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I don’t understand when people proudly proclaim that they don’t edit their pictures. No siree, not a bit. I don’t understand this, is this a sort of standard? I am not criticizing their stance but I just don’t get it. I am myself an unashamed toucher-up of photographs. I chop, I crop, I tilt, I enhance colours, I change the white balance. I split tones, I cross process, I play with curves, I add hues, and I change saturation levels. I go monochrome. I eliminate annoying colours and remove people’s facial flaws and smoothen their skin. Why? Well because a photograph to me no longer is only what I see through my eyes but I want to see. I feel touching up a photo can add a character or sentimentality which didn’t exist in the original photo. I try and add an element that exists in my mind when I come upon a scene, and then leave it to the viewer’s interpretation. I am no good with drawing or painting – composing a photograph and then editing it gives me some degree of control but nothing comparable with what a talented painter has. I can’t manipulate photos, but if I knew how to, I would. I prefer to imagine small stories in little things and people’s lives and give them a sadness or gayness depending on how they make me feel.

Lonely dog at wedding

rust

Bag in the Jardin des Tuileries

Dog on display in Amsterdam

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