Capturing moments through Photography

Juan Moisés de la Serna

Translator: Emma Rowe

Editorial Tektime

2022

“Capturando el momento con una Fotografía”

Written by Juan Moisés de la Serna

Translator: Emma Rowe

1st edition: July 2022

© Juan Moisés de la Serna, 2022

© Ediciones Tektime, 2022

All rights reseved

Distributed by Tektime

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Prologue

It was an icy morning: one of those where you want to stay in bed until the sunlight forces you to get up.

I looked around me, contemplating the framed photographs on my bedroom walls. There were maybe a hundred, or maybe more: I had lost count. They were all framed: white, black blue… made out of wood, brass, silver… in an effort to make each one unique, different from the rest.

Dedicated to my parents

CHAPTER 1. MY FIRST JOB

CHAPTER 2. THE BACK OF THE PICTURES

CHAPTER 3. PHOTOGRAPHY SCHOOL.

CHAPTER 4. THE PERFECT MOMENT

CHAPTER 1. MY FIRST JOB

Life goes fast, even if you don’t want it to

Just look behind you and you will see the past.

It follows you wherever you go,

Closer everyday, taking years from your life.

Never ending, taking away things you love:

caresses and kisses, that day you shared

The past took it away, I don’t know where to find it,

Just in his image left in a portrait.

His affectionate words silenced,

His morning kisses and his caresses at dusk, gone.

Silenced without warning.

My entire life changed in an instant.

So many unsaid words, kissed undelivered,

Caresses still needed and everything remaining in the past.

A promise made to live together eternally,

Unaccomplished: the past arrived.

Nobody seems to care what the past stole,

It’s going to separate me from my life, leaving me without him.

The photos will remain where memory begins to falter,

It’s the past’s fault.

LOVE

It was an icy morning, one of those where you want to stay in bed until the sunlight forces you to get up.

I looked around me, contemplating the framed photographs on my bedroom walls. There were maybe a hundred, or maybe more: I had lost count. They were all framed: white, black blue… made out of wood, brass, silver… in an effort to make each one unique, different from the rest. Each one of those photos was a memory, or at least had tried to be, a moment, an image of the present turned into the past in an instant. I don’t know what to call it, maybe an obsession, but I had a need for it: to immortalise people, to keep their memory alive so that in time someone could see them and know what they had done. But it was only an illusion.

It all started in a small photography company, one of those ones next to a police station for people who were going to renew their ID card or passport; the ones that were swapped for automatic machines which gave you a lower quality photo for a lower price but served the same purpose. I didn’t know anything about that business, but I didn’t want to be any more of a burden on my parents than I already was. They put in a lot of effort to pay for me to go to university and they insisted that I concentrate on my studies and enjoy my time as a student. They had always told me that the important thing in life was what you achieved, the position you got and how much money you earnt so that’s why I tried to make a good impression on the boss in this job: my first job. I arrived an hour early and was the last to leave. Although the salary was not high and they didn’t pay me for those extra hours, at least it allowed me to help my family, even a little, in lightening the cost of my studies. So without meaning to, I was introduced to the world of photography, or rather: portraiture. It wasn’t complicated. Before taking the picture you only had to sit someone on a pre-prepared, well lit chair and then ask them to smile. Then afterwards collect their information and tell them to come back in an hour to allow the photo to develop. An activity I dedicated a few hours a day to, my main occupation being that of a student: attending classes, note taking, doing homework, handing in exercises and studying.

At first I didn’t even pay attention to what I was doing. “Please sit here”, “please smile”, “wait a moment” and “ready”. But everything changed when a serious and timid lady came in.

“Goodday, madam, can I help?” I said with a big smile.

“I’ve come for a photo.”

“Yes, of course, please tell me the receipt number.”

“What receipt number?” asked the woman, surprised.

“When an order is placed a receipt is given with a number on it. That’s what I am asking for.”

“I don’t know anything about a number and I have placed no order.” She replied, annoyed.

“Then are you here to either have some photos taken or have a reel developed?”

“No, no, what I want is to collect some photos.” The petit woman became somewhat agitated.

“Okay, then if you give me the name the photos are under I can look for the number.” I said, puzzled.

“I know that but it’s not for me.”

“They aren’t your photos?” I asked, surprised.

“No, well.. Yes…”

“Madam, if it’s someone else’s photo it needs to be that person who picks it up.”

“That’s what I’m talking about.” She stated as she put her bag on the counter and started to look for something inside.

“Explain, please, because I don’t understand.”

“Well you see, my husband passed away.” She said, shutting her bag.

“My condolences.”

“Thank you, but it has been almost a year.”

“Okay, so what does that have to do with the photos?”

“Well, I’ll tell you. In the weeks after his death I was so angry because he had cheated on me that I tore up his pictures.” She said in a rather angry tone.

“He cheated on you?”

“Yes, I can’t call it anything else. He promised me eternal love, that we would be together for the rest of our lives, that we would grow old together and look at me now. He abandoned me, left me alone, I won’t have anyone to share old age with.”

“Well Madam, I’m not sure I consider that cheating.”

“Why not? He swore it before a judge and God.”

“But I don’t think your husband decided to cheat you…”

“No, I understand that, it was Cancer that took him.”

“Okay, so…?”

“Even so he should have stayed with me, not left me all alone.”

“I understand your point but I still don’t understand why you’re here…?”

“Oh! Yes, well as I was saying, at first I felt very bad for that betrayal and I tore his things and his photos because I hurt every time I saw them.”

“Yes, you said.”

“Well what I’m saying is that over time I tried not to think about him, tried not to remember him so that I would hurt less.”

“And did it work?” I asked, curious.

“What do you think? Of course not! It’s like saying you’re not going to think about your right hand, even though it’s still attached to you, even though it’s still there.”

“What happened?”

“Well over time I tried to do the opposite of that, I tried to recover as many memories as possible.”

“Memories, what sort of memories?”

“Well I went to the places I had been with him, and tried to eat the same things, and buy the same souvenirs from those places.”

“And did that work?”

“No, on the contrary I felt a knot in my stomach when I arrived in the city on the bus and remembered every corner that I passed by with him.” She said sadly.

“And what about the food?”

“I tried, I tried many times, but it was impossible for me to eat the same things we ate and I spent hours staring at the plate without trying the food. I don’t know why, but I didn’t want to be there without my husband, and it only made the pain worse: realising that I was alone and that he was never coming back.”

“But I still don’t understand… What does that have to do with the photos?”

“As I said I destroyed them all thinking that… I don’t know… that it would make me feel better, make me forget… or… I don’t know what I was thinking. In any case, it left me with no photos of my husband and I am trying to recover them.”

“Recover them? How? Do you have a camera with the negatives on?”

“No, I tore them all up.” she said in a sad low voice.

“Then how will you recover them?”

“Well I am visiting all the photography houses that I remember that we went to, to see if they kept an image of my husband.”

“But Madam, how can that be possible?”

“Because it can’t not be!” she exclaimed, upset.

“But we photograph thousands of clients a year and we don’t save them all.”

“But you haven’t even looked.”

“I can try and have a look but I’m telling you I don’t think it’s possible.”

“Yes please, have a look. I hope I’m lucky because this is my ninth photography house and none of the others gave me a positive answer.”

“Because what you’re asking for is impossible.” I replied.

“Impossible or not, I have an important need to be close to my husband and the only way I think I can do it is through the photos.”

“Well, I can ask my boss.”

“Yes please, I would be very grateful. The truth is that I haven’t been lucky up to now, I haven’t found even one little photo and it’s very important to me.”

After giving me all the details she could about the approximate date that her husband could have had the photo taken, she left.

That encounter made me reflect on the importance of the job I was doing and even though the majority of the time my activity was limited to taking photos and spending hours developing them, the thought that I could help that woman made me feel good. The truth is, I don’t know how I would react in that situation, if my soul mate suddenly died overnight. Although in this case she had at least had some time to say goodbye, if you can call it that since it seems the Cancer advanced rapidly. He, however, didn’t have time to say goodbye. His last words were “I love you” and then that was it. At least that’s how the woman confessed it to me, crying all the while. All that sounded foreign to me since I hadn’t gone through the death of a loved one. I understood the suffering she was going through and her determination to recover the memory of her love, although I wasn’t sure if finding those images would ease her pain. She was wrong when she destroyed her husband’s photos because she felt a deep sense of betrayal and abandonment at the sight of them. I don’t know if recovering the images now will give her what she wants.

After telling the story to my boss, he told me not to bother looking for the pictures because the woman would probably not come back. But my boss was wrong, not only did the woman return that day, but the following day and the day after that, until I asked her not to return. I don’t know why but the woman had the impression that I didn’t want to help her and that I didn’t try hard enough to find her husband’s picture. What the woman had to bear in mind was that a year ago I was not in that job, so I did not know who her husband was or where the photos could be. According to my boss, after talking to him more than once, there was no way to locate the photos since they were not kept in the archives for long. I tried looking anyway: by first name, surname and even by some characteristics the woman had told me, but it was impossible.

That a photo could mean so much was surprising for someone who could take ten or twenty photos on a good day. The people didn’t pay much attention either because they only used them to carry out paperwork for official sites. Although it’s true that the photography office also offered other services like wedding or communion photos or for other social events. That was not part of my job, it was the job of external staff related to the boss. I didn’t really know what kind of relationship they had but I suppose he would take a percentage cut. Of course, apart from the photos that were taken there was also the development service, a service that had changed a lot in recent years according to the boss. So although previously it was quite artisanal, nowadays everything was done automatically by machine, you just had to make sure you put the first image on the reel in the right place. This was a simple job for a very basic salary but it allowed me to pay expenses, and despite the fact that my introduction to the world of photography was for economic reasons, over the years it led to a whole life experience that I will relate in this book. I don’t want to give examples or teach anyone anything, I am only trying to share a life full of experiences and photographs. For some photography will be nothing more than that moment kept in the past, for others it’s simply a decorative object for the office or home, for me photography is a way to express your love for others.

This was an evolution, however. So although there was a time when I liked to photograph plants and flowers, that’s passed now. At that time I thought it was important to share the beauty I could capture with my camera, but those that looked at it just saw a bee, a flower or a tree and did not see all the preparation that happens behind the image: the selection of the lens, the light and just the right moment to capture the image. For an untrained eye it was nothing more than a snapshot of nature, but for me there was beauty reflected in that photograph. As I mentioned though, it was only during a stage of my life that I later moved on from.

Now I think I am in a stage that we could call more mature, because I learned that beauty is temporary and lost over time, and I also learned that beauty is personal and what one sees as beautiful the other person does not. You have to keep that in mind. I learned that beauty is only beauty but that there is much more behind it and more important things, hence I dedicated myself to portraiture. Although anyone may think that it is the same thing, only instead of doing it about flowers and plants it is about individuals, for me it is much more. It is about capturing the essence of the person, both what they do and do not want to share, since we are a set of desires, intentions and beliefs and I have specialised in this area for years. One may think that beliefs are universal and common to all, but when you move a few kilometres away you realise that the experience is totally different, even when sharing some beliefs, and it’s expressed in a way of acting, dressing or celebrating differently. But if, instead of moving a few kilometres, we move a few hundred kilometres things change again. Since the same beliefs, customs and traditions aren’t shared it can be at least a little surprising because of its differences. This is where I specialised after abandoning naturalistic photography.

Even though I do not consider myself an expert in religion or a theologian or anything like that, I am able to identify which society it is based on its’ practices, and it’s precisely these differences that I have tried to highlight in my photos, seeking to capture the moment and the essence of it. There are many anecdotes I could share, but maybe the events that called to me the most were linked to an introduction to someone changing religion, which is known as the conversion phenomenon. I don’t know how to explain exactly why, but I think that it’s one of the most emotional ceremonies, especially for the person experiencing it and their families. It’s true that if we talk about emotional celebrations we can talk about weddings, in which two people promise to be happy together for the rest of their lives, or at least that is the initial intention. Another equally emotional moment, but in this case of an opposite feeling, would be funerals. But however emotionally charged these moments are, for me the most significant thing is the conversion. To someone else this phenomenon probably doesn’t attract much attention, it’s just about the transition between one belief or religion and another. But for me, abandoning what you believe in to adopt another belief, attracts my attention a lot because it’s not only about a different religious practice, some new prayers or rituals, but leaving behind everything you thought before to adopt a new way of being and thinking. Maybe if we think about someone who didn’t have a clear belief before, like in the case with atheists, we could believe or assume that the conversion is easier since they didn’t have a belief before so adopting one is simpler than changing one you already have. A rather simplistic view of reality which does not correlate to what is happening: if a person did not have a belief before there is surely a reason. In the other case, of people who already have their own beliefs, maybe it’s much easier to change to a new one so long as it offers something different to the previous. Therefore, it’s about taking a step forward in personal development, so to speak. I suppose the reason for the change is looking for something different which is not found in the previous religion practised, although the motivations may depend upon each person. Whatever the individual story, for me the most emotional scenario was seeing this conversion ceremony.

Religions establish a calendar to comply with these celebrations throughout the year, to comply with practices which take place on certain dates. In some cases it’s about remembering some past event which changed the course of history, or commemorating the birth or death of a prominent religious figure. Equally there are events throughout the year with celebrations linked to the moon, (because although they won’t admit it, some religions were built on previous beliefs which meant admitting certain rites, even if they were adapted to new circumstances), as well as the arrival of spring or autumn because that’s what was done before religion arrived. You would have to be a historian to know the origin of these ancestral customs though and I wasn’t. I only tried to reflect what I could see, I sought to collect these rites and ceremonies and share them with others through my photography. My ambition was not to create a historical archive of customs at each place, as some editorials had suggested, but without looking for or wanting it at this stage of my life, this job allowed me to meet incredible people. It’s not that they were different from the rest, or at least not in appearance, but their level of understanding of reality and human nature was far above what I could understand.

Sometimes these people were wise men, others were religious people, priests or similar, but in each case they had a great wisdom that I could not capture with my camera no matter how hard I tried. Primarily because they were not interested in portraying themselves for others, but also according to what they told me, they thought that I was wasting my time trying to transmit their teachings through an image. It was better that the person interested in learning their knowledge came to see them in person to listen or ask questions. This caused me a certain level of frustration at not being able to share their knowledge. Either way the photos did not turn out as I expected. It’s not that they moved or tried to make it not come out the same, it’s just that I couldn’t capture that moment of wisdom. Despite that, focusing on portraying the celebrations and customs brought me many surprises, then quickly, when my work started to be recognised, different religious institutions started to call me to photograph their lives and rituals. It was something like a window into their world, to make themselves known. Despite that not being my initial intention, it seemed surprising that they now let me photograph practices that could not normally be seen, such as inside monasteries or convents which were normally reserved for initiates.

Although that was one of my most notorious stages in the world of photography, and it gave me some international prestige and renown, it’s not what I dedicate myself to now. It’s been a while since I stopped photographing religious leaders, festivities and celebrations in order to dedicate myself to portraying ordinary people. This could be unusual for people who think that power, fame and money are important, but for me, at this time of my life, the important thing is people independently of what they earn, what they dedicate themselves to and everything else. I’m not looking for exceptional people that wear different clothing or who have tattoos people haven’t seen before. I dedicate myself solely and exclusively to photographing people who ask me to and I make sure to ask for the contact details of a family member who could be contacted in the future so as to not repeat the unpleasant experience of my first job where I couldn’t help that lady find her husband’s picture. I don’t know if that would help her with her loss or not but I spent a lot of time feeling uneasy thinking that someone had asked me for help and I hadn’t been able to offer any. So every time I took one of these current photographs I asked for the contact details of a family member just in case they passed away. Equally, I ask them to give my business card to those family members so they would know that I will always have a copy of that person’s picture, or at least, for as long as I’m alive. This was going to be my legacy for those that wanted it, and I don’t know if it would ease the suffering of some widow but what’s clear is that I was going to try to respond to a problem I couldn’t solve at the time.

Despite the above, after my youth I had to learn that time takes everything away, even our memories, so some of the portraits I took were never claimed by anyone. Unlike that first woman I couldn’t help, other people did not value the image of their loved one, or at least, did not value it in the same way. Sometimes because they didn’t want to remember it when someone died, as in the case of that first woman; other times because they didn’t realise that over time it would be the only thing left of their relatives. On some occasions I even proposed that they come and pick it up but they refused; particularly the ones who were sick or who were already a certain age, where the family preferred not to remember them that way, but the way they were when they were younger: they preferred to forget the last moments or years that were normally associated with the suffering of their loved one.

There are many anecdotes I could tell of that first job since I encountered new people every day and each with different interests. There were some who liked to talk and share things and others who came in for the photo and left. I had few memories of the latter whilst the former were more rewarding. Although the most important was the people like that first woman who wanted to… I don’t know how to say it… recover time… or recover her husband or something. I’m not really sure what she was trying to do.

As a matter of fact, I wasn’t in that first job very long. If I remember correctly, I didn’t even last an academic year since the subjects were so demanding that in the end I decided to dedicate myself fully to studying despite the economic sacrifice it put on my parents. Doing the maths however, if I had to repeat that subject it would cost much more than I was earning in that job, so my experience in the world of work was cut off for years since I didn’t start another job until I finished that degree. Maybe that’s why that woman’s decision to find her husband’s pictures stayed with me so much. I never found it despite dedicating a few hours to it in secret when my boss wouldn’t let me waste any more time. That woman was only looking for a photo of her husband, a photo of a face that no one remembered more than her, but a photo of such significance that she came to the door every day asking until she was asked not to return.

Something I learnt over time which was hard for me to accept was that we don’t control our destiny, or at least not in the way we think. Although it’s true that we can study or work to achieve our goals, what we achieve will not always correspond to the effort put in. At least that’s what I had seen in my fellow students, both the ones who finished the degree and those who abandoned it, the intention and effort was one thing, but the achievement is quite another. Some say it’s luck, others say that you need well connected acquaintances to get a job, but in my experience neither one nor the other guarantees the future. Without going into too much detail, I remember a colleague who, upon finishing his degree, began to teach at the university, and seemed to show promise for the academic world. I had already published several articles and collaborated on various investigations, but I was still looking for my first job. Well, my first job after finishing my degree because I already mentioned the experience I had in the world of photography.

Well, this colleague seemed to have a very promising future in the academic field following in the footsteps of