Sightless man takes photos using sounds, mind's eye

VILNIUS, Lithuania -- Remigijus Audiejaitis is a photographer with little use for the intricacies of the craft.

When he shoots a picture there's no concern about lighting or whether the f-stop is correct. What's important to him is the sound his subjects make, whether it's the laugh of a shop girl or the backfiring of a muffler on the city streets or the clinking of coffee mugs.

Audiejaitis, a photographer for four years, couldn't adjust for poor lighting. He's been blind since birth.

"I take my automatic camera out when I hear something interesting happening around me," the 30-year-old photographer said.

Despite the obvious shortcoming, Audiejaitis's lack of sight has not dampened his desire to take photos. He uses a Kodak Advantix 2000 he purchased a while ago. It's fully automatic, so there's no concern about being out of focus.

Instead of the viewfinder, he uses the mind's eye to gauge what he hears and then decides whether to shoot or not.

"I picture rich sounds and my friends develop the film and sort the best images," he said.

Audiejaitis, who is studying Japanese at Vilnius University, has staged several exhibitions here, drawing more than just the curious to see the pictures.

Those images focus on the daily life of Vilnius, a 700-year-old city rich with tradition and a deft blend of the old and new: rattling old cars, shouting merchants, and snowplows scraping the pavement with huge shovels in winter.

The soft-spoken, lanky Lithuanian constantly seeks out new soundscapes. At the moment, he's intrigued by the idea of photographing street brawls.

"That must be very noisy and vivid, changing every second. It would be easy to get a nice shot," he said, a grin curling his lips. "Dangerous, but extremely interesting."

Audiejaitis knows the streets of Vilnius' Old Town by their sounds.

"Every corner here has different acoustics. I never get lost here," he said, walking at a brisk clip through the complex grounds of the University's campus.

Despite not having sight, his hearing is attuned to the slightest change.

The sound of a woman laughing brings him to a screeching stop.

A white walking stick in his right hand, Audiejaitis takes out his Kodak with his left hand and points it in the direction of the girl's peals. He fires off four shots before putting the camera down.

"I don't take too many pictures. The sixth sense tells me when to use the camera," he said.