This is my way
8 images Created 19 Jul 2016
It is so obvious now but twenty years ago it wasn’t. One early morning in the summer of 1996 my mom left us while we were sleeping. She dropped a note to me saying she hadn’t been able to go on like that anymore, and she would call soon. Twenty years from then I’m still waiting for her call. On that early summer morning mom took away all her belongings plus our family albums as if she wanted to rob us not only of our future with her but also of our past. She even took the pictures of my dog, the only true friend of my gloomy childhood. I was very angry at mom. Because she left, because she didn’t call, because she took away our common memories. Initially I felt guilty for not being a child good enough so she had to go away from me. With years passing I realized that I shouldn’t feel responsible for her decision. Then it came to me that it might have been mom’s right to choose her own future and I shouldn’t be harsh with her, except for not keeping the promise to call. And even that was forgiven at the end. But my anger shifted from her to the photos she had taken, and in a strange twist of mind, to photography in general. These were hard years, I had to provide for our living with my dad out of job and crashed by the fate he presumed unfair and thus even bitterer. I stayed away of photography but my attraction towards it had been swelling in my sub consciousness like water current stopped by a dam wall deliberately put to prevent me from suffering. Until one day I accidentally came across a collective photo exhibition and realized that photography can actually heal by telling stories, by showing visions, by inspiring people. The wall in my mind toppled down and since then I take pictures of people I meet, of light I see, of darkness I sense, of doubt I feel, of silence I here. This body of work reveals the multifaceted reflections of everydayness as seen and perceived by me while going through the routine of living. Because this is my way.