John Lewell

Single Colour Dominating

by

I’ve always liked the idea of capturing a street scene in which buildings, cars and people happen to share the same colour. Likewise, I’m attracted to groups of people in the same coloured outfit, but where each person is asserting an individual personality by stance and gesture.

Why do I have this ambition? I guess it’s because I think it will say something, or at the very least will have a measure of artistic unity. A single colour can unify an image that would otherwise be ill-composed.

Yet, I have to confess, I’ve not fully achieved the perfect shot in which there’s a “single colour dominating.” Somewhere in the image another colour always intrudes — and I’m reluctant to stoop to using the hue control in my photo editor to change it.

A Little Garish
The main colour in my featured image (above) is a little garish. Indeed, I think it may even be “out of gamut” — as brilliant orange often is — if I were to make a print. For the uninitiated, “out of gamut” is what happens when you move an image from a large colour space to a smaller one. A typical example is when something in the photo lies outside the colour space of a typical CMYK printer. If you print it, you’ll get only an approximation, not what you see on the screen.

Even though here orange is the prevailing colour, two others signal their presence — the lime green bottle tops and the extraordinary shade of red used for the curved bench.

Name That Colour
Incidentally, while writing this blog I’ve found myself on several occasions attempting to look up the exact names of colours, rather than refer to them vaguely as “red,” “green” or “pink.” If you search Google Images for “colour names” you’ll find lots of useful charts which circulate around the design world. They’ll help you put a name to the colour, as Homer did with his “wine-dark sea.”

On this occasion I’ve looked at a dozen colour charts and cannot find a proper match, not even on the admirable Mental Floss Colour Thesaurus. Maybe this, too, is out of gamut. It seems to be a shade somewhere between Yahoo! Red and Flickr Pink.

Unless you photograph in black and white it’s a good thing to think frequently about colour — and even to fuss over it occasionally. Ask yourself: Can I live with a discordant mixture of colours, or do I want everything in the image to blend harmoniously together?

I think I get away with the glaring colour clashes in my image of the sales assistants on their drinks break. The one in “maximum orange” (No.10) is clearly the dominant figure. She’s the only one standing up — and among all of them is wearing the highest heels and seems to be confronting one of the others. The reddish-pink bench points towards her; and my own reflection — thankfully — is not too obvious as I was wearing my favourite blue shirt that day.

Vying for Dominance
Like people in the workplace, colours vie with each other for dominance. In my next image (below) blue and black vie for dominance, with green hovering in the background, calming them down and bringing them together. Taken from above (at the Thonglor Skytrain station in Bangkok) the image is skewed so the gardeners and the flags can fill the frame completely.

In the skewed image I’ve deliberately downplayed the individuality of the figures by hiding their faces. Yet their physicality is very much in evidence. Just by looking at them in the photo you can feel the action of using a stiff broom on concrete, or clipping the grass with the shears. In this sense, the picture is all about the “Sensation of Living,” as proclaimed by the banners for a nearby condo development (although I doubt if the new occupants will be clipping their own grass).

Green doesn’t always have to be a background colour. When there’s a surfeit of it you can make it the dominant theme of the image, as I do in the picture below.

Of all the colours I find green to be the most difficult to use in a photograph. It may even be one of the reasons why I turned away from landscape photography in favour of the non-green streets.

Search for “lawns” in Google Images and not a single photo looks wholly satisfactory. There are so many different shades of grass, all of which vary in their appearance according to the light, that I don’t trust any of them to look truthful to reality.

Contrasting Notes
In the image below, the studio doorway, the foliage and the little boy’s tee-shirt are all of varying shades of green. There seems to be a gigantic painting in the background, filled with blue, abstract shapes. Yet apart from white, there are only a couple of strongly contrasting “notes” — the red flower and the studio’s red telephone number in the top right corner.

Contrasting notes of colour are helpful in alleviating the sameness of an image where a single colour dominates. Red is the exact opposite of green and always strikes a cheerful note — like a Ferrari speeding through the forest on the race track at Nürburgring.

You can see why I’m not entirely happy with the “dominant colour” style of street photography, even though it still seems like a good idea. Maybe our eyes are not yet ready for it.

Although we’re fully accustomed to viewing black and white photography where colour is notable by its absence, we don’t respond well to monochrome images that are not colour-neutral. I’ve created many artworks using monochrome but I’ve always relied on alternating two contrasting or complementary monochrome hues to make the pictures work.

Meanwhile, I continue to keep a lookout for the perfect shot in which a single colour dominates. It’s out there, somewhere.

 

London, Under Reconstruction

by

There’s a fine Japanese short story by Mori Ogai called “Fushinchu” (“Under Reconstruction,” 1910) which describes the discomfort of living in the city when it’s being extensively re-built.

I was reminded of this story on a recent walk around London. Everywhere I went there seemed to be men in yellow jackets: knocking down buildings, unloading trucks and pouring concrete. Eventually I was forced to recognise that all this frenetic activity was the most prominent feature on the street. Unless I included it in my shots I’d not be telling the truth.

However, there’s a problem here. If I were to photograph builders doing all the things they normally do, I’d end up with pictures that would look as if they’d been commissioned by a construction company.

Their Own World
Construction workers live in their own world. They are usually confined to a building site which is fenced off from the general public. They labour long and hard, then they remove the hoardings and there — suddenly — is a brand new building ready for occupation. The workers then move to another site and do it all over again.

If the street photographer ventures into the constructors’ world the result is the corporate-industrial photo. Sometimes a great candid shot emerges (for example, the much-reproduced image of men eating lunch on a steel crossbeam, high above the streets of New York, taken by Charles Ebbets in 1932) but that’s an exception. You need permission to get anywhere near the action — and permission has to come jointly from the construction company, the architects and the owners of the building. Street photographers are not in the habit of seeking permission.

My featured image (above) shows how I solved the problem. I simply took a candid picture of a construction worker ducking his head to walk under a narrow and very ancient passageway. The contrast between the size of the figure and the narrowness of the passage says something about how the modern world is too big, too dynamic, too aggressive to be constrained by old buildings. It makes you wonder: will this man supervise the destruction of the “Lamb & Flag”? One hopes not, but you can never tell.

I hope London succeeds in finding the right balance between preservation and regeneration. The latter can be alarming when you see it happening, but the alternative — too much preservation — can be stultifying to the life of the city.

New Kid on the Block
There was opposition when the misleadingly named Edwardian Group wanted to replace the famous Odeon Cinema West End with a ten-storey block consisting of a hotel, spa and a two-screen cinema. Permission was given and, at the time of writing, there’s a 30-metre hole where the original cinema once stood. People take turns to stare at it open-mouthed through a tiny viewing window.

“That’s where I saw ‘Lord of the Rings,'” I heard one onlooker say, a little wistfully.

I took a quick snap (above), just to show you what it looks like.

Moving around the site I found two other onlookers marvelling at the crane (below). That’s one way to tackle the existence of construction work: get some reaction shots of people who’re taking an interest in what’s going on.

Personally, I think the new building on the south side of Leicester Square will be magnificent. It will probably put the rest of the square to shame so that buildings on the other three sides will need replacing, too. That’s what happens when a city’s “under reconstruction.”

My favourite shot from my walk around Leicester Square’s big hole is this one (below) of the man on the gate. His job is to supervise the constant flow of trucks entering and leaving the site, bringing liquid concrete for the foundations of the new hotel complex.

The man was taking a break and looking in my direction, probably wondering if I’d cause any trouble. He later asked me, politely, to keep to my side of the barrier. After all, I belong to the other, non-construction world of pedestrians, onlookers and passers-by. I plan to keep it that way.

Footnote

In this blog I occasionally refer to my favourite Japanese writers, but I usually keep to the conventional western habit of reversing the Japanese word order so that the family name comes last instead of first, as it does in Japan.

I’ve not done that with Mori Ogai (1862-1922) because not many people have read him in the west, despite his sublime story “Takasebune” (“The Boat on the River Takase,” 1916) being translated eleven times. (OK, not very many people…)

Lieutenant-General Mori Ogai, who once worked as an army surgeon, was born Mori Rintaro and took various names for his poetry and short stories. With affectionate reverence the Japanese call him “Ogai.”

Stolen Portraits

by

In a 2014 article, Business Insider noted: “Back in 2008, we uploaded very few photos to the internet.” How times have changed!

I don’t know exactly how many digital photos will be taken this year, but I suspect it will be squillions. One cleverly calculated estimate for last year (from Eric Perret) — based on 5 billion mobile phones, 80 percent of them with cameras, each taking 10 pictures a day — was 14,600,000,000,000 (over 14 trillion).

Only a relatively small percentage of these trillions of images found their way on to the Internet. Nonetheless, looking back a little further to 2016 (seems like a long time ago!) Google reported that over 200 million people a month uploaded images to its Google Photos application, posting (among other stuff) 24 billion selfies.

More Portraits
Do we really need any more casually taken portraits? I guess not, but I still occasionally like to grab what I call a “stolen portrait” — a sneaky shot of someone when he, she, or non-gender-specific person least suspects they’re being photographed. I think it helps to counterbalance those billions of posed shots, showing a different aspect to people’s lives which would otherwise remain hidden.

From waist height, I took the featured image (above) in Oxford Street. I think it turned out rather well. My camera (Canon 5DIII) lacks one of those nifty LCD screens you can tilt to help you take this kind of shot, so I always have to guess what I’m doing. Fortunately, I’ve avoided tilting the camera itself, keeping the verticals completely straight (without any later manipulation which always degrades the image).

Thanks to the bright but even light, both people in the shot look terrific. I hate “stolen portraits” that make people look bad. There are several street photographers who do this deliberately — in the Diane Arbus tradition. She, at least, created some truly compelling images as a result, but the vast majority of such photos are simply embarrassing for all concerned: for the photographer, onlooker, and (especially) the subject.

The Tour Leader
Here’s another stolen portrait: a photo of someone who seems to be in charge of a tour around the old flower market in Covent Garden. No one appears to be taking much notice of her, but she’s clearly visible with the brightly coloured parasol. I expect she’s waiting patiently for other members of the group to arrive.

I don’t offer this photo as one of my best examples of street photography, but I like it as stolen portrait. Everyone looks to be in good humour, but there’s also a slight hint of exasperation, of: “Where the hell have the others got to?” The leader is refusing to be moved and leans on the iron post for additional support.

If the image has any visual quality it’s in the contrast between the flimsiness of the parasol and the solidity of the post. This material contrast echoes the clash between “good humour” and “exasperation.” It’s a pity the crowd milling around are not in better positions, but maybe that, too, provides some contrast with the tour leader’s determination to be calm.

Pink Lunch
Finally, here a tough looking character grabbing a quick lunch at a high, pink table (above). You may thnk the image is a little bit intrusive, but remember, this is a tourist hot-spot where lots of people take photos — and the table’s location is scarcely discreet.

I don’t think the subject would mind. He’s not yet begun to jam the frankfurter into his mouth, in the style of one of those hapless politicians who’re always being caught off-guard by the paparazzi. This man is illuminated by some reflected light from the table. His gesture is poised in mid-air in perpetual anticipation of the food.

Stolen portrait? It’s a moment stolen from time. One of many trillions.

The Charm of Pedal Power

by

Why are bicycles so charming and photogenic? You would think they’d make terrible pictures, being cluttered with chains and spokes and odd bits of metal here and there. But no, a bike can lift the spirits, especially when there’s a pretty girl riding it.

Or not. That’s the point — even at rest, leaning up against the railings, a bicycle seems appealing. It could be because we look at it and imagine a pretty girl (or guy) riding it. Or it could simply be because we imagine it in motion, doing what it’s meant to do. It allows us to move at a greater speed than we can achieve by running — and to do so without resorting to any source of energy other than our own. Surely, that’s a really beautiful notion?

Jules et Jim
Just think of the movies that have featured bicycles. The definitive film of the French “New Wave” was Francois Truffaut’s “Jules et Jim” — and what are the scenes we remember from it? Why, it’s surely those with the bicycles, with the eternal triangle of Jules, Jim and Catherine cycling with exhilarating freedom, accompanied by Georges Delerue’s delightful music.

For an article called “The greatest film scenes ever shot” in The Guardian newspaper, film director Ken Loach picked the bicycling scene in Jules et Jim as his chosen sequence. He wrote: “The sense of enjoyment with this trio on their bicycles is perennial. It’s completely evocative of that carefree young moment, the age when people are carefree. And then of course, for these three, it will all be ruined by the war.” (WW1).

When the Wobbling Has to Stop
Yes, there’s also a poignancy associated with bicycles. Youth and cycling go together. As we get older, we tend to wobble more dangerously when pedalling on two wheels. A judge, dismissing the arguments of a motorist who’d knocked a man off his bike, said a cyclist must be “allowed his wobble.” He included the exaggerated wobbling of elderly people on bicycles. Maybe he was a cyclist himself.

There’s poignancy in my featured image (above), but not because it shows the ephemerality of youth. Rather, it’s the contrast between the elderly man with his two sticks and the other, faster means of transport in the background.

The image is an example of “layers,” with three types of transport occupying three layers in the photo: the man with the sticks, the parked bicycle, and the white van behind them. The poignancy of the image is fairly obvious, but it’s not entirely negative. At least the man is making intrepid progress, whereas the bike is locked to the black pole — and the van is stuck in traffic.

Tough Bikes
Bicycles are beginning to lose their integrity by becoming tougher and — heaven help us — motorised! Pedalease, the makers of the bike below, offer electric bicyles as well as the ruggedised Big Cat Fat Bike shown in the photo. It’s certainly eye-catching. The two policemen seem to like the look of it, while the woman with the black bag examines it closely as she walks past.

Personally I would hate to ride such a monster. It looks burdensome, like a heavy DSLR camera with a big zoom lens. When obesity invades the bicycle you lose the sense of lightheartedness and freedom which two thin wheels can provide.

On the cycling track and even in road races, it’s the lightweight, super-strong bikes that give their riders the greatest advantage.

Here’s a shot (above) I took of British cyclist Hannah Barnes, on her way to winning an Izumi road race around Colchester town centre. It’s not a “street photo,” as such, but it’s a study of human grace and power, allied with advanced technology and super-thin wheels.

Somehow, I can’t resist taking a shot when someone of interest passes me on a bicycle. The resulting photo is not always as complex or meaningful as the featured image at the top, but I can often find amusing contrast, as below.

The colourful bicycle is almost the antithesis of the woman’s black jeans, cap and cape. I panned the camera to get the shot and the 1/800th second shutter speed hasn’t quite frozen all the movement.

Disturbingly, the only part of the picture in sharp focus is the triangular cape with its colourful, hand embroidered edging. It’s as though the cyclist has had second thoughts about dressing entirely in black. (Please note this was taken well before the national mourning later in the year).

Sadness edged with hope? Or just a regular costume to protect against the sun? I have no idea. As Francois Truffaut said: “I begin a film believing it will be amusing — and along the way I notice that only sadness can save it.”

Sometimes the same is true in still photography — and sometimes it’s the opposite. What appears to be sad can actually seem joyful on close examination.

Keeping the City at a Distance

by

Like most street photographers I place people centre-stage. In musical terms, I give people the vocal role while the city provides the instrumental accompaniment.

I tend to keep the two components — subject and environment — in balance, without either of them dominating too greatly. Sometimes, however, I’m so struck by the beauty of one or the other that I depart from the score and make up the tune as I go along.

Tin Pan Alley
The musical metaphor fits my featured image (above) very neatly. It’s looking directly down London’s Denmark Street, otherwise known as “Tin Pan Alley” because this is where you can buy most types of instrument — from guitars to synthesizers — for playing popular music and jazz.

If you look carefully at the photo you can read the words “banjos,” “mandolins,” “acoustic guitars,” “sheet music,” “saxophone showroom,” “synths,” “keyboards,” “organs,” and “digital pianos.”

The shop in the foreground also says: “lapsteels” which had me searching Google to find out what they are. “Showing results for lap steels” came back the message, with an illustration of a guitar with a glass or metal bar instead of a fretboard. Ah! Thank you, Google. I’ll remind everyone that’s your colourful London headquarters in the background of the shot.

In this photo I was “keeping the city at a distance.” I was not expecting to get one of those cute combinations of tangled arms and legs, or any expressive faces or telling incidents. This time I was just struck by the beauty of London on a day in early Spring, when the sun comes out and people walk around in short sleeves, even though they’re still palid from the winter.

Positioned on the other side of Charing Cross Road, I waited for a big, shiny bus to stop at the lights and anchor the image firmly at the centre. The picture wouldn’t work if the stationary vehicle was a taxi or a small car. I needed colour and size at the centre as well as at the edges.

I also had to wait for the right assortment of people to cross the road. In the shot there’s a girl using crutches who has her leg in very colourful plaster. I was rather hoping she’d be more prominent in the image, but perhaps it’s for the best that she’s concealed by the woman at her side. If one of the pedestrians had become too prominent the balance of the image might have been upset.

As it is, I’m quite pleased with the result. Leaning on some street furniture I was able to get maximum sharpness — and the 1/1000th second speed of the shutter has frozen the movement of the pedestrians. As a result, there is charm is in the detail as well as in the whole. You can clearly see the orange cage of a lift, with a man in an orange uniform going up (or down). And a passenger in the bus is smiling broadly. It was that kind of day.

Hong Kong Break
There are two smiling girls near the centre of this next picture (below), taken in Hong Kong, but everyone else looks tired. Most of the workers are on a break, too exhausted to do anything except stare listlessly into the distance before starting their afternoon shift.

The gaze of the two figures at the front is of great help to the composition. Their positions lead the eye into the picture. Again, here I’m keeping the city at arm’s length, not getting too close to anyone in particular, so it doesn’t matter that we can’t see their faces.

There are two exceptions: the man sitting down at the bottom right and the tall man on the left. Of the two, the latter — in yellow boots and smoking a cigarette — is the more important. He stops the eye from wandering off down the steps on the left. In this he’s helped by the photographic artwork which forms two different images depending on your viewpoint. You can just make out the lettering: “Cochrane Street 1959” in each of the versions.

Like my Tin Pan Alley shot, there’s a wide variation in light and shade which I’ve chosen not to correct too heavily in Photoshop. Both images are tending towards over-exposed bright areas and underexposed shadows. For the sake of the detail I’ve deliberately erred on the side of the shadows, here allowing the sunny area to wash out some of the 1959 photograph, without destroying it completely.

Does it work as a composition? Yes, I think it almost does. It would be perfect if the man in the yellow boots were slightly closer to the camera, but there was no guarantee he’d retain his pose if I’d waited. As it is, he’s clearly moving towards the perfect position — and that’s sufficient for me. As Wayne Gretzky once said: “A good hockey player plays where the puck is. A great hockey player plays where the puck is going to be.”

A Distant View of the River
After the intensity of Hong Kong it’s good to return to the serenity of Bangkok. I say that with a sense or irony because much of Bangkok is no less frenetic than Hong Kong. Only in certain places, like here (below) beside the Chao Praya, does the pace of life dwindle to a standstill. Once more, the focus is on the distance, looking towards the far bank of the river where the Chinese pagoda of the Chee Chin Khor temple seems like an ancient feature of the cityscape. (More irony: it dates from the year 2001).

Of the three images I’m showing here I like this one the best. I was lucky that the reflection of light from the river was enough to illuminate the underside of the structure on the right. The variation in the tiles helps to rescue the blankness of the foreground. I particularly wanted to get in the backlit canopy with the smiling couple on it. They seem to face the camera, despite being shown from the back — which again is somewhat ironic.

I didn’t intend this to be an ironic picture, and it’s not. I just stumbled across a quiet scene, way off the tourist trail, in a place where the fish don’t seem to be biting. Or maybe they are. Bright light has driven up my shutter speed to 1/6400th of a second. The man on the right is reaching forward. He’s frozen mid-air in a decisive moment.

Maybe this is street photography after all.

Allow Themes to Emerge

by

This blog post is all about one single tip for the aspiring street photographer. It’s this: don’t set yourself specific tasks or place yourself in the straitjacket of a “concept.” Just take pictures and allow themes to emerge.

You may not recognise them at first. You’ll see various subjects in the street — shoppers, workers, entertainers, people making deliveries, others standing around in groups — and occasionally you’ll make your selection and take a picture. You’ll probably think your choice is governed almost entirely by other factors, such as expression, gesture, dress, lighting and background. But it’s not.

There’s always an original motivation which propels you towards one subject rather than another. Clearly, this motivation lies within the photographer and doesn’t form part of the outside world.

For example, if you frequently take photos of people in groups, does each particular group have some unique quality that deserves your attention? Of course not! You’re attracted by many different groups, for reasons of your own.

Maybe you have a deep tribal instinct, one that’s normally hidden but which emerges when you look at the world through your camera. Or maybe groups disturb you and you want to come to terms with them.

Whatever it is, you choose to take pictures of people in groups — perhaps without being fully aware of it. The photos get mixed in with all the others you take: of people by themselves, small details, crowds, dogs…

The Emerging Theme
After working at street photography for a year or two you’ll see themes emerging naturally. Going back through your pictures you’ll notice the subjects which have held your interest. Perhaps you’ll even be able to assemble a few collections: galleries in which there’s some commonality between shots.

The process I’ve described is one I’ve noticed in my own street photography. First and foremost I’m attracted by contrasts. I like to see one idea (or shape, or colour, or an entire culture) pitted against another. Yet I’d been taking street pictures for a year or two before I realised how endemic the process had become. Now, I don’t think I could stop myself seeing peculiar contrasts even if I tried.

For example, take my featured image (above). Taken outside a Chinese temple in Thailand, it’s a nice jumble of colours, with an emphasis on the lady in pink who wears an inappropriate tee-shirt proclaiming “Playgirl Requested.” You can see immediately the clash of cultures and languages, but the contrast also extends to the two tourists at the temple entrance. They’re dressed in primary colours unlike the other women — and they face in the opposite direction.

You could argue that contrasts do not in themselves constitute a theme. Their inclusion in street photography is like adding seasoning to a meal. Perhaps you’d be right, but it’s not only contrast that attracts me to certain subjects rather than others. I also like pairs.

The Joy of Pairs
You’ve probably noticed there are two pairs of people in the featured photo. Communication passes between the members of each pair. That’s the joy of being in a group of two: you can be mutally supportive, whether you’re sightseeing or working seriously.

Here (above) are two cyclists who share the same uniform — passing under a bougainvillea bush (fuengfa in Thai) of much the same colour. It’s good when the pair of subjects share something in common with their surroundings.

Fortunately for me the world is full of pairs: lovers, brothers, sisters, married couples or just-good-friends. I spotted the scene below from the top of a bridge and hurried downstairs to take it.

The two young women with a similar taste in clothes and accessories were still in animated conversation, so I wasn’t disappointed. Moreover, I found a striking contrast with the (married?) couple on the right and the man sitting by himself on the left.

In a sense, the two pairs of people and the man in black form three distinct subjects in the above image. Their respective states of mind are entirely different: reflective (man in black), upbeat (cartoon couple), and somewhat concerned (married couple). Meanwhile, life goes on all around them.

Here’s one last pair: two girls in Singapore taking a selfie. What motivated me to take the shot? Their matching flip-flops, of course!

Other Themes
I think I have around a dozen other themes which have emerged naturally during the course of taking street photos. I’ll be talking about them in future blog posts and I’ve already mentioned one or two — such as “The Face in the Crowd” — in articles I’ve posted recently.

Off the top of my head, without thinking too deeply about it, here are some of the subjects to which I’m drawn:

People eating; shoppers going in an out of a mall; people playing with water; men working; women standing around “looking good”; people looking bored and anxious; anyone carrying something unusual; people who are extremely ordinary yet somehow beautiful.

I remain open to other ideas, but these will keep me going for a while.

Waterway “Street” Photography

by

Can you do street photography on rivers and canals? I don’t see why not. The only difference between the waterway and the street is the obligation to use a boat for transport, rather than your feet.

Yes, I admit that’s a major difference, because the knock-on effect is the lack of pedestrians. Without passers-by, the street photographer no longer has a constant flow of potential subjects. All that remains is a constant flow of water.

However, rather than dismiss out of hand the potential of “waterway photography” I think we should first consider its advantages.

For a start, the light is nearly always excellent. It reflects off the water and illuminates the subject from below as well as from above. You won’t find this effect on the street unless it’s been a very rainy day.

The air is clearer on the river; the traffic more graceful; the people (if you can find people) more relaxed and more open to the idea of being photographed.

Any pictures you get on the river will evoke a slower and possibly more appealing style of life than the one you left behind on dry land. When you embark and set sail you’re entering a parallel world that will inspire you to see people in a fresh light.

It’s fun to join in, but not essential. You don’t have to get on a boat to participate in waterway photography. You can remain on the quayside and photograph other people jumping on and off ferries, motor launches, gondolas. I’m tempted to say “whatever floats your boat.”

The Parallel World
The subject of my featured image (above) is a small boy on a large vessel: the last section of a river “barge train” on Bangkok’s Chao Praya. I took it from a public ferry, but I was lucky to get the shot because ferries rarely pass close enough to these massive barges to enable a decent shot.

The photograph sets me thinking: “What’s life like for a small boy on a barge?” It must be extraordinary. English children dream of being train drivers, but even if Dad drives the 07:15 express from Paddington you don’t get to ride with him by yourself. This little chap does more than ride. He lives on the barge, surrounded by dangers — and I bet he enjoys every minute. You’ll not see anyone remotely similar to him on the street.

When they get older, river people have a weather-beaten look. It’s a tough life on the water, especially in Thailand where the rivers and canals are crowded with traffic. I took the shot (below) from a bridge. I liked the empty seat, which looks inviting — although the man has to hold a bamboo pole in readiness to steer clear of other vessels rather than relax comfortably on his chair.

Passengers
My next composition (below) is closer to what we think of as “street photography.” The wind helps to make it a “decisive moment” by displacing a man’s hat, blowing hair out of place and waving the stripey shirt of the lady on the right. Every movement speaks of the river, even though you can only glimpse it through the railings of the boat.

Divided into two halves and crowned with a car tyre the image works because all the detail is rigidly organised with straight lines and symmetrical balance. It just avoids becoming over-organised by virtue of the central pillar beneath the tyre, which adds a diagonal to a composition which is otherwise undisturbed, except by the breeze.

The possibilities for waterway photography are endless and I have to say it’s one of my favourite activities. I have a great love for rivers, in particular for their varied reality as well as for their metaphorical significance. It’s impossible to experience a river and not be reminded of how its journey from upland to the ocean resembles the life of an individual human being. You don’t need to read the wonderful novel “The River Ki” by Sawako Ariyoshi to have this thought (but it helps).

Celebrations on the River
It’s not surprising, therefore, that people choose the river for special celebrations and ceremonies which mark our passage through life. In Bangkok, there are engagement parties, weddings and funerals — all held aboard boats on the river.

 

I’m not sure of the occasion being marked by those on board the vessel in my shot above. The boat had just left when I arrived. The sun was setting; people were dressed in traditional costume. There was an air of formality and seriousness about it which I’d not experienced on the river during the day. I took the shot quickly before the vessel moved out of range, all the while hoping it was a happy event and not a sombre one.

To my original question: “Can you do street photography on rivers and canals?” my answer can now be more definite.

Waterway photography offers subject matter which has all the extremes of youth and maturity, work and recreation, wealth and poverty, life and death — plus good light. So, yes, it’s a great environment for taking candid shots. Just don’t fall in the water.

 

Feasting, Eating, and Snacking on the Street

by

The civic authorities in Bangkok are beginning to outlaw the sale of fastfood on certain streets, especially those in trendy, up-and-coming areas like Thonglor. Not everyone is happy about it. After all, street food is trendy too.

Bangkok is unique in having the world’s most elaborate street food culture. A lot of vendors specialise in a single dish — and they get rather good at making it. Although the vast majority of vendors (there are an estimated 380,000) sell relatively low-cost meals, some of them use the finest ingredients and serve an up-market clientele.

For the street photographer, the existence of street vendors in Bangkok offers an excellent opportunity to get some great shots. In the past I’ve tried to keep these shots to a minimum — regarding the subject as too obvious — but now that 15,000 food vendors have already been evicted I’m beginning to change my mind. They represent an entire way of life which could one day disappear.

If only there’d been a few accomplished street photographers operating in Tokyo at the end of the samurai era — or others working in Dickensian London in the early nineteenth century. Think of the treasures they would have preserved! Every city undergoes constant change and we all need to recognise the process before it’s too late.

Food, Work, Sex, Religion, Art
When I look at the photos I take in Bangkok I can see they nearly all relate to food, work, sex, religion or art. Almost every composition you’re likely to find has one or other of these elements within it. Only if you focus on a giant lizard in Lumpini Park will you escape them, but, even then, the lizard is probably thinking about food, or sex, or both.

In recent years I’ve learned quite a lot about Thai food — and Thai attitudes towards it. I’ve helped my partner, food writer Oi Cheepchaiissara, to produce five books and sixteen e-books, taking all the pictures for the e-books and for the most recent of her printed books.

There’s no doubt about it: for the Thais, food is both fun and serious at the same time. It’s long in preparation (that’s the serious part) but quick to cook and fun to eat.

You can tell Thai food is fun to eat by the way people eat it. My featured image (above) shows someone snacking on-the-hoof in a street market on the west (Temple of Dawn) side of the river. Thais enjoy food when they’re alone, when they’re in company, during the morning, afternoon, evening, before bedtime — at any time — and the majority of them remain relatively slim. It’s one of life’s mysteries.

The Western Influence
Among “young upwardly-mobile professionals,” western fast food is popular in Bangkok, as long as it’s fun to eat. Unlike traditional Thai food it always comes in clever packaging and is served from outlets that look reasonably hygienic (above). When you’re dressed in designer clothes it seems to make sense to eat something clean and neat.

Contrast the relaxed, western-style ice cream stand (above) with the frenetic chaos of the street food vendor (below). I’ve called this image “Cleaning Up” although I took it early in the day when you’d normally expect a vendor to be fully prepared for business. However, once he gets that oven with the crooked stovepipe fired up, he’ll be in full swing and there’ll be a queue of customers waiting for him. I’m not sure if that’s his car in the background. Probably not.

Moving Indoors
One option for the displaced street vendor is to move to an organised market space, perhaps even to an indoor market. Every mall has a busy food hall, patronised by crowds of hungry customers.

One of my personal favourites is a market (below) that’s almost unknown to western tourists: the Old Siam Plaza on Burapha Road. It’s a great place for desserts and occupies a very old building, the first of its kind in Bangkok. The guide books invariably describe it as a “hidden treasure” or a “living museum.” These days it’s very much alive, despite having closed and reopened several times in the past.

Divided into two large open areas and three floors, Old Siam Plaza is a place where you can buy anything from a sniper rifle to a wedding dress. Foodwise it offers every dessert from Woon Grob (crispy jelly) and Kanom Sai Sai (sweet coconut steamed in banana leaf) to Sa Koo Sai Moo (steamed tapioca balls) and Khanom Buang (crispy pancakes).

The growing popularity of sweet foods may have something to do with the spread of air conditioning in Bangkok. Maybe that’s why so many activities are moving indoors.

Non-Food Addendum
The famous wholesale flower market, Pak Khlong Talat (“market at the mouth of the canal”) moved indoors in 2016. I suppose it makes sense. Cut flowers last longer in a cool environment. Yet it no longer has the same atmosphere — one which is likely to inspire the street photographer.

The unique atmosphere of Pak Khlong Talat has gone the way of the Covent Garden fruit and vegetable market in London. The place is still there. But the life, activity and everything that made it unique have all disappeared into the past. It’s an inevitable — and entirely natural — process, recorded by street photography so that we don’t forget it completely.

Deliberate Obscurity

by

When William Eggleston said “I am at war with the obvious” I don’t think he was recommending the deliberate embrace of obscurity. Yet it’s a measure of how far we’ve come that today a photographer can offer complex images with hidden meanings and unusual compositions — a long way from the “rectangle with an object in the middle of it” which Eggleston decried.

The change in how we look at photographic images is similar to that which ushered in the age of Impressionism (and Post-Impressionism, Cubism, Fauvism…yada-yada) while sweeping aside the stultifying influence of the academies. Artists led the way; critics and intelligent onlookers followed.

Playing Catch-Up
Unfortunately, the vast majority of people can be slow to catch up. Perhaps this is because, on the surface, the world looks too familiar to most people. They look at it with an unquestioning eye, whereas the perceptive street photographer sees a completely different reality.

Once you start to look at the world with a questioning eye — wondering why this man is carrying a mysterious object, or why this woman is shielding her face — only then can you begin to see beneath the world’s everyday appearance of normality.

The more adventurous we become in our street compositions, the more closely our photos begin — at least on a superficial level — to resemble “snapshots” rather than perfectly composed photographs.

Eggleston again: “The blindness [of most people] is apparent when someone lets slip the word ‘snapshot’. Ignorance can always be covered by ‘snapshot’. The word has never had any meaning. I am at war with the obvious.”

Man Made
My featured image (above) is far from being obvious. To many people it may look like a hastily taken snapshot! In fact, I composed it very carefully when I took it, so I’m not guilty of just “snapping” a random image.

I was intrigued by the dull light emanating from the ugly light bulbs which appear to be hanging from a tangle of wires on a clothes rack. The bulbs are directly in front of the faces of the two main subjects, making it impossible for us to see the subjects properly. Nonetheless, the “clothes rack” with the lights (and another one without) together make a natural rectangle, cutting out the subjects from the rest of the image.

No fewer than seven people in the photo are wearing glasses — and everyone is looking intently at different objects (which we can’t see). Maybe it’s a Saturday morning sale! I remember taking it on a Saturday (the EXIF confirms it) and if you’re familiar with markets I think you’ll agree the image has a Saturday morning atmosphere.

Apart from the people, the most noticeable elements in the photo are the orange and white canopies and awnings, some of which look a lot more permanent than the others. Beyond them all is the solid structure of the building. Attached to a pillar is a scrawled notice which says: “Man Made.” The words are hard to read because the English language is tricky to decipher when you rotate it ninety degrees.

My picture suggests the idea that many layers of organisation are apparent in the modern world. You can see four of them here: the permanent building, the less permanent orange and white awnings, the temporary stall canopies, and the ongoing, somewhat disorganised, ephemeral muddle of the Saturday vendors. But don’t worry. It’s all “man made” — including my photo.

When Subjects Hide
My next picture (below) is not nearly as “obscure.” In fact, the main figure is placed centrally, thus satisfying the demands of (in Eggleston’s words) “more people than I can imagine.”

Yet as you can see, there are really three women near the centre of the frame. It’s just that we tend to notice the main figure first because of her gold-coloured head-gear. The woman with the raised arm is no less interesting photographically because her bronze jacket and hair are an exact match in the afternoon sun. Behind them both is another woman whose hair gleams silver with specular light.

Gold, silver and bronze are the three colours at the centre of the image — and all else is incidental. The onlooker may not be conscious of this combination, but can sense it subconsciously. Partly because of it, the image has a mysterious quality which is hard to pin down (although I’ve done my best).

There’s a smiling man in the background; another man with a prominent ear-ring looks far from happy; a protective hand rests on the shoulder of a child. Surrounding them all — including the gold, silver and bronze women — are endless pairs of sandals. How mundane is that?

I have to admit, I’m at war with the obvious, too.

Dressing Windows

by

A sheet of plate glass less than an inch thick separates the life of the street from the life of the shop window. When window dressers change their display, they — and their display — become a potential subject for street photographers. Should we accept the challenge? You bet!

Window dressing is a great subject, but it’s also an extremely difficult one. However, for the moment, let’s forget about all the difficulties and look at why it’s so great.

The world of the street and that of the store are entirely separate, with their own conventions and environmental conditions. Unlike stores in the mall, which blend into the walkways with open entrances, high street stores put up a barrier against the street while inviting the onlooker to step, imaginatively, into the window.

The shop window is therefore a stage with props and actors, a theatrical showcase where the performance is often stationary and always silent.

During the changeover, when window dressers move in to change the display, the goods are replaced by a real theatrical performance: men and women at work, struggling to manipulate awkward mannequins in a confined space.

Yes, it’s a great subject because it’s literally a window into another world, but you need to be there when it happens.

The Difficulties
So many! Where do I start?

First, is the problem of reflected light. The street will almost certainly reflect in the window, making the subject the brightly lit people on the sidewalk rather than those inside the store. For this reason, nine out of ten windows are not fit for the street photographer’s purpose.

Second, is the difficulty of framing the shot. If you step back you’ll interfere with the flow of pedestrians, one or two of whom will huff and puff and walk in front of the camera. I can’t say I blame them. They worry me less than those who patiently try to stay out of the way.

Third is the problem of finding a good angle. You can walk left or right, but that’s about the extent of it. The subject is already elevated (in all likelihood) and so there’s no point in stooping down.

Fourth, is the problem of focus. If you rely on autofocus you’ll find that any marks or stickers on the glass will force the AF to focus a foot or two in front of the people in the window.

Fifth (I’ll call a halt to the difficulties after this one) is the fact that window dressers spend a lot of time pondering, looking, and evaluating — more than the time they spend lifting, pinning, and arranging. If you wait for them to do something interesting, they’ll wait for you to go away. This is the trickiest problem of all.

Solving the Difficulties
1. You can reduce the problems caused by reflected light if you use a polarising filter, either on the camera or later in software.

2. A wide angle lens lets you get as much of the window into the frame as possible.

3. Holding the camera high up allows you to include most of the action from a good vantage point.

4. Focus on the figures and not on the glass. Use manual focus if necessary.

5. Stand well away from the window to observe what’s going on, then move in when there’s some significant action.

Moaning About the Results
As you can see, I’ve never solved all the difficulties, but I’ve done my best — and one day I’ll get the all-time classic shot of window dressing (or so I tell myself).

My featured image (above) was taken in sun-drenched Singapore, so reflections were always going to be the major snag. Nonetheless, the shot has good focus and resolution and the original would print at 32 x 40 inches. Alas, at that size you’d see the spots on the window, caused by rain or splashes from passing traffic. I’d remove them if I printed the image.

I applied a software polarising routine to the shot below, which makes it just about usable. But the framing was almost impossible, forcing me to crop the image at either side. I took focus from the shark — which is obviously correct, as nobody wants to see blurred shark teeth.

As a consequence, the figures are in soft focus. Although I rather expected this effect, I think perhaps I’ve overdone it. What do you think?

As you can see, the mannequin is missing a hand, which, together with the shark, is the point of the image.

I have no idea whether the window dressers eventually attached the hand before they finished. I hope so, because “wear this swimsuit, get mutilated by a shark” doesn’t seem to be great advertising.

Still, it’s eye-catching, both as a window and as a not-exactly-what-I’m-after photo.