Flower Moon: Hair Salon Photography
**Being a Hair Stylist in the Modern Era : A Mirror's Soliloquy** The chair swivels beneath the weight of yet another soul, another head full of tangled thoughts and dormant dreams. The wax specialist in the corner making friends. They sit before me, the client, eyes vacant, gazing into the mirror as though it might return a piece of them long misplaced. I, the hair stylist, stand behind the glass, wielding my scissors like a poet with her pen, seeking to carve order from the chaos that grows from their roots. It is a strange craft, one of transformation, though sometimes I wonder if it’s anything more than the futile dressing of a wound that refuses to heal. There are friends hair salons down the street on Main. In the modern world, hair has become more than mere strands of keratin sprouting from the scalp. It is identity, rebellion, seduction, conformity. A silent scream twisted into a braid, a cry for freedom in a pixie cut , or perhaps, more often, the desi...
