Andre Kertesz
Wandering Violinist, Abony, Hungary
1921
© The Estate of André Kertész
Scan courtesy of Masters of Photography
This photo is full of studium - full of pathos. I wouldn't have thought I would have found anything in this one - anything which would make me think on somethings on my coffee, long after I finish writing this up. But, it has! Might be very much accidental, this punctum - as most are; but, it's something which has always troubled me probably the most. There used to be a character, a boy, in one of the novels by Dostoyevsky, who never could quite come to terms with his father's public humiliation (well, I think it was The Brothers Karamazov, for I distinctly remember Alyosha making friends with the boy's mates), a boy who took it so much to the heart that he finally died.
The line left by some car on that dirt road! A car, since I see a parallel line to the background of the photo! But, the line - oh, the heart bleeds. The father (I suppose him so) is over the line, but the boy ain't yet. The father is leading, very reluctantly and very ashamedly, his boy to cross that line, and the boy has no choice - his father has already done so, does anything else matter?
The line left by some car on that dirt road! A car, since I see a parallel line to the background of the photo! But, the line - oh, the heart bleeds. The father (I suppose him so) is over the line, but the boy ain't yet. The father is leading, very reluctantly and very ashamedly, his boy to cross that line, and the boy has no choice - his father has already done so, does anything else matter?
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