the beholder

portrait of max

at first i wondered what it was like. to see through those eyes.

pale green-blue. point and shoot. piercing through the veil of all that was vanilla. beige. boring.

he saw in technicolor. a modern-day toulouse. saturated. infatuated. bright lights. rouge lips. making love to the moment with his cannon and his quest: for beauty. for drama. for all that was “fierce” and fashionable.

sitting around on a lazy saturday afternoon, he turned ordinary objects, people, places into emotions, stories, operatic moments. hipsters in wonderland, shot in the front yard amongst overgrown succulents and the LA sunshine. a carnie side show in a rented palm springs palace. decked out divas at the decadent viceroy.

his imagination danced in shadows and light. he shot leaves, vases, floors, furniture. interiors. exteriors. patterns. textures.

he shot everything. and nothing.

he was, by no means, an optimist. rose-tinted glasses? hell to the no. try bold-tinted glasses. he was seasoned in snark and the scenester celeb scoops. his love of drama only deepened with the cast of characters he met in lala land.

and his taste was not for everyone. glamorous. garish. provocative. polarizing. certainly not for the faint of heart.

but that was no matter. his vision was his own.

costumes. camp. collages. and above all, color. they all converged in these eyes. that saw the potential, the possibility, to elevate. any moment. at any time.

to him,

every surface was a canvas.

every window was a mirror.

every sidewalk was a runway.

every ordinary person—with a splash of red lipstick and some sultry staging—could emerge a supermodel or a washed up socialite or a delicious diva at the drop of a floppy sun hat.

statues were ancient sirens.

and his beloved cat, bruno, a prince, persian royalty, his highness in the hollywood hills.

to linger on beauty. to chase light. to devour color. to infuse into things or people a feeling. or a thought. or even better to create an entire story in a single frame.

that is what it was like to see. through his eyes.

and now through mine.

photography lessons with the blind

Advertising is a funny thing. It can make you chuckle, wince, laugh, cry, roll your eyes, crack a smile...but mostly it can make you feel nothing. Often in my household, it's the grey matter, the background noise that occupies the space between real life and fantasy, substance and escape.

But every once in awhile, you encounter a campaign that changes the way you think. Alters your perception of an everyday thing. Inspires you to see the world—or yourself—in a completely different light.

Samsung’s “Photography Lessons with the Blind” is one of those campaigns. 

Background: In Korea, Samsung Electronics holds by far the largest market share for compact digital cameras. But the brand wanted to increase mind share—going beyond simply building good cameras to creating a brand with deep philosophical substance.

The Idea: They handed out cameras to 11 visually impaired students, taught them basic photography skills, and then travelled with them to various locations. Over 50 days, the students captured all that they could sense onto their cameras. Amazed at the outcome, Samsung opened an exhibition with their best photos—all of which had been turned into 3D sculptures so that the photographers could actually feel their pictures.

Beyond boosting Samsung’s mind share and earning Cheil Global a prestigious Cannes Lion, the campaign taught something even more valuable: That the mind sees what the eyes cannot, and that vision is but one way to view the world.

For those of us blessed with the gift of sight, do we use it? Are we present in those moments? Or is there more to see than meets the eye? More to observe, more to appreciate, more to feel with our heads and our hearts?

As the saying goes, “Life isn't about how many breaths you take but how many times your breath is taken away.”