I have stolen more faces than I have names
Busy market. Too many people, too much noise. I saw this mother with her hand resting on her son's head, keeping him close. She wasn't looking at him. It was just automatic—her palm there while she walked or stood or waited. This is not posed. Her hand just stayed. The red nails, the bangles, the... Continue Reading →
We don't know his name. We never do. In the city, they move like punctuation marks in sentences nobody reads. A flicker at the edge of a doorway. A shape beneath a parked car. A silhouette crossing the afternoon concrete, there and then not there. I made this photograph without seeing his face. That felt... Continue Reading →
I was visiting a remote temple when, quite unexpectedly, a group of Hindu priests arrived. They arrived in a quiet tide of white, filling the small temple doorway without a sound.I had my camera with me, and what followed was something I had not anticipated seeing that day. They immediately began paying their respects to... Continue Reading →
Street photography isn't about watching from safety; it’s about standing close enough to feel the friction of a crowd. At the water’s edge, two figures anchored the frame—their backs turned, their attention pulled entirely toward the horizon. They gave the composition its quiet structure. The photograph, though, belongs to the intrusive profile cutting into the... Continue Reading →
I have always been drawn to places where people gather around something that is deeply rooted in their lives. The akhara is one of those places. There is very little separation between the body, the earth and the activity here. The wrestlers train in the mud, fight, rest, watch one another and repeat the same... Continue Reading →
Life, Seen Honestly 