This image is from the book, Kin, by Pieter Hugo.
When I came across it earlier today, it imprinted on my mind. I was captured by its authenticity and rawness. I just had to know about the talent behind the lens and as you can see, when I found Pieter Hugo, as well as the rest of his work that’s been exhibited across the world including the Cartier-Bresson Foundation in Paris, I couldn’t wait to share my enthusiasm.
I am no photography guru, let alone an eligible critic where photography and art are concerned. Having said that, I hope you can agree that there is something mysteriously charming and yet saddening about this image. The model’s face. The pose. It cuts through as if she is saying, “I see you seeing me”.
In the Nespresso Magazine #24, Gabriella Rocopollo describes Pieter as an artist who exhibits his photographs the way a child would reveal the treasures stored in a secret box – an artist who captures the world of his models with still-fresh fractures, wounds and scars. I couldn’t agree more! There’s just something about a moment that’s captured at the right time – be it a person, nature or even completely random stuff.
This image touched my soul!
Last Thursday, a colleague asked us to participate in her project—recording a video on why we love our age.
It was quite easy to ad-lib why I love my age. There’s just something about being 30-something that makes me feel like I can do absolutely anything. The confidence levels somehow quadrupled from when I was in my 20s (I just wish that collagen levels also quadrupled the further up the years go).
Once the excitement of being in the video subsided, I found myself truly reflecting on my experiences since entering this decade. I am 32 years old and I realise that almost all the views I’ve heard about being thirtysomething are based on a do or die approach – a ‘you must be mature and responsible or lose all hope’ type of thinking.
Being in my 30s is as exciting as it is baffling for me. It’s the stage of my life where I’m more confident about a lot, even though I don’t feel as youthful. It’s the age where I feel sexy as hell but umm well, the age where I can also notice the thin lines on my forehead when I take a closer look in the mirror. It’s the stage of life-changing events: marriage, long work hours to secure that job, postponed vacations, and homework. Man, if I had to write a grade five Social Science exam at the end of this year, I would get an A+.
This age bracket teaches me that spending time alone doesn’t mean lonely (there’s such little ‘me time’ that ‘home alone days’ are like a treat); that saying ‘sorry’ and meaning it is not a sign of weakness; that asking for help is not a sign of vulnerability; and that there’s a lot I might have mapped out when I was 21 that I haven’t yet achieved, and it’s ok because there’s much more I’ve achieved that my 21-year old mind could never comprehend.
So what if I feel socially misplaced in a club setup and I carry my Caltrate and Omega 3 supplements almost everywhere I go? Guys, I would not trade these years for anything. I am having the best busy time of my life!