The Work of Art

I am no kind of photographer.  The act of taking pictures makes me uncomfortable, and I am awkward when having my picture taken.  But I also get very taken by conversations and debates about photographs and photography and (in particular) photographers, (e.g. the boundaries and overlap between pictures vs. art vs. documentation) in part because I don't have the sentiments, convictions and investments into the practice that many, many people do.  And I always take mental note when the rare urge emerges for me to reach for my camera (I finally transitioned from film to digital 2 months ago) to capture an image or a moment.

This urge struck while visiting the Landmine Museum in Siem Reap, which is already a riveting place (to say the least) given that Cambodia is the most land-mined country in the world, on top of the fact that it is also the most bombed country in the world (good old US of A secretly dropping over 250 million tons of bombs on Cambodia between 1969 and 1975). When I turned a corner and saw this painting hanging, unframed and unsigned, I was arrested.  I stood for a while staring at him staring off, and then went for my camera.  I don't know exactly what it is about this painting that made me want to have an image of it; the ubiquitous krama, the sense of resistance, the brown skin, the contours and shading of his face, the Khmer features so similar to the people that I was now surrounded by, the fact that the art I had seen until this point memorialized the Angkor Wat more than highlighted Cambodian people, because it was just so unexpected in that moment, in that place...  In any case, I found that I wanted him, and maybe part of that was so I could share him with you.