Black and White Pictures

Image via Wikipedia

The other day on a whim I walked into a gallery where a new showing was on. The title card at the entrance announced that it was the photographer’s first show and that it was called ‘A Metropolis in Black and White’.

My interest peaked and I walked in. there weren’t many people which was just fine. Crowds don’t suit me very well. The few people that were there walked around silently in pairs, studying the brochure till they stopped in front of a display. They remarked at it, pointed here and there and said something about the photographer, sparing him a glance before moving on. The photographer himself stood nervously to one side occasionally trying to make sense of people’s reactions but spent most of his time staring at the floor.

It took me a while to realize that I was just standing there watching everyone else instead of actually looking at the pictures. Embarrassed I quickly stepped in front of the nearest display, unconsciously crushing my brochure whilst praying no one noticed.

The displays were rather good they captured city life well, and from the bits of conversation that came my way I wasn’t the only one who thought so. But as I walked past the first row something about them made me think. Sure there were no vibrant blues or greens nor reds or yellows but to be honest I didn’t really see any black or white either. All I saw was about ten different shades of grey. Not that it was a bad thing, in fact they seemed better that way but that’s just my opinion.

There was one thing that really stood out though. The grey made everything look the same, with the exception of their shades of course. It was interesting to see that I could barely draw a line between the sky and the ground that familiar buildings looked like nothing more than grey blocks and the people, in was almost impossible to tell them apart.

Those pictures told a completely different story of the city, then again they showed us what we’ve always seen in a way we’ve never seen before. Its’ funny how quickly we paint things black or white, judging them as good or bad; how we look but don’t really see anything that lies beneath the surface. When all along it’s been as clear as day, beneath those vibrant colours nothing is ever black or white, just a million shades of grey.

And as I left, it dawned on; it probably wasn’t just the pictures I was thinking about.

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