Please note: This is not intended for judgement and is NOT part of my entry into the Jason Edwards Scholarship.
I wrote 1200 words to accompany this gallery. I realized, It should be 1200 characters. It took me all day, so I may as well post it. It offers
Significance to my choice and subjects.
My name is Dale Alexander Bremner,
I am currently bartending. I’m petrified it has stolen my soul, but I’m too numb to notice. I want a career. I comprehend my skills need further nourishment, and I am hungry.
I could give 10,000 words, why I am perfect for this incredible opportunity. I’m compelled to inspire myself by inspiring others, but I believe action inspires, not words.
With this in mind, I will tell the story behind my images. The truth is, the images I seek out, hold stories far more compelling than my own.
July 2012. 25 miles off the west coast of Vietnam quietly sits Cu Lao Cham. More commonly known as Cham Island.
It’s main beach is bombarded daily by tourist’s. They are herded onto Cham’s sparkling white beaches, to temporally bask in its celestial calm and serenity. They frolic in the waters, fondle the food, then leave as metronome as they arrived.
I was vexed with the lack of interest regarding the island’s indigenous community. “Why would you want to stay out there?” the guide asked. “There’s no English spoken, no hotel’s, no shops and no electricity”
Insert something about paradise here please..
After hitching a ride with a scuba group, my feet felt the nourishing submersion of crystal water, gently lapping at my calves in a ‘welcome, come in’ notion. I was on Cham Island. I stepped onto the beach and learnt to fire walk, as the sand itself was a blissful 188 degrees and I had departed from my shoes weeks before. Embracing shade from the nearest post card palm tree, I endeavored up a path into the dense forest, once again, away from the flock.
I was in search of escapism. In search of a shot that would make this all worth while. I was in search of being in search. And shade.
Eventually, I paused, gazing down upon the remote and quant fishing village of Bai Huong. The path stretched across the sparkling waterfront, past a hand full of weathered jetty’s, sprinkled with traditional wooden boats and fishing nets. There was not an advertisement to be seen.
The only smile bigger than the one I was receiving, was the one I was giving. I was meet in a relaxed manner with warmth, enthusiasm, and curiosity. I took a portrait of everyone I met, searching for someone who spoke some English. Body language is essential to making your subject comfortable, and never more so than this situation.
Too much relief from my combined cocktail of backpack, bare feet and the scorching sun, I encountered a lady who spoke very basic English. I successfully negotiated to sleep under the stars on her roof, over looking the main stretch of waterfront. The view was tantric to say the least.
I ditched my gear, (never feeling safer to do so) and spent the entire afternoon drifting through the village. Connecting, meeting, shooting and engaging with the locals. I also had the distinct pleasure of being attacked by wild turkeys.
To be a vulnerable individual, deeply submersed in such a simple and vastly different culture was remarkably refreshing. I ended up in a game of soccer, on a patchy field with a semi-inflated ball. As insanely cliché as it sounds, it was incredible.
As the fading light kissed across the glass of the bay, escorted by the wild turkeys, I returned to the house, only having an hour or so to charge my batteries.
(Generators power the island for roughly one hour a day, late in the afternoon. Then all power switches off, and Bai Huong goes into an early and peaceful slumber.)
By 8pm the moon struck waterfront and jetty’s were lined with fishermen sleeping on hammocks and stretchers. With envy, I captured truly peaceful people, peacefully pondering under a starry sky. Void and liberated of all the materialistic distractions and pollutants I hypocritically despise in my corner of the world.
As early as the village sleeps, it wakes. By 5am the entire village was up and active, and by sun rise, the harbor was dancing with boats.
I emerged to a gathering of locals keen to see the one who had spent the night. They shouted me fresh fish and warm beer to wash it down. I felt so accepted as I sat with them all morning, laughing and snapping away, never really getting further than learning each others names. Ironically, there was not a single moment of uncomfortable silence.
To top the morning off, I got one of the men, to show me how he fishes off his raft.
It’s an incredibly humbling feeling knowing those, with such few possessions, can live harmoniously, with authentic contentment, free and foregone, something vastly vapid in the modern western world.
After quitting my job to obtain the time to travel, breaking up with the perfect girl, searching across 7 countries in 7 weeks, I found myself completely off the grid.
And sitting on a villagers tiny textured boat, in the sleepy bay of a remote fishing community off the coast of Vietnam, learning how to cast a net, I answered a question..
Am I dreaming? No. This is it.
This is me. This is what I need.
I need to do this because I love it. And It all comes down to that.
I would love a career shooting for Nat Geo. It would simply be, a dream come true.
