Saturday, February 12, 2011

After Moon River

Dhaka, Bangladesh, Jan 2011. ©Diya Pinto.

We got onto the boat for the over night party at around ten at night. The river was quiet. A few boats crossed in the moonlight.
When I awoke the next morning, after about 45 minutes of sleep, I was overwhelmed by the amount of boat trafic!

Monday, November 1, 2010

The Beauty Shot Dance

It's weird for me, coming from Bangalore, where my only exposure to fashion was through magazines I didn't buy...and to be suddenly thrust into this industry, where I watched a beauty shoot from start to finish, was, for the lack of a better word, weird.

As I am here to learn, and take as much as I can from this experience, I can't exactly cloud it with judgement; nor can I do so with cynicism. Instead, I tried to see the truth and art in this world of photographers, photoshop, thin women, and brilliant post production artists.

When the model (she could have been an actress. I saw in today's Bombay Time's page 3), dressed in horrible clothing and make up an inch thick, stood in front of the camera, the slouching women who had, minutes before, sat in the make up room, came to life. She was present, in the moment, and focused. The late night she'd had, where she stayed up all night at a friend's place, didn't matter, nor did it show. It was a beauty shoot, only her face and shoulders would be in frame, but as she moved, ever so slightly, her expression and pose conveyed something else entirely. She kept moving, gracefully and slowly; her eyes, sometimes sexy, sometimes soft, sometimes sensual. But never the same for more than one shot. Even though it was just her face that was needed, her body played the role too. Her feet would move slightly under her dress as she played the role of a model, her back straitened and stiffened and moved like a dancer.

After the needed shots were taken, she stepped out of that role, changed into her jeans, and went home.

We all play roles. What helps me here in this incredibly shallow and fake industry is playing my role of student and observer: to neither be consumed by it nor stand back in a place of judgement. To walk that fine middle line and take as much as I can from it. Then, put on my jeans and go home.

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Held at Gunpoint.

After being threatened to start a blog (or shall I say, strongly encouraged), I'm writing my first post.

So...

...there it is.

More to come.

I promise.

Yes, this is cynical. But, who knows, magic might happen soon.