One of the things I love photographing most, while out and about, or traveling abroad, are statues. You know how some places have 2-3 "big" statues that all the tourists wanna get a photo of? Not those. Not because of the tourist thing making it harder to get a good shot (though that, too), but I find smaller gems just secreted away from the limelight.
Sculpture is one of the arts that I would so love to have an inclination towards, as I think there's something very powerful in leaving your art in stone, or marble, or lead. Something atemporal, and unwavering. And the fact that you're leaving behind a face, an expression, a feeling, to me is all the more magical.
I like to imagine what went on in the mind of the sculptor, when designing a piece. Imagine taking all your rage, fear, or hurt, and capturing it so perfectly in something sturdy, and reliable, that can hold it. So that you can walk away free. I love that idea, but personally, I'll stick to writing my feelings into stories, and the occasional drawing.
I will, however, seek out unusual photographs, and for today, I wanted to focus on some of my favorite feminine sculptures from around the world. The ones in this post are from my recent trips, namely from the Andalucia region in Spain, and from Lisbon.
It fascinates me how many of them are faceless, or broken, like this one above. I loved her for the cracks in her face, but also for being put back again. Like me.
Mothers with great, sloping breasts, also without a face. Without eyes, succumbing to blindness, or perhaps sight of a different nature.
Flower women with sloping crowns, to steal focus and forgive their featureless faces.
I like her, as well, the bored expression. I think she was a queen once, but she waited too long for something, or someone, and that's how she died. Waiting. That's why half her face is gone. She's decaying, and still, she waits, with her coiffed hair and her regal gown.
... and you, finally. Hair sticking to your head. Naked but undaunted, hurt and lost and hindered in your growth. Or perchance free.
These are women of endless stories, just like the women in the real world. The ones who aren't statues yet. Who are waiting, or perhaps wandering lost. The mothers with flowers in their hair. And in them, captured all the emotion that these statues work so hard to express.
It's funny we take pictures with statues, that in them, we see the expression and emotion and guilt and desire that in the people around us, we deem buried.
Maybe it's time to look around.
