The Lone Busker
...my portraiture series
...my portraiture series
Having used to capture images that deals with man-made/architectural marvels and other sceneries, I decided to come out of my comfort zone and work on capturing the thing that make us all human. Just working on a single 1.8 prime lens, my aim is to work on not only capturing people per se, but trying to understand and uncover the story behind them.
Coming from a more 'different' background of photography, where physical proximity is not really the norm, I was 'forced' to work beyond my comfort zone, both physically and stylistically. This is the first of a series of my documentary photography jaunts, and in this first set, I have tried my best to capture the spirit behind the lone yet spirited busker that I have made friends with at the Tiong Bahru Market, Singapore, on a cloudy Saturday morning.
Deriving great joy and comfort from playing to a passing audience, the lone busker is a testament to appreciating life's background 'actors'...of stories about those who are left behind to be forgotten, but who chose not to be, and more importantly, who are still NOT living on social charity.
He seemed to find great joy in playing on his harmonica, but underneath that facade, i could sense some degree of sadness, of morbidness, the kind that you feel would only perpetuate from someone who feels terribly lonely.
...but amidst all that latent sadness, he managed to do a number for me, and dance along to it.
...and who would have thought that this 71-year old is still full of live, and determination, to live his remaining years by still working for his next meal of the day...and not just hoping for social handouts. But then again, who am I to judge whether he is deserving of such a handout or not. Because underneath all that physicality, we wouldn't know what had happened before to him. Is he at this current state out of circumstances of his own choosing and doing, or was he really a victim of circumstances. I wouldn't know, and would never be able to know, as his elusiveness in pointing me to these answers always draw me to a blank. Or perhaps...there is this part of him that I would never ever know...or not meant to be known. Perhaps...perhaps...time can only tell and be the witness of all the things that have happened, and are going to happen.
and yet. through the grit of his toothless grin, he still manages to give me, a stranger, a simple smile to end off our meeting. And although I just have that feeling that it won't be my last meeting with him. I just couldn't tell when would it be the next time...if there is any at all too!
By: Irfan Darian
By: Irfan Darian
