A fictional parable by Peter Pickering.
In the stillness of morning, the mist curling like incense along the alleyways, Sensei Kagemori poured tea into two small cups. He sat cross-legged on the wooden floor, eyes half-lidded, and gestured for Grasshopper to sit.
“Sensei,” said Grasshopper, “why do we shoot in black and white, when the world is full of colour?”
Kagemori exhaled slowly. “Ah… colour can be a magnificent distraction. Sometimes it catches the eye before the moment has had a chance to speak.”
He sipped. The silence stretched.
“In colour,” he said finally, “a red umbrella becomes the story. In black and white, the gesture, the moment, the emotion—they become the story.”
Grasshopper tilted his head. “So… we remove the noise?”
“Just so,” said the Sensei. “We strip the flesh to find the bone. The rhythm of the street, the lines of shadow and sun, the echo of a glance—all become clear when freed from colour’s insistence.”
“But is it not limiting?”
“No.” He tapped the rim of his teacup. “It is freeing. You see beyond the surface. In monochrome, we do not photograph clothes—we photograph souls.”
Grasshopper’s eyes widened.
Sensei smiled. “Now go. Take your camera. Forget red, forget green. Chase light. Find truth. Come back with silence captured.”
Lesson of the Day:
Colour pleases the eye. Black and white speaks to the spirit.
