Faces of Kolkata and Varanasi
by Keef Charles
The eyes, it’s said, are the windows of the soul but it’s the face that offers our camera a more earthly glimpse of the person in front of our lens.
Click. When the forehead may furrow. When the brows knit in contemplation.
Click. When the eyes may light up or glaze over, stare, narrow or widen as pupils dilate, fall downcast or raise heavenward in thanks or disbelief.
Click. When the nose crinkles with distaste or nostrils flare, enraged, jaw clenched.
Click. When the cheeks may hollow, bulge or glow.
Click. When the lips may purse, part in smile or press tight in shy acknowledgment.
Click. The tongue, slightly protruding in bashful response I’ve noticed hereabouts. Click. Pushed out, more playfully, in gesture so cheeky and endearing.
Click. When the teeth show in luscious laugh.
Click. When the chin trembles or sets hard, when the neck is taut and extended.
Click and the ears pin back, radar like.
No two faces the same, the expressions we categorise into boxes. Thoughts escaping in myriad gestures. Comfort and harmony, sorrow and joy. Animated or immobile, silenced by mediocrity or the struggles of hanging on to a dream.
Seeing, seen.
Heart and soul.
It wasn’t particularly that I found the faces of people in India any more expressive than anywhere else but their openness gave greater impact. Perhaps it was also the fact that I had travelled so far to get here, eager to join up again with my big Nordic friend Niklas. Click. That smile beams large as his generous spirit. Time and place, distance travelled to meet up with new faces, unknown save for profiles and occasional messages. Click. That thoughtful look of a beautiful soul, Shubhodeep, anxious to ensure that our trip to his city was both magical and memorable.
I was here to shoot scenes and stories but I was drawn to portraits, storytelling through that most versatile of our features: the face, to which my camera surrendered.
From the baby in barber shop, eyes bright and wide (Click), past the girl with eyes alive with mischief, ready to run (Click), on to the old man staring blankly through bars of the window, resigned, it would seem, to life’s passing him by (Click). These are the faces I saw on my trip to India: Expressions Unfiltered.
