's as much a wish as a need, for any aspiring photographer.

What I despise, though, is the attitude.
The bigger the name, the worse it becomes.

Maldives is small. It's impossible not cross each others paths.
Especially when those paths are queued with egos, sneers and
Trucks of photo equipment the big-namers carry around, to, perhaps exaggerate the bigness of the game.
Photography has become a game?
I thought it was all about moments, creativity and hard work.

I have seen Smarties being exchanged for smiles.
I have seen photographers bargaining with the power of greenbacks($$$).
I have seen magic. The special disappearing act performed by many hasty pros, (without even a thank) in search for the next, award-winning shot.

I am just being jealous. I know.
I am cheap.
I never, ever, offer anything in return for my photos.
Except love.
My people love me, just as I love them.

I also know that I belong. In Maldives, it’s difficult to navigate
the terrain, nor, dodge the beaurocracy that arises in the rush of the moment.

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