Dear Dad,

I smell of portraits.

No. Really. I do.

I smell of portraits.

Before today, I didn't know that portraits could have a smell. But they do actually. And - don't get me wrong - it's not because I'm not paying attention to hygiene; I smell like portraits because that's what I did today. I spent one hour taking portraits of the common people of India. These are the ones who spend most hours of their days working in their shops along the main streets. They are those whom we westerners would call "blue collar workers" in the most hardcore sense.

Rig-shaw drivers. Sugar cane laborers. Mechanics. Grocers. Tailors.

The Indian people don't seem to be much concerned with cleanliness or hygiene. Garbage is strewn in piles all along the streets. Sidewalks double for makeshift bathroom stalls, and the sewage slowly drips into the drains with an other worldly stench. Fingernails are grown out for, well, let's just say "business" purposes. And the dirt; the dirt of cars, bikes, rig-shaws, buses, and animals fills the air and dusts you with a layer of grime from things of which you don't want to know.  It is in such an environment that the people of India work and labor, day after day, after day.

Today, these are the people of whom I took portraits.

I  think had you been out there on the streets with me, there would have been times you would have been uncomfortable. Not because of the dirt, but because of the nature of the location. The percentage of men in public places compared to the percentage of woman is vastly different - even startlingly different. Typically, if I am in an international location, I will try to take portraits of women and children - certainly not approaching men. I don't want to give the wrong impression [I think you'd be glad of that.  ;-) You trained me well...]. Here, it is almost impossible to just go to the streets and take portraits of the women. Either they are not around, or they are shy and won't allow you to do so.

Today was interesting. I found myself following the hand motions of men and children who wanted me to take portraits of them in their work environment. The rig-shaw drivers in their rigs-haws. The shop owners with workers of their shop. I was surprised - especially after previous experience - to be the one being approached for photos of the people. It was delightful actually. Being able to give joy to these people who invest so much of their time and energy into survival.

I promise, I've never been on the street in a completely dangerous situation - I mean, it is India after  all. But overall, there have been very few times I've felt uncomfortable with my camera out among the locals. I've been surrounded by street children, old men, families, and other such crowds with nothing but a firm grip on my camera and a friend somewhere nearby to keep me. Of course, there's the greatest Protector of all who is also watching my back.

What I enjoy about going out to photograph India, is that I never know what I'm going to find. I never know what kind of opportunity I may have to photograph. In fact, so far I've gone into my times to shot with a mindset precisely the opposite of the photographs I capture. If I go out with an intense purpose to get portraits, the time and place doesn't really work out; but if I go out casually for shots of India in general - like today - I come upon the most beautiful people I have ever seen and am privilege to capture some of the most beautiful portraits I have ever taken.

Sure, I smell like portraits. I smell like the real workers and citizens of India. But it's a smell that will wash off. It will eventually go away.

I also come away with something that will never fade.

That is why I don't mind.

In fact, I kind of hope that I get to smell this way again. And soon.

Luv you Dad. Thank you for the prayers...

Christina  

Dear Brother Benjamin,

This morning I attended an Anglican church.

Over one hundred years old, this building made of brick and stone holds worship services based on age old traditions. A steeple rose high above the compound. Hymnals and prayer books sat stacked on an old wooden stand. The pews were of carved wood and at their base were prayer cushions for worshipers to kneel. The windows were stained glass framed under beautiful arches. The women entered the church and with sovereign reverence pulled their scarves over their heads.

From all my travels and visiting churches, I've never seen anything quite like this. I've never experienced a service more beautifully reverent.  I think you would have been as awe struck as I.

I confess, the formal service was heartfelt and sincere, but far more worshipful than most churches I have attended. Perhaps the stillness and quiet limited distractions. Perhaps the speaking of the church together in unison provided a focus. Perhaps the solemn atmosphere directed attention to a throne room that is other worldly.

I am not altogether sure, even now, how or why, but in those few hours I felt with absolute certainty that God was filled with pleasure at the worship of His people. And despite everything you and I have discussed regarding churches and their organized worship services, I think I would like to go back every now and then.  And I think you would have been as awe struck as I.

Perhaps that holy, reverent, still, and quiet worship is something that we all need from time to time. The removal of personalities and preferences, performances and projectors actually gave me the ability to focus my vision as if we were in the very throne room of God. I am not saying that such things in their place are irreverent - not at all. But the removal of these elements provided for an opportunity to focus, wholly and incomparably on the worship of God.

It makes me wonder what our lives would look like if we were able to simplify. Remove all distractions of emotionalism, intellectualism, personalities, and trends enough to make God the everything of day to day worship. Would my idea of fellowship with Him be different? Would my attention span to still and quiet meditation become more lasting? Could my expectation change; be transformed from a worship that is led by entertainment, to a worship that is led by the still and small voice of God?

It actually causes me to question my own creation of art. Are my photos or projects artistic pieces that entertain, or that allow people to see the Holiness of God, and inspire a life of worshipful reverence? In the end, that is what I want my art to inspire. And that is what I want to live by.

Don't you?

Luv you bro.

Christina