They are different, and besides, the eyes are turned in themselves, they are what they do, they radiate. They are alone in the world. Hillel Winograd mixes with their singular history. He waits on tiptoe, he dances in expectation, he kneels. The time of a pose. He captures the snapshot of a moving, moving Paris. He captures the enchantment of the meeting with the intimate, the meeting with the tiny, the meeting with the unnoticed of the other.
The gleaner of ideal Hillel Winograd is a photographer. The man is marginal. He stands at the edge of the world, in perpetual search for balance. He never stood in the evidence of speech. It is silently and quietly that he considers reality. He waits for his turn, surrounded by a grace that emanates from him. He gleans the precious moment, the slightest detail where the splendor of life shines through. He says, “Making a photo is like catching the ideal.” He holds to life, and he sticks to it. Shooting is an essential link to others, a necessity to stay upright, alive, alert.
