Music in motion

Sometime ago, I was on assigment for OK! Magazine. I shot a Flamenco dancer as he performed in Dubai Media City. He was music in motion. I never thought a man dancing could mesmerize me so, but it did, and boy, did it ever!

When I came home and looked at my pictures, I smiled at the serendipity of it.



Three years ago, I had sat in the grass in London on a quiet summer afternoon. The workshop instructor having given us a half hour off for lunch, a few of us lingered on the green, soaking up some sun. I sat next to a Spaniard: the charming Gabino Carballo.

I related to him my fantasies about Spain: a counrty that has always held the most romantic of connotations for me. Gaby said to me that if I had not seen the great Joaquin dance, I had seen nothing of Spain.

"Where can I see Joaquin?" I asked. Gaby smiled. "You don't go to Joaquin. Joaquin comes to you."

That was all he said, and that was all I heard and we moved on to talking of other things.

And here I was today ... I had seen Joaquin Cortes.

Gaby was right.