There is a fire in the soul that cannot be stolen, only doused with cruelty or dispassion. For too long, hunters and killers have tried to capture that fire and make it their own, but it is like stealing fire from the Gods, invisible, elusive, and something that dulls to distaste mocking our attempt to freeze life from death. So this series is a protest against those trophy heads on walls as they dry to dust. But through the lens, it seems those eyes light up and burn bright, a social contract between subject and photographer in place only as long as no harm is done, an agreement to respect and protect their right to flare up at us because they are wild and have wild eyes.
