NOVA'S FABLES (short stories - work in progress)

Growing up, I was an enthusiastic reader of the Aesopica. These were the collection of fables and short stories associated with a storyteller in ancient Greece whose identity is yet to be explicitly determined. 

I particularly appreciated the social, political, and religious themes explored, not to mention the lessons and questions posed about ethics and morality. 

These photographs are visual short stories that look at the world through an abstract, reflective, and absurdist lens. 

Portraits, scenes, moods, and stolen split second glances create moments that encourage the viewer to wonder—just what is fiction? 

And what is fact?

CREDITS:

Concept / Photography: Adenike O. Akinbisehin

FINGERPRINTS (hand perspectives)

I had a random thought once that went something like this, "I wonder if it's possible to calculate how many fingerprints we leave in a lifetime?" 

Now while I'm still not sure if this is possible or not, I figured it wouldn't hurt to try my hand (no pun intended) at documenting these events. 

How many things have you touched since you got up this morning?

How many pets, fridges, faces, steering wheels, cutlery, computers, door handles, mobile phones?

How many handshakes?

How many people?

How many lives in some way, have you touched and have touched yours?

And are these fingerprints the lingering kind?

CREDITS:

Concept / Photography: Adenike O. Akinbisehin

SOLE TERRAIN (foot perspectives)

My mother and I love shoes, but not for the same reasons.

As a child I would hide under dining tables and stairwells to see if I could tell who had come to visit by the shoes they had on their feet.

Certain people showed up without shoes altogether, and that made it easy to guess after a while.

I developed a lot as a writer and observer then; going on to note nervousness, excitement, agitation, panic, playfulness, and distress—simply by observing people and what they did with their feet. 

You could tell who was wearing brand new shoes for the very first time, and which pairs were perusing the block for the hundredth—not only by the scuff and obvious signs of wear, but by the person's gait. 

I'd dream up stories of where these people were going and where they had been. If the shoes were originally theirs, passed down, or borrowed, and if they got insecure or not about whether their shoes were clean.

My mother and I agree that you could tell a lot about people by what they've got on their feet, but not for the same reasons, and we never reach the same conclusions.

CREDITS:

Concept / Photography: Adenike O. Akinbisehin