This site just came back online after an extended down period. As such you won’t find much current blogging. Given time constraints of my academic obligations I don’t blog very often anymore, but I have kept a few posts here and there that I find still matter. I also have posted a few entries related to photography, artistic impulses, iphoneography, etc., at my iPhoneography site: Foto-Rhetoric. I might post a few kibbles and bit here and there as the muse strikes me. In the meantime, enjoy the images, and if you’re up for it, drop me a note and let me know what you think.

Walking with a Camera

Street photography is
ambulatory and peripatetic,
which is not to say pretty pathetic
though it is that too
when it evokes the
emotion of the dingy streets
it loves to walk,
temporarily and momentarily
a witness
chased by shadows
into that alley where
flirting freely with the instantly impermanent
–I wonder if those two will…?
fleetingness of the moment,
which, though recorded,
as all subjects are,
with inimitable singularity, both
always and never
ahead of time,
–Who needs a Leica?
remains bewitched,
bothered, bewildered and
ironically bemused all at once-
ready to find the urban hope
picturesquely revealed
In the least likely places
–Leap the puddle already!
What better way to allude to
the illusive nature of the
hope that slinks surreptitiously
down the street
with a finger on the shutter?

– Nacho Cordova

A quick glance through various photography forums often reveals a category of “candid” images of people walking, pretty women, people in festivals, etc. The overall impetus for such “candid” photography seems to be the casual snap of something the photographer found intriguing at the moment, or the adventure of shooting in public. There is nothing necessarily wrong with that (although some images tend toward the voyeuristic), and many of those images can be quite compelling. Unfortunately, some posters in those forums tend to conflate such “candid” photography with Street photography, eliding any difference between the two practices.

Let us take a simple definition of Street Photography: “Street photography is a type of documentary photography that features subjects in candid situations within public places such as streets, parks, beaches, malls, political conventions and other settings (Wikipedia).” That definition is minimally helpful. I read that and picture my mom with a disposable camera taking pictures of kids in park benches all day long – not knowing much about what she is doing – but somehow falling squarely within the boundaries of the definition.

Part of the confusion stems from the word candid itself. Street photography has historically followed a documentary style, showing the subject “as is,” in the moment of capture. As part of a “documentary” practice, street photographers sought to represent a moment of life with a sense of veracity and authenticity. Within that understanding, the candid nature of the image was understood to add to the veracity of the moment by assuring that the image was not fabricated or choreographed by the photographer. Thus, the candidness of street photography referred to a fundamental principle traditionally shared by straight, documentary, photojournalistic, street, and other forms of reportage. Such photography, as Martha Rosler explained, “points us to a way of making photographs in which evident artifice, construction and manipulation are avoided as a matter of principle.” Why avoided as a matter of principle? Because the presumption behind these genres was of a photographic practice that would capture facticity and veracity, somehow representing (although this is highly contestable) truth.

Such an understanding does not mean that the photographs are unmediated, or that selection, reflection, and deflection somehow do not play a part in the photographic process. Rather the understanding was that the photographer resisted attempts to choreograph or extensively orchestrate the subject. It is in that sense that the term “candid” might apply.

But, as the saying goes, there’s more to it than that. Street Photography evokes a kind of social commentary, with its own history and politics, and as such it is not just a point-and-shoot for whatever-comes-up kind of practice. As a practice it has a strong vision behind it, tends to be reflective, often a kind of reportage that takes place with a well captured shot. The quickness of it, that is the “lift the camera and shoot in the thick of things,” does not mean that artistic imagination and reflection have not taken place, but that much of it happens before looking through the viewfinder and pressing the shutter. The skilled street photographer learns to recognize situations, anticipate behavior, knows the scene/place(s), or at the very least understands what is visually compelling given various elements that converge in the moment.

In short, an artistic or creative vision and photographic imagination is an essential part of Street Photography. Street photography requires mental preparation and creative vision. Excellent Street photography reveals strong artistic judgment, intriguing juxtapositions, an urban perspective that is frequently about the spatiality of the subject and the “eye” of the photographer for seeing the moment deeply. Street photographers very consciously deal in texture, patterns, rhythm, contrast, form, angles, light (value), space, and the dynamic tension of the elements in the scene.

Street photography then is, not merely taking shots in public, but deploying a creative vision that reads and captures slices of what we call public life. It might be motivated by such persistent questions as: How do our daily lives unfold? What social forces pull us together or separate us? How might the built environment organize our living patterns? What are the implications of particular interactions between us humans and our living spaces, contexts, etc? Probably many more, and better, questions than those.  Sometimes the questions are not conscious or explicitly present at all, just a glimmer of response to something the photographer sees (that later we can analyze to our heart’s content).

A few intriguing questions for me when viewing street photography are: how does the photographer as “flaneur” (Baudelaire’s “man about town,” a witness to life in the urban jungle) pull together a measure of order from the delicious chaos of urban life? What constitutes the everydayness (or not) of life in a community, or the moment, that the photographer captures with a special vision and brings to the viewer’s attention? A more general question for all photography for me remains: how might such photography reveal the world of the moment, the world that the photographer sees (one that might not be altogether evident for me).

I happen to like street photography that juxtaposes elements that raise such issues, that calls life in the making into some sort of question, that challenges our “taken-for-granted” understanding about public life and space(s), that highlight the often blurry boundary between public and private, and which make us stop and pay attention by giving us what Kenneth Burke called “perspective by incongruity.”

Hence, street photography aims to be revelatory. It does not aim to be voyeuristic. It is a genre with a history and an artistic ethos. The nature of the straight image itself as “candidly taken” is not enough for us to classify it in some essential way as street photography. Photography of any kind is a practiced performance, and as such it fits within a context, institutional and larger cultural norms, and within particular communities of interpretation.

Much of my artistic photography centers on threshold moments because they have the capacity to open up and reveal worlds to us, changing our way of thinking, of seeing, and reshaping our lives. Experiencing those moments requires a mindful disposition, a way to look deeply and be present so that we remain open to the fraying edges or intersections in everyday life where such thresholds appear.  I seek those moments because they also hold great promise for feeling and seeing how everything is interconnected.

The primary way in which this sensibility is expressed in my photography is through images that challenge our assumptions and understandings and stop us to reflect on just “what else is going on.” In short, I want viewers not just to feel, but to think “otherwise.” For me this work does not require manipulation of images as in collage or montage work. It does require presence, an eye for the grace with which different moments of life come together, and the study of how we may “see beyond the veil” and try to convey just that moment of revelation. This artistic inclination is driven more by my Zen humanist background than by any past great masters or intricate philosophies of art.

Thus, much of my photography is inspired by such edgework and notions of interconnectedness and I dive deeply into the process so that I can bring viewers the “duende“ of those moments.

I would say that mine is an ecumenical approach: I shoot what moves me, what activates my photographic imagination in ways that make me see interconnectedness, something present that still escapes us and that we glimpse around the edges of our vision, gently. At present I am exploring how this vision plays out in the technographic efforts made possible through the iPhone.

I do encourage seeking articles and resources that treat mindfulness in the process of photography. Of course there is no need to become a Zen master in order to be good at photography. However, mindfulness might very well help you become a better photographer (paying attention, noticing, etc.), and it can certainly help you feel more at ease and calm.

This image, captured with my iPhone speaks to me of just such moments, such imprints.

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This is my son riding his bike at a skate/bike park. It is a touching moment for me. His first try in a skate park. He was full of daring, but also fear. Older kids were doing all sorts of hotshot gonzo tricks, he had recently fallen, I was not the best at providing encouragement (I wanted him to wait until he had better equipment and was ready! — I was just afraid)… but off he went, and he tried, and did ride around a bit and did things he’d never done before, with Dad present being a dork. And at this very moment of the shot he rode out into this incandescence of the sun, his world opening up, his heart on his sleeve, but probably full of the freshness and richness of action, of self-discovery, of boundaries crossed.

I imagine this as a threshold moment for him, even if he doesn’t realize it. It was full of presence — for me certainly, but I imagine also for him. I’d like to think that this will be one of those imprints for him. The crystallization of a moment in time and place, a space in childhood where he will dwell later even if just as a memory whizzing by at odd moments. And perhaps he won’t recognize it as that important, but the sun will be in his eyes, and his mind will bring this blaze of light, the feel of capturing your balance, and continuing strong — and his heart will gladden even if for a second, he will right himself, and go forward.

When I hear or read folks talk about style most often they mean a consistency in vision (and thus expression of that vision) that emerges with practice, craft, and photographic imagination. Style as revealed in what we *do* to an image (or how we process it) is a different take.

But, If style is an expression of vision (vision being perhaps a combination of aesthetic insight with photographic imagination) and such style being emergent and ending in a certain consistency, then post-processing work hopefully is a way to flesh out, to give presence to, that vision and style.

I think of post-processing as only part of that equation though, not the whole. There is something in the work, the moment, our connection to it and the way we see, that inspires us to draw it out to a particular degree when processing. But the other stuff has to be there.

I often notice particular tendencies in my photography, and I know that I like to shoot certain subjects in a particular way. In other words, I have a vision for certain themes and subjects, and they inform how I might see and read moments. But that is partial, and I would not yet call it a style. I also resist stylization, so as to prevent any boxing-in that it might lead to. Frequently, I’m hyper aware of how particular influences might be shaping my photography too much.

In that sense I often think of style as walking a tightrope — sometimes we can walk it quite well, but it requires a careful balance of intricate elements, a subtlety of handling, and a mindful disposition.

Last Summer I was in Washington D.C. shooting the Lyrical Ambush gathering in Dupont Circle. Wonderful public event designed as artistic venue for expressing frustration with government policies, raising consciousness about social injustice, etc. It was quickly organized and carried out at the fountain park in the middle of Dupont Circle. There were various folks speaking, reciting beat poetry, playing instruments, and otherwise being creative and giving free rein to their inspiration and imagination.

As I was walking around shooting, I heard some members of the audience gathered say that they wish they could somehow participate, but that they didn’t have any talent. Oh, that certainly awakened a pet peeve, but most importantly — it was self-defeating before they even had a chance to explore what avenues they had for participation and self-expression. It seemed to me that they missed the ethos of the event, an ethos that was perhaps most clearly and succinctly stated in this statement in chalk:

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What more did they need? It is too easy to impose limit upon ourselves. That’s not to say that one can just wing everything, or that careful consideration, expertise, or equipment are not needed for excellence. It is however, to assert that the technical side of things is one aspect, and that much emerges from our willingness and inclination to be present and use what we have at our disposal — a central component being our imagination.

I always encourage students to tell their story with what they have at the moment. It doesn’t have to be the final version, it might not even be the story to tell. But nothing gets their creative “juices” flowing more than finding themselves on site and having to figure out how to compose and envision, imagine, and explore creatively, how to express what they need in diverse ways with whatever is available to them in the moment. That usually ignites their passion for the subject, and the project, even more.

Try it. Go for a walk and stop in a street corner, be present, how would you tell the story of a particular event or incident? In how many different ways? What are your tools for telling that story? If only standard and traditional plot arrangements come to mind, consider how you might re-story the dominant elements of that plot line. What other voices would you feature? If all you have is your camera phone — how might that perspective mediate the plot? Better yet, bring a friend and switch camera phones. What key scenic elements would you include? From what, or whose, perspective could you tell the story in non-traditional ways? The point is not always the final product in this kind of exercise.

“Start doing the things you think should be done, and start being what you think society should become. Do you believe in free speech? Then speak freely. Do you love the truth? Then tell it. Do you believe in an open society? Then act in the open. Do you believe in a decent and humane society? Then behave decently and humanely.” ~ Adam Michnik