Focusing on the wound

“The camera’s cruel eye behind the dark frame”

At last, the cruel eye of the camera, hidden behind the dark frame, is about to be revealed to real eyes that recognize reality. Romanticism isn’t just about what is explicitly shown—it’s about what lies beneath. What you get isn’t always what you expect.

In photography, every shot is a blend of your emotions and the story you want to tell. The lens becomes the deciding factor, whether it captures moments filled with dopamine or the subtle shading of romanticism. The angles and compositions determine whether it’s blaze or just meaningless chaos simulate as art.

My photography skills, however, aren’t refined by modern lighting techniques or advanced tactics. I’ve faced rejection from several companies, and every time I attend an interview, the inevitable questions arise: “Which lens do you use?” and “What has been your experience with it?”

My emotional connection to the lens and the art of photography always seems to interfere with my answers. I stumble, unable to convey what drives me, and the result is the same—I’m rejected every time.

My experience with interviews was as repetitive as watching interviewers interact with one another across the same desk. The routine remained unchanged—wake up at 7 o’clock, attend an interview, face rejection by midday, and return home to sit in front of the TV and watch my favorite shows.

Last weekend, as I sat watching one of those shows, I received a text from a friend: “David, it’s been a long wait for a job. Just go for this interview.”

Curious, I opened the link they sent. To my surprise, it was for a photography position in the adult industry, along with the dates for the interview. The message felt absurd at first—yes, definitely crazy. But at that moment, what didn’t seem crazy to me was the realization that, once again, the lens would decide everything—not just their fate, but mine too.

I finally decided to go for the interview. To no surprise, they asked me the same questions I’d been asked in every other interview. And just as predictably, I gave the same answers that had led to countless rejections before.

“The crazy thing was when inside the adult industry I felt that I am trapped in a camera lens. The actors were supposed to laugh even if they don’t want to laugh; they were supposed to romanticize things even if it’s not in the domain of romanticism. Whenever the shot would be done the guilty, shame, and regret shaped their faces. The pain which seen on their face you can’t assume. They are trapped in the multi-dimensional story of dopamine. They can’t go outside; they can’t leave the industry even if they want to. This not due to their addiction majority of them came here coincidently like me with this camera story here. I loved photography and it changed into explicate things. I was supposed to capture the nature outside some good shots probably could have make my life batter but it’s not that I came here and now shooting this legendry scripted stories of modern day lavish morality’s romanticism.

Everything here is defined. The title is decided according to the bodies not according to the faces not even accordingly to the real acting. Scenes are created is it if you are really in some kind of dirty romance. To be frank this industry is manufacturing such things and designing which would probably make you what you watch. If you watch some kind of non-sense so probably you are gonna do that   non-sense.   

Your dopamine is decided by a writer here and the director decides which title suits the script, camera shots and bodies, not, faces, beauty, age and other things. Moreover a set also decide your psychology.

Don’t look at those comfortable scenes and beds they are decide by the director and manager with purpose and planning.

However there is one thing which never been noticed here but today my camera is going to make sure that one wound.

The faces of actors are so painful. When they smile, the pain reflects from their teeth. When they weep, the tears do not support them in showing their feelings inside. Every part of their faces defines their pain, but the explicit reality hides it, where dopamine overtakes everything. They have lives and standards as we do, but what makes us different is this explicit reality that they are not humans—but they are.

They have carried pain since their starting days, but what makes them different from us is their lavish morality. Modern-day access to adult industry products has transferred this lavish morality through a single screen, for which we all should accept that we are doing the same as they are. But one basic thing that makes the difference is the way of performance for pleasure and satisfaction.

What I can do is accept: “We did the same as they did.” I can feel the pain, but the ultimate reality is that I should accept these traumatic faces, capture them without any help, and think about what I can do to make myself different in terms of morality.

A photographer’s journey from chasing natural beauty to capturing the hidden pain inside the adult industry. David’s camera lens exposes not pleasure, but the suffering masked behind staged scenes and false smiles. His story challenges perceptions of morality and asks us to reconsider what we see—and what we ignore—on our screens.

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This post tells the story of David, an aspiring photographer whose love for capturing nature led him into the adult film industry. Trapped behind the lens, he reveals the hidden side of this world—not the glamour people assume, but the pain etched into the faces of the actors forced to perform scripted pleasure. David describes how the industry manufactures dopamine-driven scenes, stripping human emotions down to marketable shots. Through his camera, he uncovers the silent suffering behind staged smiles and asks whether society itself is any different. This is his reflection on morality, pain, and the false romanticism created by the modern adult industry.