Love, as in actual physical love, is something that is either believed in or not. For those of us that have had the pleasure of touching it for the briefest of moments, it is something that lasts for nearly a lifetime. Whenever we look back upon those times it is either in bliss, or in a false sense of hope. I say false sense because, after all, if you are looking in the past it is usually in a hop that something like it will happen again. But as with most, we can never be sure that it will. This love that I speak of is not the blood love that runs through your family, but the love that is shared between two people with no ties needed other than the stings that hold their hearts.
So what is it about love that drives us wild? Those quiet moments that are shared, the moments that pass, the moments that linger; all of which are expected, and yet none of which come frequently. We all have our own ways of trying to obtain it. If we lack it for a prolonged time this love gets pushed onto an OCD like attitude for object that will bring pleasure though trial and error, bloody knuckles, distress, and deep research. Personally it is predominately limited to photography, automotive construction, and tailoring. While I write about this complex of OCD, I realize that all of these passions due to a loveless life are actions that are introverted in nature, but expand to very extroverted lifestyles.
Through photography a person enveloped in the shot, their surroundings, and those oh so secret settings on the camera; all the while interacting with the subjects to develop a fantastic shot. The man behind the lens must be the same man that is talking and producing through it. Automobiles are a way for someone to troubleshoot, diagnose, and create under a shade tree. Like photography, working on a car can be done by yourself or in complete company of like-minded people. The photographer/mechanic is now controlling the situation through the turning of lens/wrench. Above all, the act of tailoring requires the steadiest of hands and the sharpest of eyes. Through it you turn a normal lackluster piece of cloth that one considers a piece of clothing, into a well made form fitting piece of elegance that all ask about. It takes the patience of a photographer, and the mind of a technician, to truly astound those around with tailoring.
All of these things, like love, are simple in nature: the photograph is point and shoot, the car that moves, and the clothes that fit. Although once we delve into their fantastics do we really understand the greatness of their complexity; the ISO/shutter/aperture of the camera, the movement of the car’s suspension, the persona beneath the apparel. So this concept that “love is easy, love is simple” is nothing more than an outsider looking in; glaring.
Next time one of those hipster l337ests claim that the shots from Hedi Silmane and Henri Cartier-Bresson are nothing more than poppycock; question their sanity, and their shoes.
-till next time