What Are We Waiting For?

by

When you photograph someone waiting patiently — or impatiently — you’re introducing an element of expectation into your photo. This means the shot is “open-ended,” or not complete in itself. It’s telling a story that will never be completed because no additional images exist to show us whether the subject’s expectation is ever met.

I like the open-endedness of certain still photographs. It creates a similar effect to cutting off the action at the edge of the frame, but in a temporal rather than a spatial sense. In other words it suggests that life will continue in the future — and gives you an indication of exactly how it will continue — as well as suggesting that life extends beyond the frame of the image.

Waiting at the Convenience Store
To be absolutely honest, I’m not exactly sure what’s going on in my featured image “Waiting at the Convenience Store” (above). Is the young woman with the dreamy expression merely waiting for her friend to answer some emails, or are they both waiting for someone to come out of the shop? Maybe they have a friend who owns the scooter next to them. Or perhaps they’re waiting for the man at the ATM to withdraw some money and repay a debt.

The point is: we don’t really need to know the answer. In fact, it’s better if there’s no obvious solution to the puzzle which the image poses. The existence of the “waiting scenario” causes the onlooker to ask questions and invent possible answers. It brings the photo to life.

The passer-by, caught in mid-step, is one of the few active elements in the picture. She scratches her head as if acknowledging the puzzle. A mannequin stands silently and incongruously in the background.

A Woman’s Work
The actress Camryn Manheim (she played Elvis’s mother in the 2005 mini-series) has been quoted as saying: “Waiting, waiting, waiting. All my life, I’ve been waiting for my life to begin, as if somehow my life was ahead of me, and that someday I would arrive at it.”

Throughout history, waiting has been a feminine activity. Women have waited for their husbands to return home from the sea, from work or from war. It was a subject often depicted by painters of “genre works” in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.

For example, there’s a fine watercolour called “Awaiting the Return of the Fleet” by the English artist George Goodwin Kilburne (1839–1924). In it, a woman sits patiently on the edge of a rowing boat, her feet on the sand, looking out across the river when the tide is out. No water is visible in the picture. The tide must first return, and with it, perhaps, her man.

Another watercolour, by the Italian painter Arnaldo Ferraguti (1862-1925), is called “The Expectation” and has a similar feeling of dignified frustration and unfulfillment. This time a woman sits high above the water, a posy of flowers and a pair of discarded gloves beside her. The title tells us she’s waiting for someone — not necessarily a man — but you could interpret the image in many ways.

The Times They Are a Changin’
I don’t know who first expressed the idea that waiting was not the best policy for women. Maybe it was the fictional bear: Winnie the Pooh. His creator A.A. Milne put these words into his mouth: “You can’t stay in your corner of the forest waiting for others to come to you. You have to go to them sometimes.”

Women seem have taken this advice to heart. The actress, singer, dancer Kat Graham (of “The Vampire Diaries”) has commented: “There was a time when (a man) thought it was sexy to have a housewife waiting for him to come home from work…but in modern society, I think an independent woman is even more sexy.”

In the image below, all the women look somwhat impatient. The passers-by hurry along to their destination, one of them rummaging as she goes. The young woman who leans against the bollard could simply be enjoying the sun and wondering where to go next. You get the impression she’ll not wait for long.

These days, men, too, have to wait for a while — especially when they go shopping with a female partner. I could have taken any number of pictures of men sitting grumpily in women’s fashion stores while women try on clothes.

Filling Time
Looking through my images I seem to have remarkably few that show men waiting patiently. Even at a bus stop (below), one man has decided to “hoof it” by walking past in the same direction as the buses. The one who stays behind is looking at his mobile phone.

If you seek opportunities to photograph people waiting, the mobile phone is bound to feature in most of your shots. Today, “waiting” has been transferred from remaining in readiness for buses, trains, other people — and so on — to waiting for the Internet to respond. In this sense, the frustration of waiting hasn’t disappeared; it’s just been removed from one origin to another.

My final question is this: can we suggest a profound truth in photographs of people waiting? I think it’s possible. The truth lies in the concept, not the picture.

When you photograph people waiting you show them with their lives “on hold” and hoping for something better in the future. Maybe, in a sense, we all exist in this state of suspense more frequently than we suppose.

Pessimistic since his incarceration in the Bastille, Voltaire wrote: “We never live; we are always in the expectation of living.”

Fortunately, events come to our rescue. Something always occurs to distract us from the endless wait.

More About Words in Photos

by

I’m reasonably sure that words appear in a disproportionate number of my photos. Maybe the ratio is one to ten: one picture containing words to ten without. For whatever reason, I always notice them. They loom large in my vision and I try to figure out a way of using them to my advantage.

Most of the time the words I see on the streets of London are parts of various advertising campaigns; product names, slogans, and the like. But there are also posters and street signs, graffiti and tee-shirts, newspaper billboards and “polite notices” telling us to “stop it.”

One day I came across a little sticker saying “Never Ask Permission,” which I thought would be great if I could combine it with a cheekily-taken candid shot. Did anyone walk anywhere near it? No. It was so tiny I needed a passer-by to be right beside it, not even a yard away. I thought perhaps some enterprising (but misguided) street photographer had created these stickers to frustrate his competitors. If so, the ploy worked admirably.

Words in advertisements usually seem too familiar for inclusion in street photography. However, I think you need to take the long view and bear in mind that what seems familiar today may look quite different in twenty years time. The named product — and even its manufacturer — may disappear, giving the photograph a valuable, documentary quality and turning it into an historical record. I know this is not much comfort to anyone currently shooting, but it’s true.

True Wit
Fortunately, wit comes to the rescue when you take candid shots. If you can find a genuinely witty message, phrase or slogan, displayed in a public area where people gather, you’re halfway towards getting a pleasing image.

I loved the message on the sign above the head of the woman in my featured photo (above). Apart from anything else, it looks like an antique, but I suspect it may not be as old as it appears. Maybe that’s why no one has bought it: its message of distrust is so well expressed: “Beware of the dog. The cat is not trustworthy either.”

The picture works partly because the relevant sign is in bright sunlight and near the centre of the image. It doesn’t have to compete for attention with the other signs, some of which are more than a little sentimental. The coats of the women on the right form an abstract pattern of layers in tasteful colours. They lead the eye towards the centre — where two shades of bright red are poised to shout their message at us.

Prepping the Scene
I’d never make any significant alterations to the reality I find in the street — such as placing a sign or a poster at a given location. In fact, there’s only been one occasion when I’ve done anything that could remotely offend the ethics of photojournalism, which are a lot more strict than those applicable to the street photographer. Here’s the result (below).

There are many places in London where you can purchase a sweater with the words “Normal People Scare Me” emblazoned on the front, but one day I found the item at eye level in busy Oxford Street.

Perfect! Except for the fact that no one could read it because it hung awkwardly, displaying: “Nrma Ple Scre M” — which makes no sense. OK, I confess! I smoothed it out (much to the consternation of the shopkeeper) and waited for some normal (scary) — or abnormal (non-scary) — people to show up.

I’m not suggesting that the people in the photo are either one or the other — normal or abnormal — but the image is ambiguous and very much open to interpretation. The setting could scarcely be more urban, seeing as it’s the busiest street in one of the world’s largest cities, yet here is someone kitted out for a hike on the Yorkshire moors or a trek across the Alps. I can only guess he’s been shopping for camping gear. He’s probably like everyone else. Normal.

The Label Proudly Worn
Here (below) is one of my cinematic, “face-in-the-crowd” shots, taken at a winter market in the local High Street. All I saw was a pretty face, with red and green awnings in the background, an interesting way of gripping a mobile phone — and the single word: “Dope.”

Of course, it’s possible that the full word is “Dopey” — and the item of clothing something bought from the Disney Store — but I like to think it really does say “Dope.” The shorter word is cuter because of its obvious ambiguity. Dope has multiple meanings, ranging from “information” (“I’ve got the dope on all the fashion stores in town”) to “gullible fool,” and “marijuana.” It can be an instruction, as in “administer a drug to this racehorse,” or a adjective meaning “very good,” as in the slang expression: “this woollen hat is dope!”

I like it. The hat looks especially good when you walk, chat on the phone, and close your eyes at the same time.

In all three of the examples I’ve given, words add something vital to the image. I can’t say exactly what the added ingredient is, because it’s different in each case.

That’s the beauty of words. They speak urgently to us and trigger ambiguous thoughts in ways otherwise unknown to the silent world of appearances.

It’s a Man’s World, It’s a Woman’s World

by

The song “It’s a Man’s World,” made famous by James Brown, was written by one his girlfriends, Betty Jean Newsome, but it’s far from being a feminist tract. According to the song, man made the cars, the trains, “the electrolight to take us out of the dark” — and “Man made the boat for the water/Like Noah made The Ark.”

Despite these sentiments, no one seems to object too strongly to them. Maybe it’s because “Sister” Betty was a former club bouncer who’d been accustomed to frisking men and taking their guns away. She told the truth as she saw it. After noting that the world would be nothing “without a woman or a girl,” she ends the song with these two lines about “Man”:

“He’s lost in the wilderness
He’s lost in bitterness.”

Equality on the Street?
For all the talk of female equality, I don’t see much sign of it on the street. Men do the heavy lifting. They’re the people I see climbing scaffolding or digging holes in the road. They seem to make up the majority of Deliveroo workers in London.

Women may soon achieve equality in the office, but out on the building site or the battlefield — that’s a tough ask.

My featured image (above) is symbolic of women’s progress in the workplace. Many miles to the north of Bangkok, I emerged from a temple to discover the local militia in training. At least, I think that’s who they were. Their equipment was a bit rudimentary, to say the least — but they were all taking it seriously. They were all women.

All women, that is, except for the man in charge. You can clearly see his authoritative boots at the top right of the picture.

Must there always be a man in charge? Of course not. Feminists are still hoping that men have no innate advantage except in muscularity, cultural bias, and freedom from childbearing. That said, they do outnumber women (worldwide) by a ratio of 101.8 to 100, which is surprising, given how often they kill each other.

The Stats Say It All
If you’re thinking of taking street photos in different parts of the world, check out the demographics first. Not long ago, The Washington Post ran an article called “See where women outnumber men around the world (and why).”

The article shows a map of the world (which unaccountably excludes Australia) coloured in various shades of blue and pink. The blue areas (North Africa, Middle East, India and China) are those where men outnumber women. The pink areas (North America, Europe, South-East Asia) are where women outnumber men.

Notably, there’s a dark blue hotspot in and around Saudi Arabia (because of all the male guest-workers from overseas) and a red area covering the former Soviet Union countries (which have never fully restored the male/female balance since World War Two).

“Latvia, Lithuania, Armenia, Belarus, Russia, Ukraine and Estonia are among the countries with the largest female populations,” notes the article. In these countries, men’s life-span is considerably shorter than that of women. In Belarus, for example, it’s 65.3 years as opposed to 77 years for women (based on stats for 2015).

The fact is: in Russia and adjoining countries men die young because the culture of drinking alcohol — including cheap or imitation vodka — is especially destructive. Drink-related problems such as disease, road accidents and murders, have a marked influence on the statistics.

Going to Extremes
Of all countries, Australia has the most balanced proportion of men to women, there being 99.9 men for every hundred women. By contrast, the Caribbean island of Martinique has only 84.6 men for every 100 women; while, at the other end of the scale, the United Arab Emirates has 274 men for every hundred women, the most extreme gender imbalance in the world.

I’ve just googled “street photography” with United Arab Emirates, then with Martinique, to see if I can spot the gender imbalance. On a page called “Top 10 places to shoot in the UAE” I found several photos containing around fifty men and a dozen camels. There was not one woman in any of the shots, not even among the thousands of spectators watching Kushti Wrestling in Deira.

For Martinique the result was less conclusive, I found a tumblr site called Street Photography Martinque, but it seems to consist entirely of graffiti — with not a person (of either gender) in sight.

Heavy Lifting Takes Its Toll
With all the alcohol, heavy lifting, soldiering and killing (not to mention Kushti wrestling in Deira and spraying graffiti in Martinique), men have a tough life all around the world. Half the time they’re slaving to keep women happy.

My photo above, which I’ve called “More Long Stem Roses,” shows men hard at work in Bangkok’s flower market, shifting heavy loads of bouquets which will later make women swoon with joy.

OK, many of the flowers will be used for religious purposes, but we don’t normally associate elegant roses with back-breaking work.

There’s no doubt about it. It’s tough being a man, especially in a woman’s world.

Sharing That Warm, Cozy, Fuzzy Feeling

by

If the photo is warm, cozy and fuzzy there has to be a bear involved somewhere. In Bangkok a couple of years ago there was a craze for the teddy bear and it certainly made a change from all those elephants. Every shop had an assortment of bears — and so did one or two cafés and restaurants.

My featured image (above) shows what can be achieved by the judicious use of a bear. There’s nothing like a large teddy for making the lone diner feel less lonely — and therefore more likely to sit down and order something from the menu, perhaps honey on toast.

Sure, there are some disadvantages. Accommodating large bears tends to eat up the available space for customers, but at least there’s no danger of the customers themselves being eaten. The very existence of the teddy bear is symbolic of the fact that human beings have brought large chunks of nature under control. We haven’t quite mastered all the microbes, but bears — though fierce — are a pushover.

There can be little doubt that we all enjoy what I’ve called a “warm, cozy, fuzzy feeling” whenever we get the chance. I know it’s probably frowned upon in artistic and intellectual circles, where the artist or thinker is supposed to focus on topics that demonstrate greater social responsibility. But I would argue: it’s part of life, isn’t it? Why leave it out in street photography?

A Surfeit of Cuteness
Because everyone occasionally chases the warm, the cozy and the fuzzy, there’s been an epidemic of cuteness, emanating largely from Japan but then spreading throughout the entire civilised world: cute dogs, cute cats, cute children, cute everything. I’ve even seen cute crowd control barriers with rabbit ears (Japanese of course).

In real life, bears are not always cute, as such, but they can certainly look cuddly as long as they don’t stand on their hind legs and bare their teeth in an ugly snarl. Apply the epithet “teddy” — acquired when Theodore (“Teddy”) Roosevelt spared a small bear while on a mission to shoot its parents — and you have cuddly in spades; warmth, coziness and fuzziness “par excellence.” And with a bit of artistic license in the design, you can have cuteness too.

A Question of Taste
The question for the street photographer is this: how can you incorporate “warm-cozy-fuzzy” — the so-called “feelgood factor” — into your pictures without falling into sentimentality and triviality? Can you do it without resorting to cuteness, without showing poodles, persian cats or (especially) teddy bears? Is such a task impossible?

The triggers for “warm-cozy-fuzzy” are things like: enclosed spaces, familiar domestic items, human smiles, anything signifying warmth, conviviality, and togetherness. These triggers can go a long way in compensation for the absence of a bear, although they probably don’t go far enough.

In the image below, I’ve included most of the above-mentioned triggers: five people enjoying a cozy meal on Koh Kret (a river island in northern Bangkok). I took it after eating at the same restaurant, where customers can dangle their legs over the water while downing a few beers (beers! not bears).

That’s the trouble: it was I who was feeling “warm-cozy-fuzzy” but the image doesn’t really communicate the same message. The enamel cups look hard and uninviting, the pots are empty and no one’s smiling. The image simply doesn’t meet the spec.

Does the next one get any closer (below)? As you can see, it’s of a child asleep, cradled in mother’s arms, riding on a bus. Yet even this doesn’t seem to meet the criteria I’ve set. It doesn’t give you the absolute certainly of complete safety which is vitally necessary for the “warm-cozy-fuzzy” vibe. The baby’s head seems to be perilously close to the metal edge of the seat, despite the parent’s protective arm.

We really need more ingredients. Besides domesticity and enclosed spaces, we need to add some happy words — like “happy,” for example — together with some gesture of affection and a display of patience. Here they all are, in the photo below. The light was fading, but it’s the best I can do until I do better.

The Charm of Unexpected Encounters

by

One of my ambitions is take a candid photo of two other street photographers accidentally bumping into each other. I don’t suppose it will ever happen. If they’re any good, invisible street photographers are hard to spot, let alone capture “en masse” in a photo of your own.

Fortunately, there are plenty of other unexpected encounters to record on the street. Some of them, like my featured image (above), are not really encounters at all — they just look like they are because of the optical illusion that flattens three dimensions into two.

Celebrate the Launch
You can take these “ersatz” encounters at busy places like rail stations and bus stops where people are trying to move in opposite directions, getting on and getting off. In my photo it looks as though the man and the woman are enjoying an intimate moment. Her lips seem to be parted in desire or supplication; he, the quiet, silent type, looks down impassively, unmoved by her emotional pleading.

In fact, the two people don’t know each other at all — and are not communicating anything meaningful. The woman with the silver bag is probably talking to the lady in peach. I recall taking the picture and the whole incident (if you could call it an incident) happened in a blur of activity. It was just two people getting accidentally close, as we all do in similar situations.

I hope the image doesn’t disappoint when you discover it’s about nothing at all. The message is: it seems to be about something, but isn’t. There’s no meeting, no “launch,” nothing to celebrate. It’s just humdrum daily life, made tolerable by the sunlight, by a phone call to a friend (the woman in the doorway), or simply by reading the small print on the side of the bus (the lady in mauve).

The non-incident beside the bus is one grade below an encounter, which itself is one grade below a meeting. Encounters are informal, but meetings always have an element of formality however casual they may appear. They require people to acknowledge each other in some way, which is why formal politeness — however insincere — is such an essential part of social interaction.

Corner Incident
Frankly, other people can be a nuisance. I hate the way some people, especially in London, refuse to alter their path when they’re clearly on a trajectory for collision with you. I think: why should I jump into the gutter to avoid them? Can’t there be a little give and take on the street?

I take many of my photos in Thailand, where people are wonderfully adept at avoiding collisions on a busy street. They seem to be able to anticipate each other’s moves, the slightest move on your part being interpreted as an intention to go left or right — to be countered politely with a move on their part in the opposite direction. If westerners find it easy to walk along a busy sidewalk in Bangkok it’s because no one wants to be held responsible for the social “faux pas” of a collision.

Knowing this behavioural trait, I eagerly awaited the outcome of an inevitable collision when I saw two people approaching each other on a blind corner in Phuket. They were both walking very briskly. I had a clear view of the lady with the parasol heading in my direction, while a man in a red and black jacket was striding towards the same corner. A yellow barrier made avoidance difficult — and for the man there was clearly a danger from the sharp spokes of the lady’s umbrella.

I wanted to shout: “Watch out!” but it didn’t seem appropriate. So I took a picture instead. For once, circumstances conspired to telegraph the “decisive moment” a few seconds before it occurred. I was amazed at how adroitly the two strangers were able to take evasive action. Westerners would have collided. Instead, the old lady lifted up her umbrella in an instant and the man ducked and swerved out of her way. No feathers were ruffled.

Street photography is not just about appearances. It’s about behaviour, too. Sometimes, strangers are obliged to interact, even though they may have no wish to do so. When this happens you can capture their encounters, meetings, confrontations, and evasions in photos which reveal how people get along with each other in close proximity.

The charm of unexpected encounters adds wordless poetry to street photography.

When the Camera Is Near the Ground

by

When it comes to vantage-points, there’s the bird’s-eye view, normal eye-level, chest height, knee height and subterranean. For the last of these categories you need to be emerging from somewhere underground, like a tube station or a pedestrian subway.

Maybe subterranean is a bit extreme. It can yield good results, but I usually wait until I’ve nearly reached the top of the stairs before taking a shot. I usually get a reasonably good image because I’ve had time to think about it on the way up.

The Featured Image
I’d like to dedicate my featured image (above) to a Chinese gentleman who was talking on his mobile phone in our local park. Without his unintended help this picture would not exist.

There are two paths in our local park which run more or less parallel, one being a couple of metres lower than the other. I was walking along the lower path when the man with the phone starting shouting in Cantonese at the top of his voice. I hastened my step in an attempt to get out of earshot — and as I did so I found myself drawing alongside a woman pushing a pram.

It’s possible “the busy young mum” of my photo was herself trying to escape the bellowing voice behind us. She was moving rapidly and would have disappeared had I not been walking at the same speed.

Our paths began to converge and as soon as I could get a clear shot I grabbed the picture you see. It looks like it was taken from “ankle height,” but that’s the effect of the low elevation of my position. It’s made a huge difference to the quality of the image.

The Analysis
What can I say about it? I think it speaks for itself: a young woman in charge of a baby, hurrying across town, talking on the phone, shopping tied to the handle of the pram — but can she really be a “young mum,” or, with such a trim figure, is she perhaps the “au pair”? It doesn’t matter.

What matters is the low angle which places her head and shoulders against the sky. What matters is the way the early summer sun “makes” rather than breaks the image. The woman’s naturally pale skin looks perfectly congruous in this situation, as she walks towards the light. The white gables of the house on the right and the white penthouse on the left provide blocks of whiteness on either side to keep her company.

I think the image has an iconic quality that would be missing if I’d taken it at eye level while standing alongside the subject. Was I thinking of William Egglestone and his famous photo of the child’s tricycle? Not when I took the shot. The viewpoint may be the same, but I’ve included dynamic action which is deliberately absent in Egglestone’s picture. Yet somehow the iconic quality remains. I think it must have something to do with the angle!

The Inside Illusion
I was approaching the top of a flight of stairs when I took the image you see below. You could almost classify this one as “subterranean,” but I think it’s from around “knee height,” slightly above the viewpoint of the featured image at the top.

Again, the angle makes the image — because the girls’ heads and shoulders are seen against the beautiful curved roof of the building behind them. But there’s another factor at work here, too: an optical illusion.

The low angle combined with foreshortening of the image (courtesy of the 40mm lens) have given the impression that this is an interior shot. It’s not. The building is forty yards away and there’s a huge open space and clear sky in between.

Because it’s an exterior shot, taken on a bright day, the subjects are brightly illuminated in a way that would be impossible indoors. Adding to the illusion, the iron railings to the left and right are suggestive of an open doorway, possibly part of the same building. In fact, they’re across the street and completely separate from the enclosed area you can see.

If the picture has any quality, it exists because of the illusion I’ve described. You could look at it for a minute or two without realising its secret. But, of course, the secret is given away — ultimately — by the windswept hair of the girl in the leather jacket. Of course, it has to be outside! I’ve put a clue in the title by calling the photo “Windswept.”

Keep Looking Up
I greatly prefer the shots I get by looking up at the subject from below to those I get from looking down. That’s not to say looking down doesn’t give you an interesting perspective — it does — but it’s much less flattering to the subject.

For every shot I take looking down I’ll take ten looking up. I think I’ll keep it that way. If pessimists look down and optimists look up I guess this makes me an optimist. And you really need to be an optimist as a street photographer.

Off to One Side — Making Unusual Compositions

by

As I continue to write these blog posts — and I have a small stockpile of articles as well as those already on the site — I’m beginning to realise the blog is mainly about composition.

After all, composition is surely the key element in street photography. It ranks above content, whereas in photojournalism the opposite is true. It also ranks above technical perfection because a brilliant, technically imperfect street photo can still be utterly compelling. Ultimately, composition is key because the subject itself is not “composed” (i.e. arranged) by the photographer, but discovered and torn from the muddled, ever-changing reality of the street.

Given that composition is so important, it’s incumbent on the street photographer to explore every possibility. The death of street photography will occur when everyone goes for the easy option and says: “Do this, it works.”

Placing a single subject in the middle of the image is a ploy that “works,” but it’s scarcely pushing any boundaries or exploring new ideas. I don’t think we’ve yet exhausted the encyclopedia of possibilities in street photo composition — and I’m determined to create some new entries.

For example, take the idea of “off to one side,” in which a vital element of the composition is on the extreme left or the extreme right of the rectangle. Is such an idea acceptable? Could it “work”?

To answer this I’m submitting a couple of pictures in which the most interesting content is off to one side, in the hope that someone will see the value of this unconventional approach.

The Green Truck
I took my featured image (above) in Hong Kong, while walking down a long, narrow and extremely commercial street that was clogged with delivery vehicles. For once, I decided to “work the scene” because men were going back and forth between the truck and the store behind me. Eventually, I guessed, they’d make a decent composition.

In fact, they didn’t. What I was trying to get was a picture with some great “layers” (which I’ll discuss at some length in a two-part feature), arguably the most elaborate and rewarding style of composition in street photography. With layers you have successive planes of interest in the composition, with good focus maintained from the foreground to the background.

In my image (I’ve called it “Green Truck”) there are certainly planes of interest, but nothing lively in the foreground. At first I thought this was disappointing, but now I no longer mind. The image is all about the little girl on the right who is studying the scene with interest. She looks as concerned as I was, hoping it will all work out for the best.

Of course, it’s all very well to have a charming cameo on one side of the picture, but it has to be counterbalanced in some way, otherwise the composition simply won’t work as a satisfying image. My picture is counterbalanced by the five men over to the left, all huddled in a group around a meat stall. Unconventionally, the centre of the photo is occupied by the side of a truck. Sorry about that!

No, I’m only joking. I really think the composition is successful — despite being initially filed in my “You Must Be Kidding” folder. It works because the green truck has an antique charm, being painted in British racing green and looks as if it may have served for many years when Hong Kong was prospering under British rule. It works because one side-flap on the truck is down, adding more counterbalancing weight to the left of the picture. Linking it all together is the young man who is leaning nochalantly up against the back of the truck, checking his mobile phone.

Holding the Centre Ground
When I suggest that you can place active elements at the sides of the image I’m not suggesting you leave the centre to its own devices. It has to be strong. As the poet W.B. Yeats wrote: ” Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold…” It’s a fundamental principal that — in a conceptual sense — there must be a controlling “centre” to keep everything in order.

The centrality of control, however, is entirely conceptual. For example, our brain controls our body but it’s not in the centre of it, it’s up at the top. Wars are fought at the frontline where battles take place, but organisation is done behind the scenes, back at headquarters.

Bear those thoughts in mind when you look at my next image (below). I’ve called it “Reaching for Chopsticks” because the woman on the left has a plate of food in front of her and is about to grab a pair of chopsticks in order to eat it. The other customers are already enjoying their meal, so it’s this lady who, by virtue of her outstretched arm, become a focal point of interest…off to one side.

There’s something clinical and canteen-like about this restaurant in Bangkok. Most of the diners are alone, and all facing towards us. Much of the place is covered in white tiles and the tables and chairs are all made of stainless steel like the kitchen equipment. Tables are clearly numbered and each one is equipped with separate metal holders for chopsticks. Indeed, the restaurant seems to have been designed entirely with the convenience of the owner in mind. There’s no doubt about who’s in charge.

I can get away with placing the customer at the side of the image because the centre is being held by the woman with the tasteful, old-fashioned blouse. She’s pointing in a commanding manner, in contrast with the woman beside her — clearly an employee — who checks dutifully if everything is “tickety-boo” (as people said in World War One).

The big circular fan is so prominent it brings our attention back to the centre where the two figures with their backs towards us are framed by the outline of the distant kitchen.

Yes, I’m aware the image is unconventional, but I know it works as a composition. In fact, I’m every bit as confident as the lady with the raised finger.

Is Anything Off-Limits for the Street Photographer?

by

A few years back, an enterprising student posted a blog that went viral on the Internet: “Shit My Photography Professor Says”. It had such gems in it as: “Don’t take pictures in graveyards. What are you even doing there?” and “Ugh. Just by looking around, I think none of you should procreate.”

Part of the joy of reading the blog was in trying to figure out the professor. He sometimes seemed inspired, at other times crazy. I didn’t always agree with him (I profoundly disagree with his idea that the photographer has to “hurt” the viewer) but I was certainly struck by his list of off-limit subjects.

“Didn’t I say no bums? This is someone who does not seem to share your white supremacist views.” And my No.1 favourite: “Don’t you dare go to Chinatown. Leave the f*****g Chinese alone.”

Did the professor have a point? Or was he being unnecessarily censorious if we bear in mind that students are just beginning to explore the world? It seems absurd to shut them off from half of it. Yes! Half of it!

No Fire Hydrants
Although the professor said: “You can photograph EVERYTHING,” he was quick to add: “Seriously, you can take photos of anything your little heart desires…except: homeless people, fire hydrants, old people, Chinese people, children, African Americans, street performers, Italians — and absolutely no nudity.”

I think I understand why the professor sees the world in these terms. He doesn’t think that art should be easy — and he’s right, up to a point. In the American context, a lot of the subjects in his off-limits list are sitting ducks. The Chinese trade mostly within Chinatown, street performers anchor themselves to one place for the day, and fire hydrants and gravestones are not going anywhere fast.

Most of these subjects are photogenic; all are easy to find; and few of them care if you snap them. But will they take you closer to becoming a photographic artist? Not in the professor’s view.

A privileged white student points an expensive camera at a sleeping black vagrant and the professor feels nothing but contempt for the student. But maybe the student’s intentions are honourable? Maybe he or she wants to show the plight of the homeless — a subject that’s often addressed by younger photographers.

I’m more open-minded than the professor. I would never talk down to students. I don’t have a political agenda. I don’t feel guilty about being white or owning a house. I once shared a rental with ten friendly Jamaicans and I love to take pictures in Bangkok’s Chinatown because it contains life, movement, colour, people of all ages — including old people and the occasional Indian.

Perhaps one reason why the professor warned his students away from certain subjects is that he wanted them to avoid clichés. Homeless people, Chinese traders, old people — too many photos of these subjects lack the spark of originality. They’ve almost become a commodity, like those uninspired stock photos that are used for illustrating newspaper articles. “Can you give me twenty old people, half a dozen homeless and couple of Chinese, please?” (This is not the professor speaking. It’s me trying to make a point.)

No Elderly People
My featured photo (at the top) is of an elderly person walking past Selfridges in London. I didn’t take it because he was old, but because he was stylish. In fact, I don’t think of old people as being “off limits.” You can’t, when you’re my age. If I listened to the professor I’d never be able to take a selfie!

So is any subject legitimately off-limits?

Yes. If, by taking a photograph, you collude with someone who’s doing evil — that’s off-limits. Why? Because you’re placing the viewer in the same position. You’re making the viewer collude in the evil.

So, professor, I guess you feel you belong to a society that oppresses homeless people and you don’t want to collude in their oppression. You have every right to take this view, but it’s not one to foist on other people. Within western societies there are many cultures and sub-cultures — in fact, so many that I think you can legitimately stand apart from “society” as a whole and view it dispassionately through a camera.

With the one exception I’ve stated, surely every subject is fair game?

Walk Around or Stand and Wait?

by

What’s the best policy for taking street photos? Should you walk around, actively looking for pictures, or is it better to stand in a promising location and wait for the right subjects to show up?

Personally, I like to walk — or at least I combine walking with occasional spells of waiting. Other photographers are more static. In a busy city like London they’re prepared to wait and let the world pass by. It always does, eventually.

When I walk, I sometimes come across other street photographers lurking in the shadows. We might nod to each other or even have a brief chat, but then I’m off again and the other one remains behind. It would appear I’m in the minority when it comes to choosing between Walk and Don’t Walk.

The Urge to Walk
First of all let me say I’m not a great fan of the French word “flaneur.” It’s become synonymous with “street photographer,” which is absurd if most of us don’t do very much walking. It means “stroller” but also “idler,” “saunterer” and “lounger.” I wish the French would make up their minds! I guess a Texan would talk about “moseying,” which is a whole lot more menacing, if every bit as relaxed.

It’s the relaxed connotation that offends me most when people mention “flaneur.” I’m not in an idle state of mind when I take street photos — quite the opposite. My head is buzzing with all the possibilities. “What if that woman pauses in front of the fountain?” “Will that guy put the dog down and look in my direction?” “Is my shutter speed fast enough for those skateboarders?”

I don’t mind if the French stroll and saunter their way towards their goal, I’m running full tilt at mine. Yes, I’m prepared to let life unfold gracefully in front of the lens, but I certainly won’t wait forever. I want to look, see the picture, take the shot, move on — that’s my philosophy.

The Better Strategy
For me, walking is the better strategy. It’s all about keeping in a positive frame of mind. By changing the scene, by varying the tempo, I convince myself that I’m getting closer to obtaining a great, candid shot which will make the entire day worthwhile. If I stand and wait for twenty minutes, I become gloomy and restless. I feel as though I can hear time passing, which is literally true when Big Ben chimes the quarter-hour (OK, it’s currently switched off for renovation, but you get the idea).

I think the street photographer’s mind needs to be fed with a constant flow of new possibilities. Ours is a creative process, but it’s one that involves selection rather than invention. The more possibilities you give to your creative mind, the more adept it becomes at handling them.

Or Maybe Not
By walking you can change the scene, the background, the light, the atmosphere and even the feeling of your photography from one shot to the next. If you’re looking for a coherent set of images, it may not be the right strategy for your work, even though it works for me.

Some street photographers like to “work the scene” by lingering to take a whole bunch of pictures from different angles, moving in for close-ups and generally covering the incident (or non-incident) as if they were journalists reporting a story.

If you’ve found a dynamic subject that offers the potential for multiple shots, by all means linger and work the scene. If people are playing or dancing in the street, you’ll get better shots if you study their movements and take more than one photo.

One one occasion in Thailand (see my featured shot, above) I paused in front of a store where men were unloading lots of goods. I liked the dynamism of the scene and took a few shots — which eventually earned me a long, hostile stare from the female supervisor. I’m glad I stayed to work the scene: her glare makes the picture.

On a similar theme, there’s the image you see below. Did I pause for that one? No, it was a “one-off.” I was just walking past.

The Beauty of the Transient Shot
I favour a cinematic style of shooting in which I, the cameraman, as well as they, the subjects, are in constant motion. When I shoot in this way I feel as though I’m in tune with the rhythm of the city, even though I’m still an outsider — an observer rather than a full participant.

The result of working in this way is to get images which suggest that life goes on beyond the frame, beyond what the image is showing us. In this way I can give a sense of something greater than the fragment of reality which I set before the onlooker. I’m hoping that the viewer of the image will continue the action imaginatively, or think about what lies outside the edges of the picture.

Here’s a dusty, urban scene (below) on which to finish. A group of people have alighted from a bus and they set off on foot towards their destination, two of them shielding their eyes against the sun. In a moment or two the bus will pull away, revealing the scene behind it; the people will have gone. Only the scooter and helmet will remain, waiting for their owner to put them into motion.

There will be nothing left for me to photograph. I must continue my walk.

Finding Still Life Compositions on the Street

by

I’ve written previously about the absence of people and the traces they leave behind. It was in a blog post called “Can Your Street Photo Be Devoid of People?” a question to which my answer was a cautious “yes.”

This time I want to look more closely at making a still life composition from the jumble of objects in the street. Apart from any other consideration, it’s a useful exercise which can prove to be helpful in regular street photography: when people are the main subject.

I was intrigued by the sight of a wrought-iron fence being gradually enveloped by the roots of the giant fig-tree (featured image, above). Oddly enough, the fence looked as though it had been painted quite recently, by which I mean in the last ten years or so. Perhaps someone else had found it charming and decided to take care of the tree’s friend (or lunch) by painting over the rust. You can see a dab of white paint on the tree itself: a clue as to its recent attention.

The other trace of human intervention is the existence of the colourful ribbon, placed there as a sign of special respect for this individual tree. Nature itself has added the leaves, while, all around, life goes on at a furious pace in the middle of Bangkok.

I spotted the composition from across the street. The top of the white post is the central target, but there’s enough interest in the frame, especially in the diagonals and arrows of the fence and the colours of the ribbon, to draw the eye to other parts of the frame. Contrast comes from the twisting lines of the roots up against the straight lines of the fence that nonetheless curls in the approved western style at the bottom of the image.

I much prefer this image to others I’ve taken of similar subjects, especially of the famous “Buddha in the Tree” in Ayutthaya. Wonderful though it is, the latter lacks the contrast of colour and form, and the deep shade makes it hard to create a great picture without a lot of post-processing.

Finding the Improbable
Walking through a Chinese temple, by the side of the Chao Praya in Bangkok, I was looking for an original composition: something which made an unexpected item the main subject, rather than an obvious vase, chalice or sculpture.

The bottle of standard cooking oil, used for fuelling the burners, was ideal. In the context of the holy sculptures it seemed completely out of place, at least on an intellectual or devotional level. Yet it fits into the composition perfectly, its golden colour blending with the gold of the sculpted figures in the background. I like the “everyday” connotation it brings to the image, which I’ve called “Holy Cooking Oil.”

When the Composition is Ready-Made
If I come across a composition that requires no skill or imagination to capture, I usually think twice before taking a photo. This one (below) I couldn’t resist.

On what looks like a free-standing sarcophagus in the middle of urban wasteland is a graffiti-like poster of a young man with a computer keyboard who appears to be trapped inside. He glares at us defiantly, his head emerging from a flat-panel display.

In my defence I can claim to have had the sense to notice its potential, take it from a good angle — directly from the front, centrally positioned, with straight verticals. I guess I can claim it as an “objet trouvé,” much like the “found objects” picked up by Marcel Duchamp and Kurt Schwitters in the early twentieth century. It may even please those, like the members of the widespread Stuckist group, who are opposed to “anti-art” (like found objects) but are in favour of “anti-anti-art.” You know it makes sense.

Keeping It Symmetrical
In the image above I’ve contrasted the symmetry of the object with the assymetrical background. The splashes of blue and red help to tie it all together. The same is true of the next picture (below), where the gold-coloured lamp post gleams in the evening light against the tower blocks of Hong Kong. This time, the out-of-focus lights help to balance the image, while the hint of an arrow at bottom left pulls against the weight of the large building on the right.

When I took the shot I was confident it would work. The light on the lamp post illuminates the tiny stickers, including the one of the rising phoenix. Although you can’t actually see any people, they’re everywhere in the image — behind the walls, cooking, eating, talking, preparing for sleep, only to rise again in the morning like the phoenix from the fire.