A haze hangs like velvet where daylight just died,
And the lens on the table still hums like a lie.
The model’s half laughing, the lights start to fade,
But the Fuji stays sharp in the world it unmade.
You focus, you wait, you forget what you knew.
It gives you what’s there and it steals what is true.
The background dissolves like a dream on the run,
And the face in the frame stares straight at the sun.And these portraits I’m taking, they don’t really matter.
Just pixels and breath and some photographic chatter.
Each image a window that nobody owns,
Where shadows fall soft and the silence just drones.
And inside this moment, too quiet to name,
The bokeh spins stories too soft to blame.But still in the margins, behind every shot,
It’s Johanna I see, though I know she is not.
Not part of the frame, not caught in the light,
She moves like a ghost just beyond the bite.
This lens draws the world into focus and flame,
But Johanna remains just outside the frame.
How many faces must a lens lay bare
Before they no longer pretend?
How much light must fall through the glass
Before the blur will bend?
Yes, and how many truths can a single frame hold
Before you stop needing to defend?
The answer, my friend, is drawn in the light
The answer is drawn in the light.How many miles can a portrait reveal
With no motion, no sound, no spin?
How far must the background recede
Before the soul steps in?
Yes, and how many times must a shutter fall
Before it lets the story begin?
The answer, my friend, is drawn in the light
The answer is drawn in the light.
The light was low in the old back room where the singer posed in gray,
And the lens was locked on the Fuji mount in that gentle kind of way.
The f/2 glass was wide and clear, and the shutter barely stirred,
While the makeup girl and the lighting tech didn’t say a single word.It was Chili with the medium frame and the Rollei in his coat,
He said “This lens’ll see right through you, past your smile and your note.”
And Rosemary, she glanced away as the shutter made its mark,
The background fell like autumn leaves, the eyes lit up the dark.There was truth in that compression, there was silk around the edge,
The image floated soft as smoke from a gambler on a ledge.
And somewhere past the histogram and the bokeh smooth as art,
The soul came up in tack-sharp focus, like the Jack of Hearts.
Fuji in the bag, lens cap loose,
110 f/2, cuttin’ like a noose,
Fast glass, wide pass, no flash, just class,
Don’t blink, don’t move, background’s glass.Click quick, tight grip, focus like a trip,
Eye sharp, skin soft, world doin’ the dip.
Faces pop, scene drop, edge like a knife,
One frame, no game, whole damn life.Can’t fake it, don’t shake it,
Shoot it raw, just take it.
Don’t need a reason, don’t need a plan,
It sees who you are, not who you ran.Medium’s big, sensor’s mean,
Depth so deep it splits the scene,
Bokeh’s meltin’ like plastic in June,
Truth in your face, lie outta tune.Fuji’s talkin’ in a whisper tone.
Better get sharp or shoot alone.
Seems like I once heard someone say
This lens would see right through the day,
That it would hold a face like prayer
And drop the rest to softened air.
And I believed, the way you do
When things are new and mostly true.
But now I’ve seen what light can’t hold,
And how the sharpest glass grows cold.The focus falls, the shutter sighs,
Another frame, another try.
And every time I think I’ve learned,
The picture lies, the world is turned.
You get one chance, you shoot, you wait,
And everything’s decided late.
It doesn’t speak, it draws instead.
The things you meant, the things you said.And now the face is crystal clear,
But what it meant ain’t anywhere.
I used to think this lens was heard.
But light is just another word.
You’ve got a lotta nerve to call that other lens a portrait king
You talk about compression, but you don’t know a goddamn thing
You said sharpness doesn’t matter, and “creamy” is just a word
But I’ve seen what this Fuji draws, and brother, it’s absurdYou said f/2 was overkill, that full-frame’s close enough
While I was pulling tones from shadows and making magic outta rough
You laughed at the price tag, said it wasn’t worth the size
While my backgrounds turned to butter and my subjects looked aliveI know you wish you shot with it, you wish you had the nerve
To twist that mount, admit you’re wrong, and get what you deserve
But no, you’d rather pixel-peep and talk your empty game
While this lens keeps on delivering and you fade out of the frameSo take your zoom and filters, take your presets and your pride
I’ll be over here with Fuji glass and truth you couldn’t hide
You don’t need to like it, man, you never understood
The 110 doesn’t flatter. It just makes you look that good.
Stefan Mokrzecki says
Brilliant!