Author: Aron Schuftan

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Bangladesh. Day 4- The Girl in Red

After a much-needed sleep-in, day 4 started at the Shaheb Bazar Kacha market.  Part slaughter house, part fish market and part vegetable market.  It was so picturesque that I barely noticed that my feet were soaked in blood and dirty, stagnant fish water. 

In general, everyone was very happy to let me take their pictures as they went about their workday. But for the few vendors that were hesitant to let me take their picture I had to break out my tried and tested secret weapon: I would walk up to him (oddly, 99% of vendors are men in Bangladesh), look him straight in the eyes and with all the heterosexual energy I could muster, I would tell him “Tumi onek sundor” (“Hello, you are beautiful”). After that, resistance didn’t stand a chance.  This would undoubtedly disarm them and elicit a smile (and roars of laughter from onlookers)- and a silent resignation and permission to take their photo (#protip).

On our bumpy 3-hour ride towards Bogra, the landscape alternated from sugarcane fields, to rice paddies to the chili fields of Shingra. The time was spent discussing photography, comparing notes (“Which lens did you use?”), and having long discussions on the difference between travel photography and street photography.

As we turned a bend in the road we all shouted to the driver in unison, “STOP!!!!!”.  

There she was, like a beacon of light in a foggy harbor; a young girl harvesting rice wearing a bright red evening dress.  If you would have staged this shoot you could not have picked a better subject and outfit. The contrast of the dress, not only in its color against the landscape but also with the juxtaposition of her harvesting rice in an elegant gown, was unreal, bizarre… perfect. The “old soul” expression of the young girl’s face, the tattered basket in her arms, the small detail of the yellow flower in her hair were all photographically stunning.  
She lives at my house now...

 

She lives at my house now…

Click HERE for DAY 5: Hit by a Train (Almost)
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Bangladesh. Day 3- Trump! And Sticking Needles in your Eyes.

After two very intense days in the crowded and polluted streets of Dhaka, it was time to jump on a flight to Rajshahi in the West, close to the Indian border. Nicknamed the Silk City, Rajshahi is often considered the most clean and green among the cities of Bangladesh.

I wandered along the Padma River bank, interacting with the locals, drinking chai and explaining endlessly that I didn’t support Trump (“Trump! Trump?!”- the favored response when I said I was from the US). 

 We explored the town’s narrow alleys and colorful walls.  It was the kind of town where livestock would roam freely on the streets, and the faint smell of fried sweet Jalebi hung in the air.

While walking, a large crowd of gathering men “caught-my-eye” (figuratively and almost literally). I pushed my way to the front, deliberately taking advantage of my “curious tourist” card.

At the center of the crowd was an old man with an as-old wooden box filled with antique bottles of potions and powders. I stood in awe as the old man repeatedly dipped the tip of a long thin needle into an apothecary’s jar filled with a gray/black powder and stuck it into the eyelids of the patiently waiting men.  One after another, with only the symbolic wipe-down of the needle with a dirty handkerchief between patients, the “pharmacist” would skillfully apply eyeliner to the waiting men! Hygiene was clearly overrated.  Now, I’ve heard that beauty is pain, but this was ridiculously dangerous!

This tradition dates back to The Prophet Mohamed as he believed that “kohl” brightened vision and made eye-lashes grow. It is used by many Muslim men today as a sign of devotion.  Sadly, as I found out later, the powder used is often extremely high in lead content, which in some severe cases, can cause lead poisoning.

Seeing my obvious fascination with this eyeliner assembly line, the Marquis de Sade graciously offered me a chance to participate in this communal ritual but the doctor in me just couldn’t accept.

And yes, Chicken Biriyani for dinner…

Click HERE for DAY 4: The Girl in Red
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Bangladesh. Day 2- Human Ants and the Commuters

I arose from my deep slumber to the gentle sounds of the Muezzin’s call to prayer, an alarm clock since the days of The Prophet Mohammed. After a quick chai (aka: Rocket Fuel), we arrived at Gabtoli, a small local port where dozens of barges, filled to the brim with jet-black chunks of coal, were docked. An army of men and women streamed in an endless conga line, before us.   Traversing narrow planks of wood, bowing at their weight, they skillfully balanced full baskets of crumbling coal on their heads, off-loading their contents onto towering piles along the shore.

For their troubles, each worker would receive a small plastic token per basket emptied, which they would exchange for money at the end of the day.   Back and forth, back and forth, again, and again, and again.  The work was endless, dirty and tedious.  But once again- smiles greeted me as I tried to move around the endless stream of “ants” to find the best angles.

The harsh late-morning sun was now upon us.  I was still buzzing from the chai (or was it from the photos?), and I was anxious to unbuckle my arsenal of heavy camera gear. Weak “Bideshi”!(foreigner). A lunch of street-food chicken biriyani (the first of 100 eaten) was welcomed as we sought refuge from the noon day heat. We excitedly recapped the morning’s events and Etienne reminded us of some photography fundamentals.  We then headed to Kamlapur Railway station to continue our search for “the perfect shot” and to relish in the shade of the railway platforms.

Frozen in time, old rusty colonial trains came and went carrying all type of commuters with the associated hustle and bustle of a busy Third-World commuter hub. The metal on metal squeal as the lumbering trains screeched to a halt just added to the movie-like mystique.  As a photographer that loves to play with the “frame-in-frame” perspectives, the subjects that were naturally framed in the windows of the trains made for some amazing portraits.

Chicken Biriyani for dinner….

Click HERE for DAY 3: Trump! And Sticking Needles in your Eyes.
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Bangladesh. Day 1- Man on Fire

“You know they burn people alive there, right?”

“They are desperately poor and would do ANYTHING to get your money.”

“They’ll lock you into their tuk-tuk, splash gasoline on you and if you don’t pay them, they will set you alight!”

My friend’s terrifying warnings echoed in my head as my airplane descended in the darkness.  I had the excited yet nervous feeling of someone about to go under the knife for plastic surgery.  Destination: Dhaka, Bangladesh.

I met Etienne in Hoi An, on a photography tour he had hosted, eight months earlier. Four days of travel through beautiful Vietnamese landscapes, meeting and interacting with the locals and taking pictures from dusk to dawn was right up my alley. 

I had an amazing time and Etienne and I became instant buddies. “Aron, with your style of shooting, you HAVE to come with me on my tour to Bangladesh.  It’s the Mecca for street photographers. You will LOVE it!”

My interests was piqued. Just prior to Hoi An, I had spent a week in Delhi (see pictures here) and fell in love with the Indian sub-continent and all its diverse cultures. I was anxious to shoot that area again. I had some vacation days I needed to burn anyway so I booked and I waited.

News of my upcoming trip had made the rounds and I was suddenly bombarded by horrific stories of robberies, kidnappings and anecdotes of tourists waking up in ice baths without their vital organs. I was honestly nervous, but alas, my deposit was paid, new camera gear had been purchased, and the taste of adventure on my lips…

I landed in the middle of a cool November night, grateful that the thick darkness hid me from the murderers and thieves that were out to lie, cheat and steal my expensive camera gear and get my slightly used kidneys. I quickly jumped into a taxi and briefly felt safer but soon found myself leaving finger imprints on the patched upholstery as my driver attempted to beat some land speed record in heavy traffic.  Relieved to arrive alive and eager to wash out my soiled underwear, I checked in at the clean but rundown hotel, made sure that the room door was locked…. twice, and succumbed to a restless, nervous sleep.

“Ahuuuuuuuuuuu aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrr”

I was jolted awake. A haunting, ancient, eerie sound drifted in on the humid air; echoing on the tail end of my restless sleep.  It was pitch black.  It took me a full second to get my bearings- an eternity when you are terrified.

“Allahuuuuuuuuuuu aaaaaakbarrrrrrrrrr”

As I adjusted to the darkness, the low, guttural chanting continued- prehistoric, mesmerizing, and powerful, even at a whisper. The Muezzin’s call to prayer… we weren’t in Kansas anymore Toto…

 

Three other photographers, Etienne and I gathered for our pre-dawn breakfast. I was exhausted, and not really in the mood for small talk.  “Where are you from?” “Are you shooting with Nikon or Canon?” “What lenses did you bring?” The usual photography banter ensued. I stared at my overcooked scrambled eggs, too nervous really to eat. “Should I bring all of my gear with me? Will it make me a bigger target?” “Bring my passport just in case? Leave it at the hotel?” These questions danced silently in my head.

An emailed itinerary had been provided to us days before, but being one for surprises I decided to not look at it, and what did it matter anyway? I’d probably be dead before lunch. 

Having decided to take everything, 2 camera bodies (an Olympus and a Sony for you camera nerds) and 4 lenses, I looked like I was about to stage a coup.   We walked outside and, there, idling at the side of the road, was a fully caged tuk-tuk, a rolling chariot of death.  Our fixer, sensing my fear, mentioned, “It’s fully enclosed, as a deterrent for thieves.” But, he didn’t fool me.  Being of amazing imagination and now an expert in “One-Million-Ways-to-Die-in-Bangladesh”, I knew it was actually to trap you in and turn you into human BBQ.

The tuk-tuk ride seemed much longer than it actually was.  I was sweating despite the cool morning air.  My head was on a swivel, scanning for shifty eyed, tattooed laden thugs.  Gratefully, we finally arrived, alive, on the banks of the Buriganga River in old-town Sadarghat.  I happily jumped out of the prison trike, neck muscles still taught.  We were lead to the water front as the sky turned from pitch black to a beautiful rose color. Street vendors began to unpack their wares as the ferries and canoes started their slow choreographed dance from bank to bank.  We sprang into action.  The scenery was so foreign to me yet I knew exactly how to move around it to capture its essence.  Like headless chickens we ran around, jumping from pier, to shore, to docked boat, trying to find the best angles of the amazing scenes that unfolded before us.  All the while, Etienne shouted instructions and reminders at us in his non-condescending French accent. “Zon’t fourget to layeerrr zor shotz!” “Separrette zor subjects!” “Fucus on ze light!”

My adrenaline was pumping. It’s only in moments like this that I truly feel happy and alive.

I accepted the street vendor’s chai (HYPER- sweet black tea leaves with milk and spices) not because I was thirsty or needed the jolt of caffeine, but because I wanted to complete the five of the human senses and physically absorb the “taste” of this exotic culture into my body.

The bony ferryman slowly rowed us to the south-side of the river bank towards the now busy shipyard. 

Dozens of workers hung from precariously placed ropes and scaffolding, assembling and dismantling massive ships, using all type of primitive tools. Children in soot covered workshops, melted molten metal to make ship propellers using ancient smelting techniques.

The rhythmic clanging of stubborn metal, the rage of sparks from buzz saws and the toxic smell of welding, like metallic sour apples, bombarded our senses.  

The work conditions where harsh- men lifted 3 ton slabs of steel on their heads wearing nothing but their traditional lungi skirts and flip flops- not a hard hat in sight.

We continued to explore, walking the long maze-like, narrow alleyways and the congested dusty streets of Dhaka.  

Instead of threats and the insistent ask of money, I was hit by a repetitive friendly barrage of “Whasss yur name?” “Werree you fromm?” from every person that walked by.  I was met with smiles, not frowns.  And, to my delight, every jerry can of petrol was being used to fill a tank and not to pour on unwilling tourists.  My breath deepened, my jaw relaxed, and my shoulders softened. I was now in my element, I was now in Mecca.  That night I did not struggle for sleep.

Click HERE for Day 2: Human Ants and The Commuters
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International School of Kenya Newletter

I was recently honored with the opportunity to be featured in my high school’s newsletter.  While writing about myself I really got to relive some of the best years of my life.

  • Tell us a bit about yourself.

Hi! My name is Aron Schuftan and I graduated from ISK in 1993. I spent some of the most amazing years of my life in Kenya (1986-1993) and to this day still consider those years to be my best youth years. I currently live in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam. I moved here 6 years ago and am working as an Obstetrician and Gynecologist. However, I have recently taken a sabbatical from work to pursue my passion as a fine arts photographer.

  • What was your most memorable moment about being an ISK student?

I can still smell the sweet dew-covered coffee fields on the way to school, still taste the samosas and bhajias from Mrs. Maini, still hear the echoes of the basketballs bouncing in the MPB and still, to this day, cover my food when walking out in the open to protect myself from the kites swooping down to grab my food. I remember listening, in fascination, to Dr. Hinz’ lectures in biology (whom I greatly credit for me becoming a doctor), Mr. Halverson’s billowing voice in the beautiful classroom bungalows, and the long sad bus rides back into town after RVA (once again) beat us.  But most vivid in my memory, are the late nights of rehearsing for plays with Mr. Pearson (Little Shop of Horrors, The Insect Play, The Boyfriend….) for whom I will forever be grateful for teaching me some of the most important life lessons that I still carry with me to this day.

 

  • Congratulations on launching your photography website! What was the inspiration behind coming up with this phenomenal passion project?

My growing up in Kenya actually played a large part on why I started this project. Like so many of you Third Culture Kids, I am sure you always cringe when you hear the question “where are you from?”. This website is now a way to show people the many places that I am “from” and was designed to be almost like a diary of my life.  The images I show, accompanied with the stories I write, are a tribute to my life story through 6 continents and 45 countries….

Also, being an only-child I have always felt a weight of responsibility and duty to pass along my history and the history of my ancestors. I can remember avidly listening to the stories of my heritage, during family dinners, trying to commit them to memory and being so frustrated by only finding a handful of tattered old photos of eras gone by. I longed to be able to see what they saw, to help tell the stories; to make them more real; more visceral. The experience created in me an urge to document my own life, to immortalize my life to others, through the lens and the images I create. It is my hope that it can bring future generations closer to me. It was this desire that led me to take my first class in photography at Tulane University in New Orleans in the mid-1990’s where I was getting my degree in pre-medicine and sociology.

I developed my skills and found that I was able to tell stories with my pictures and it was a great way for me, a self-proclaimed introvert, to interact with people. It empowered and lifted me in a way a gambler must feel as he or she watches a ball tumbling on a roulette wheel.

My photography is a heartfelt diary of what I see, the moments I experienced, traveling to other countries and immersing myself in the culture, anywhere. As a “street photographer”, it is important to me to capture a moment, the feeling –without manipulating my subject or the environment. I try to be “a fly on the wall” and capture exactly what I see.  But at the same time, I try to capture the unusual or the ordinary, but in a new way.

For me, the art lies in the capture, not the later enhancement of an image. Photoshop has revolutionized photography, but being a purist, I shy away from post-production of my work. What you see is what I saw, unfiltered, raw and grabbing the energy of that exact moment. It is through my images, that my viewers can see and experience cultures, faraway lands and the emotions captured by my lens.

For me, not only is the image important, but also the title. I have always believed that the title of a photograph adds another dimension to the image. At times the title of the shot comes to me before I take the picture.

When possible, I always strive to find a title that makes my viewer think one-step beyond the image.

Currently, I am working as an Obstetrician and Gynecologist. Repeated I have been living in Vietnam since 2014, but have been coming to Vietnam since 1995 regularly since my parents moved here (and still live here). My mother is Vietnamese and my father was born and raised in Chile to German Jewish parents.  I spent my adolescence in Nairobi, Kenya, but have been fortunate to have lived all over the world including Cameroon, Spain, Puerto Rico, Chile and the US.

  • Any parting shot you’d like to share with current ISK students?

Here I am, almost 30 years later, reliving in full Technicolor, the amazing time I had at ISK. Yes, I’m sure ISK has changed a lot (the coffee plantation is gone?!?!), but the spirit of growing up and getting educated in such an environment surely lives on.  Many of you will go back to your home countries after graduation and undoubtedly feel “different” from your peers. But do not worry, this difference will only set you apart in a good way, make you more unique, more interesting, and more ready to conquer the world.

I hope going through my photos, especially the section on Africa, brings a bit of a smile to those who, like me, were touched so deeply by Kenya, and to those still there, I hope my photos makes you appreciate what you still get to experience daily.

I hope you enjoy looking at my pictures as much as I enjoyed taking them.

Once a Lion, always a Lion….

Best,

Aron

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Magazine d’Art De Saigon

A recent question and answer I did with Mads Monsen from Magazine d’Art De Saigon…

Could you share a little bit about your background and what you do for a living?

“MUTT”- My friends have called me this my whole life and to be honest- I don’t mind. My mother is Vietnamese and my father was born and raised in Chile to German parents. I spent my adolescence in Nairobi, Kenya, but have been fortunate to have lived all over the world including Cameroon, Spain, Puerto Rico, Chile and the US.  To be honest, these various clashing of cultures have never made me feel like an outsider- if anything, it made me feel always accepted wherever I went which I feel has translated into my life and my art.

I am a 44 years old doctor, specializing as an Obstetrician and Gynecologist at Family Medical Practice and American International Hospital.
I have been living in Vietnam for 5 years now, but have been coming to Vietnam regularly (first time I came here was 1986) since my parents relocated to Saigon from Kenya in 1995.  Besides photography, I love to travel, play
soccer with the Saigon Raiders, Saigon’s oldest expat team and I recently began playing the “Handpan”, a relative new instrument for me.

 How would you describe your Instagram wall?

My wall is an honest diary of what I see in my day-to-day, from the many countries/places I’ve been fortunate enough to have lived in and visited. (@aron_schuftan_photography)

As a “street photographer”, it is important to me to capture a moment, a feeling –without manipulating my subject or environment. I try to be “a fly on the wall” and capture exactly what I see.  But at the same time, I try to capture the unusual or the ordinary but in a new way.

How did you start? What was your inspiration?

I started taking pictures at an early age to document my travels, but really started getting into it while in college in New Orleans, when I was gifted my father’s antique Zeiss Ikon camera… its been a love affair ever since.

What are your favorite elements to use in your visuals?

I love to find repeating patterns and use natural “frames” in my images.  I also try to use wide-angle lenses and incorporate “leading lines” into my shots. I find both to be great tools to pull the viewer in and to capture as much of the subject’s environment- which I believe makes a better visual story.

For me, not only is the image important, but also the title. Often I have the title of the shot before I even take the picture- in essence the title makes my image.  I think it stems from the first picture I ever saw that “moved” me. It was a black and white photograph of a pair of feet by Annie Leibowitz and the title was “Pele”.  As an image alone perhaps not so special but with the added title, a whole new meaning evolved- a portrait of arguably the world’s most famous feet.  Since then I always strive to find a title that makes my viewer think one-step beyond the image.

Do you see social media as a tool to inspire or the other way around?

I believe it’s a double-edged sword –yes, the mass, instant, dissemination of information and images can help and inspire, but at the same time, I do believe we have crossed the line: it has bred a new generation of completely self-absorbed narcissists and given fame (and a platform) to the ridiculous and menial.  I mean, really, do we care what Kim Kardashian ate for breakfast? But I guess I may be the wrong person to ask; I am not exactly the social media demographic. Then again, social media got me this article so I guess it can’t be all bad, can it 🙂 ?

Who is your Instagram for?

Mostly for family and friends, but I do secretly admit that I enjoy getting likes from strangers around the world.

What do you hope viewers get from your work?

I hope my images allow my viewers to see and experience new places, a new culture and feel an emotion. This desire has often lead to me to capture moments that some of my audience find displeasing (eg:  my series of photos from a dog meat market in Hanoi). But to be honest, I appreciate the positive praise as much as negative comments. For me, the fact that my images cause a strong emotion (good or bad) is what I strive for as an artist.

What is challenging about Instagram?

Not only as relates to Instagram, but to social media in general: it is hard to get noticed as an artist and have your work really appreciated.  Today EVERYONE is a photographer and people’s attention span is shrinking. Also, with the advent of Photoshop, the nature of photography has changed –now it doesn’t matter so much how good you are at capturing a moment, but rather how good of a graphic designer you are. Some would say it is the “evolution of photography”, or “it’s what we used to do in the dark room”. But for me, as a purist, I try to do no post production of my work (no cropping, no Photoshop), so I don’t buy it. I believe, the art is in the capture, not later in front of a computer. What you see in my pictures is what I saw, when I saw it.  But then again, as this is a hobby for me, I have the benefit of making that decision. I totally understand (and sympathize) with my professional photographer friends whose clients want a perfect image and they don’t care if you got it on your first shot or after 10 hrs manipulating it on a computer screen.

Looking back at when you started, how much has your style evolved and how?

As I look back through my photos I can see different phases that I went through. Abstract, architecture, fashion, nature- having only done photography as a hobby, I have had the freedom to take pictures of anything I want.  But I find that what currently inspires me is the people of Vietnam: I shoot mostly children and the elderly. I find “innocence” and  “wisdom” interesting subject matters.  In any case, I always try to incorporate visual elements in my shots that tell a story and are not just “pretty” pictures.

What are some of your favorite instagram accounts to follow? ?

I love National Geographic’s Instagram (and to be honest am jealous of it).  It would be my dream come true to work for them (if anyone can introduce me I would appreciate it!).  But I am also a big fan of Justin Mott’s work (@askmott) who was a fellow contestant/judge of mine in “Photo Face Off” –a photography reality show on History Channel that I was lucky to be a part of.

What can we expect to see on your Instagram in the future?

Hopefully more of the same, but better…

#AronSchuftanPhotography #NationalGeographic #StreetPhotography #Traveller #ThirdCultureKid