Celtic cultures believed in thin places, these were
“mystical places or ‘thin’ places where the veil between this world
and the eternal world is thin.”1 There
a few thin places in my own life. The first one is the Adoration Chapel, where
Our Lord is present in the Blessed Sacrament; it is there that God is present
among us and the opportunity to be close to Him and pray with Him is absolutely
amazing. The other thin place, outside of Church, is not necessarily a fixed
space, but more of one that I create with my camera.
I have been taking photographs as a pastime for many years; it
brings me a lot of relaxation and an opportunity to express my creative side. I
really enjoy architecture, so photography gives me a chance to play with angles
and shapes that challenge the eyes of the viewer. When it comes to capturing
people, or even particular places, something magical happens; I come
closer to the people, I’m drawn into them because I am able to, so to speak
zoom into their life, or at least a moment of their life. This is particularly
true when I travel.
When I travelled to the communist island of Cuba in 2017, I was
very exciting to visit a place that I had been wanting to for years. I grew up
with very close Cuban friends and have always been fascinated by their culture,
particularly their history, views on politics and focus on excellence; I love
Cuban food and music and many of their films, like Suite Habana, Fresas
y chocolate, Memorias de subdesarollo.
Usually, I am always hesitant to whip out my camera and start
taking photos wherever I go because many people do not like their photo taken;
there’s a sense that I am taking something from them in a very impersonal
way when I snap away without real consideration or true acknowledgment for
the person I’m photographing. People are not objects or animals, meaning
that they are not “on display” at a museum or in a zoo, where I can just
show up and take their picture. I have to be more
sensitive than that.
To connect with real people in real situations is a complex
matter, especially when one attempts to do so through a camera lens.
There’s a lot of suffering in Cuba, a lot of poverty, a lot of hidden turmoil;
for a photographer, Cuba can and does have an aesthetic appeal that stimulates
the senses, but if not taken in a proper way, a
photograph can leave the viewer outside of the image. Photography should invite
us into it, into its setting, into the lives of the people.
I’ve learned that the photographer first has to live in
a space before capturing it; one must talk to the people,
laugh with them, hurt with them, sing with them, dance with them
even. It’s only after making this personal connection that the photographer can truly focus on
taking the first photo. Once I follow this procedure, the space that
takes place within my camera's frame, the place I create with my art, this
becomes my thin place. I am then able to capture its
essence, its “soul”. The image in the camera's viewfinder travels
through my eye and into my heart and soul; it's here that the world without
connects with the world within. The "subject" is now a part of
me and I a part of it. I am the other. @latinofilmmaker
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1 Mindie Burgoyne, “About the Thin Places
Blog”, at Thin Places, Where this world meets the Eternal World, www.thinplace.net (March 1,
2020)