Magna Taco Time
On a cold, grey November day in Utah, my wife and I were trying out a new camera. We stopped at a fast food place for lunch and were the only ones in the restaurant except for a young girl withdrawn into herself and silently weeping.
The ksar or fortified village of Aït Benhaddou is built earthen clay where individual buildings are linked via walkways and covered passageways. As I entered one of these passageways, a young girl modestly withdrew so that I might pass without brushing by her.
Sour Face, Areco
This street portrait was taken in a regional market town about 50 miles from Buenos Aires. This lady was not comfortable being photographed and with her withering look was attempting to get us to withdraw from the street and leave it to those to whom it belonged.
Truck Driver, Buenos Aires
Street side deliveries are commonplace in Buenos Aires. It is a vibrant place with some of the attitude of New York City. This truck driver was trying to make a delivery and my presence was obviously blocking him. While his body was withdrawn into the shadows, his outstretched arm conveyed his rather urgent message.
Clio at Wolf Creek Pass
In the upper bunk of a Volkswagen camper, the young daughter of friends had withdrawn from the moment and was thinking her own thoughts:
There are things of which I may not speak;
There are dreams that cannot die;
There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak,
And bring a pallor into the cheek,
And a mist before the eye.
And the words of that fatal song
Come over me like a chill:
"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
• Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Deva at Mortuary
This is the ultimate withdrawal. This photo was taken in a mortuary in Salt Lake City. Deva had recently died of AIDS and a group of people gathered to prepare the body.
Pensive Smoker, Jaipur
This gentleman was seated at a gateway into a busy marketplace. He had withdrawn from the hustle and bustle and was meditatively smoking.
This was taken at the Pompidou Museum in Paris. There was a small, isolated bench were this gentleman had withdrawn to be with his own thoughts. He is looking at a passport which might have belonged to his son, a friend or lover, or an earlier version of himself. The photo is taken through glass with multiple reflections compounding the gentleman’s sense of isolation.
Kip Harris grew up in a small farming community in Idaho. He holds degrees in English literature from Dartmouth College, in humanities from the University of Chicago, and architecture from the University of Utah. He was a principal of FFKR Architects in Salt Lake City for nearly 30 years.
A serious photographer since the late 80s, he has exhibited in the United States, Canada, Australia, and Europe with four solo and over one hundred group shows. He has been published in Shots Magazine, The Photo Review, Art Reveal, Smithsonian.com, Street Photography Magazine, Barren Magazine, Tagree, Square, Black and White (cover) and a number of on-line photographic sites.