He can make wrists move like moths and feet become butterflies. Once on a visit here the Bolshoi brought the ballet Spartacus. Sonbol's photo machinery made the spectacular dancer who impersonated the Roman noble Crassus into action so sharp that when the star soared aloft, Sonbol's camera turned him into a Catherine wheel bent back into a circle of flame. Photographers themselves are exotic, subjective, nostalgic-historical. Coloured black or blue, they are like chameleons.
Photographs haunt our lives.
Their creators can be glizzy paparazzi who only do heads of state or world cup heroes at St Tropez. And there are pic specialists for death, destruction, gang warfare and couture. They cover the world. When the Hindenburg airship blew up and blazed away like a molten bratwurst there was of course a photographer there to catch the molten mess. As a species, photographers are much maligned.