Barcelona, Spain 2005
Barcelona, 2005
In 2005, while walking the streets of Barcelona, with my D70 in tow, I stumbled upon this hair salon. The scene that unfolded in front me; a row of vibrant red chairs set against a crumbling stucco wall and in the center, a woman reading the latest edition of VOGUE. She sat with a verticality that made the room feel small. Her face was a study in grand proportions. Her eyes were large, framed by the sweep of heavy, well-manicured eyebrows. Her lips wore a strong, provocative shade of red. She sat with a dignified air; indifferent to her vulnerable state.
I tried to gather the courage to ask her permission to take a photo but deep inside I knew that no Spanish woman of her stature would ever agree to be photographed in such a state. I walked away. I could not stop thinking about her. I knew that as a photographer, I could not let this opportunity pass by. Nothing worse than being haunted by the ghost of those photos you let go in the past.
I turned around and rushed back, hoping nothing had changed. I arrived and walked in. As she raised her gaze at me, I asked for permission to take her photo. Unfazed by my request, she questioned what it was I saw that made me want to take a photo.
I told her about the whole scene — the way the red chairs led the eye straight to her. I told her how dignified and beautiful she looked, even in her state, and how that crumbling stucco behind her made her look ever so stoic.
She agreed and I hastily took this one photo. I was really intimidated and didn’t dare take any more of her time. I thanked her and walked away with a smile on my face and butterflies in my stomach.