World Press Photo 10

I wrote this on Sunday night, but did not get to post it until today....
So I just came home to my cozy Museumplein apartment after attending the World Press Photo 10 Awards Ceremony at the Muziekgebouw aan't IJ in Amsterdam. I thought I was going to the photography show of the same name. No! This was like the Academy Awards of photo journalism. The event has not left me star-struck, because I didn't recognize any of the photographers' faces or names. But as I was watching the images move across the bigger than movie theater size screen, my mind did what it does when I look at art: I became emotionally and spiritually involved - invested, more like. My mind was immediately lifted onto a higher, artistic plane. The no-talent me sat in the the chair, while my wanna-be-an-artist spirit was lifted higher and higher. Suddenly I was thinking in aesthetics, and composition. Lighting and perspective were considered, appreciated, and rethought. I could place myself simultaneously in the mind of the photographer and the photographed. I was especially moved by the portraits. The eyes of the anorexic boy from the UK, the lost look in the face of the girl who suffered from gender identity issues, the naked woman sprawled out on the rumpled, white sheeted-bed looking directly at the camera with a challenge more than a request. Then there was the Slaughter House series by an Italian photographer; these images contained almost ballet-like poses of blood stained floors, animals hanging from meat hooks and severed heads and the executioner's bloodied apron, gloves and boots. These photographs are fragments of a second of time frozen in suspended dissonance, yet harmonious in their ability to create thought by the viewer. For the first time I was not frustrated about not having the talent to create a photo or painting of genius, but I felt lifted, like an uber-artist. enough to begin this blog.
Here it is. Let's see where it will take me.