hair in her eyes

 

Gimme a head with hair, long beautiful hair
Shining, gleaming, steaming, flaxen, waxen
Give me down to there, hair!
Shoulder length, longer (hair!)
Here baby, there mama, Everywhere daddy daddy

Hair, hair, hair, hair, hair
Flow it, Show it;
Long as God can grow it, My Hair!

Let it fly in the breeze and get caught in the trees
Give a home to the fleas in my hair
A home for fleas, a hive for bees
A nest for birds, there ain’t no words
For the beauty, the splendor, the wonder of my

Hair!

~from the musical “Hair”

 

Hair is such an issue in portraiture. Actually it seems to be a pretty big deal in life in general. The length of it…….the lack of it…….the particular shade of it……..the momentous battle against split ends and frizzies. We judge people based on their hair. We spend an inordinate amount of time and money on keeping our own hair looking good, and when it doesn’t it can really ruin our day. What does all this say about us I wonder? Did our prehistoric ancestors have such concern for their own and others’ locks? Is good hair one of the key ingredients to happiness? Do blondes really have more fun? Hmmm.

The amount of images that I’ve shot that were not purchased due to some imagined hair infraction has got to be staggering. Too flat hair, too frizzy hair, too fly-away hair, hair in the eyes……these things cost me dearly. You’d think I’d take more care to avoid bad hair scenarios if at all possible. But I guess I happen to like a bit of tousled hair, hair that doesn’t always behave, hair that responds to both the breeze and the human touch. It feels more intimate to me, more approachable, and of course more natural. Don’t even get me started on those great big hair-restraining bows!

I’d worked so long and hard to get relaxed and non-cheesy expressions from this little girl that it was beginning to feel like an impossibility. Finally I believed we were getting close to something real, I was even whispering quietly “let go, let go, let go”, I wanted it so badly. And just as I was anticipating the moment, reaching for more, a breeze sauntered in, picked up a clump of her hair and blew it across her face. I took two shots and then reached over to brush the hair off her face with my hand. Her expression immediately returned to goofy, and the moment had passed along with the breeze.

Hair in her eyes ruined the image for the mom. I suppose a smarter photographer would know better, would take the time to remove that hair in photoshop and present a cleaner portrait. But I don’t know, the breeze was a part of that moment for me, and I like the awareness of its wonderful energy by observing the hair moving across her eyes.

~Cynthia