It happens in the frequency of a sinus curve. Once a year or twice, from time to time, I sit down, look at my pictures and think that I missed something. I try to reveal beauty, perfection, pretty- and uniqueness. I do this with the attempt of technical perfection. Composition, light and exposure wise. And I really try hard. I do.
But it does not work. All I got is 10 fists full of nice, pretty and sometimes really good portraits. Not more, but not less either.
In these moments I get sick of this razorsharp, evenly lighted and good - in the mainstream meaning of the word - framed pictures. I'm so sick of nice and beautiful perfection.
Perfection won't show real beauty.
A perfect thing,
moment, mood,
person
is not beautiful.
Never.
Hunting for perfection is masturbation.
Imperfection might be the answer.
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