| Translated by: Fatima Al-Halwachi
"Any scene that does not show the
numerity in one eye, cannot be counted upon"
Ibn Arabi
A photographer that does not see or show in every millimeter of movement a different scene and a different perspective, cannot be counted upon! What is the story of this millimeter? What does it have to do with time? With pictures? With vision? With geometry? With me? Yet there is a permeative thing that causes a shivering feeling within me whenever I attempt to capture a picture, whenever I decide to end a whole ecstasy, and open multiple bits of pleasure for the observer. I would then take a very deep silent breath, as I seek pressure on the small capture button on my camera. It's a condition in which a receptive state of an artistic scene is initiated within it from the whole all at once, while the parts are not viewed until afterwards. I mean the picture of course, or sometimes "the mirror"! It seems to me that this process could be closest to a prose in which its climax is at its very beginning. How would it be then, if I decided at that very moment on changing the visual geometric perspective of the picture one single millimeter of space? Would the whole visualization alter? Would a new geometry initialize, withholding new intertwining calculations of dimensions, and causing the observer to enter a state of disorientation, despite that carefully planned idea he had already visualized? Would everything wither even though it's a moment in which all the senses combine to create? A single millimeter, no more! As if you were reluctantly trying to hold grab of history! That moment is history too.. It is time.. After that, you would be astonished as you start inspecting the image you held from its components, realizing that all of it remains with you as well, every single part of it, as you visualize it moment after another, and as you get more involved in your reading of it. I retrieve to the camera again, arranging a familiarization between myself and the surroundings, I see through to it, through the window of the camera, the window of the eye. A sense of security reaches within me when I find the scene to be unstable, and when I know that the millimeter of time that I did not count upon has deprived me the vision and image forever, even though that familiarity was a fraternity. It seemed to me more like an exaggeration in an approach when obstructly rebounded. Only then, I make sure that expatiating upon a scene does not produce a vision, and that discussing a photograph is a troubling agony. Photography is a continuity of viewing an astonishment, through a familiarity with the story of time in a single millimeter of movement. Though it could not be counted as a type of familiarity connected with a repetitive manifestation of a single photo. It is a familiarity of that does not produce images - as Ibn Araby beholds view - and cannot be counted upon. Hereto, I scrutinize Ibn Araby's saying "Every matter that enables you to view yourself through it is a mirror", and so, I loose the arithmetic calculations of the living mirrors within a single millimeter, causing the reflection to become unlimited to only that which dazzles. At that very moment, the reflected image becomes unlike its origin, and does not look anything similar to what it had reflected from, or even an intended imitation of it. Now we can begin with the story of the millimeter of movement, the millimeter of vision. The more the millimeter narrows at the moment of capturing a photograph, the more possibilities arouse in the prose and time of the image, just as the numerous dew drops on a tree leaf bless us with an equal number of suns. |