And this was me with yoga photography — a serendipitous journey propelled by Covid.
It was spring 2020 in Hong Kong and we couldn’t hang out with friends due to the stringent social distancing measures in the city.
Craving for human touch and a creative outlet, I started photographing yoga instructor friends in nature when we hung out outdoors.
I started seeing parallels between the human body and the landscape — the curves of my friend’s profile and the ridges of the mountains in the background. I also realised yoga is very much inspired by the nature: eagle arms, downward facing dog, mountain pose, half moon… just to name a few yoga asanas named after natural elements and animals.
While practising hip-opening stretches to the sound of waves after a photo session with my friend, it occurred to me that it made sense to photograph yoga in nature.
As a yoga student, my understanding of yoga asanas help me to guide clients into a pose with correct alignment and find locations that match with the purpose of poses.
I started photographing other types of movement after photographing a few yogis. When we photograph yoga asanas, it’s often about the best version of a particular asana that a yogi can attain and only one photo out of the many shots would be used. I began wondering what it would be like to capture dance, a series of movement which can be fascinating when viewed individually and also continuously.
I wasn’t doing videos of dance, which I imagine would be like fully transcribing a sentence. With photography, the question becomes — How can I best represent the spirit of the movement? How do I know which shot to pick? If I only chose one shot out of a series of ten moves, was I selecting just one phrase out of a sentence? Or perhaps photography of movement is closer to poetry, a half-remembered dream?
So movement continues to amaze me. And I’m always impressed by the dedication yogis, dancers and trainers have towards their practices.
And this was me with yoga photography — a serendipitous journey propelled by Covid.
It was spring 2020 in Hong Kong and we couldn’t hang out with friends due to the stringent social distancing measures in the city.
Craving for human touch and a creative outlet, I started photographing yoga instructor friends in nature when we hung out outdoors.
I started seeing parallels between the human body and the landscape — the curves of my friend’s profile and the ridges of the mountains in the background. I also realised yoga is very much inspired by the nature: eagle arms, downward facing dog, mountain pose, half moon… just to name a few yoga asanas named after natural elements and animals.
While practising hip-opening stretches to the sound of waves after a photo session with my friend, it occurred to me that it made sense to photograph yoga in nature.
As a yoga student, my understanding of yoga asanas help me to guide clients into a pose with correct alignment and find locations that match with the purpose of poses.
I started photographing other types of movement after photographing a few yogis. When we photograph yoga asanas, it’s often about the best version of a particular asana that a yogi can attain and only one photo out of the many shots would be used. I began wondering what it would be like to capture dance, a series of movement which can be fascinating when viewed individually and also continuously.
I wasn’t doing videos of dance, which I imagine would be like fully transcribing a sentence. With photography, the question becomes — How can I best represent the spirit of the movement? How do I know which shot to pick? If I only chose one shot out of a series of ten moves, was I selecting just one phrase out of a sentence? Or perhaps photography of movement is closer to poetry, a half-remembered dream?
So movement continues to amaze me. And I’m always impressed by the dedication yogis, dancers and trainers have towards their practices.
