The Decisive Moment that Lead to the Decisive Moment

Henri Cartier-Bresson (1908 – 2004), is considered a pioneer of photojournalism, though he himself claimed to be a surrealist photographer; it was Robert Capa who suggested to him that if he wanted to get any photography work, then he should call himself a photojournalist.  Cartier-Bresson is revered by many modern street photographers, and rightly so. What many don’t know is that as a young man he spent some time in Africa, where he got into a bit of trouble, made heaps of sketches and then, finally something happened that changed his life and the history of photography too.

Cartier-Bresson was trained as a painter, and that really was his passion and way of recording and interpreting the world around him. In a sense he wouldn’t necessarily describe himself as a “photographer”; he said that he turned to photography simply as a way to ‘testify with a quicker instrument than a brush’. But what led him to this change, to the picking up of a camera?  Well, still in Africa, he saw a photo in a magazine. This photo:

Three Boys at Lake Tanganyika (1930) Martin Munkacsi 

Seeing this extraordinary photo by Hungarian photographer  Martin Munkacsi, Cartier-Bresson understood immediately that, ‘photography could reach eternity through the moment’. He realised the potential of the camera to capture the ‘decisive moment’.

So, that was that. He bought a camera and the rest, as so many say, is history. Using a 35mm camera with a standard lens, allowed Cartier-Bresson to work quickly and unobtrusively.  The title of his book, Images à la Sauvette (changed for US publication to The Decisive Moment) means images on the sly; in other words, candid photography. I am not fond of the word sly, but that's just me. We know what it means really don't we?

Cartier-Bresson insisted on strong composition. He used the viewfinder to frame subjects precisely, preferring to crop the image in the camera (though, contrary to popular belief, he was no purist and cropped images if it suited his needs or what he wanted to say).

He shot in Black and White because he regarded the camera as simply a ‘sketchbook’. It's as simple as this. Perhaps this point may be a contribution to the black and white versus colour debate in street photography? Something to think about at least. For Bresson the choice was not one of aesthetics; it was merely a practical choice that met with his requirements and purpose.

Anyway, I digress. This simple but lovely photograph of a moment of joy being expressed by three young boys was a decisive moment which prompted this great artist to produce not only some of the finest photographs ever made, but also to actually shape the history of photography and especially street photography. 

Or, is this photo really of a very ordinary moment that, with the keen observation of the artist who senses when all the elements just come together to form a harmonious whole, is made decisive because it has been recorded? Makes you think of all those unrecorded moments doesn't it?

Once More Unto the Beach Paul's Pictures Does Go: About Tidal Pools (AKA Rock Baths)

Being Seen in the Tidal Pool (Sydney May 2015)

Tidal pools, rock baths, ocean pools and bogey holes. These are just some of the names used to describe the outdoor swimming pools built on or into the coastline in Australia. Not common in other states, most of these pools are to be found in the eastern state of New South Wales, and especially in Sydney. Oh, and some people just call them swimming pools, or simply The pool. And bogey hole? Well that's easy: it refers to the less formal, less "built" holes in the rocks in which people like to swim. 

And people do indeed like to swim in these rock baths (that's what Sydneysiders call them, and as I am at least for now a local, I'm allowed to use the name) in great numbers and all year round as well. 

Kate Rew who founded the Outdoor Swimming Society in 2006 in the UK and went on to write a bestselling book called Wild Swim: River, Lake, Lido and Sea: The Best Places to Swim Outdoors in Britain (Guardian Books, London. ISBN 978-0-85265-093-6) defines wild swimming as:

swimming in any environment less subject to human control than an indoor public pool

She would approve of the multitude of places in Sydney where one can indulge in wild swimming in relative safety. The rock baths are open to the sea in all its moods (and they do front directly onto the huge expanse of the Pacific Ocean which can throw up its share of big waves and winds); swimmers are exposed to the sun, the sky and are right near or even on, the beach. The saltwater which washes into the pools (and has been known to wash swimmers out of the pools) is stimulating and healthy. 

And they are not only recreational: many of the pools host amateur swimming clubs which hold how to swim classes, social events and swimming carnivals. Water Polo was for a long time played in many of these pools, and diving competitions were held, though diving boards have been removed in more recent times as fear of law suits and insurance claims have scared local authorities into submission.

The pools are credited with being the cradle of the surf lifesaving movement in Australia. The skills acquired in the early days (rock baths began operating in the mid to late 19th Century) from activities such as diving, endurance swimming and in water sports like Water Polo, were seen as essential to the development of techniques used to save lives in rough waters

As surprising as it might sound to many, until relatively recently mixed open air bathing on beaches in Australia was forbidden. There were designated hours for men and for women and this rule was usually strictly enforced. In the late 19th and early 20th century a few entrepreneurs began to open pools which, though still segregated, were open all the time.

The pool in the image above is called Wylie's Baths at Coogee and it started life as a men only (the women had a pool at the other end of the beach which is more of a natural formation and is still there as well) pay as you go pool in 1907. Over time as beach bathing became more popular, there was a corresponding growing acceptance of mixed bathing (mainly due to safety concerns), Then, at a date I have been unable to determine, Wylie's became the fist ocean pool to offer mixed and family bathing. 

Ocean pools, rock baths, and even some of the bogey holes, are seen as relatively safe, family friendly venues for recreational swimming, as places to meet friends and even learn to swim. They have not only been a part of Australia beach culture for many decades, but have been pivotal in the very development of that culture. We also owe a great deal to these pools for their role in the development of the wonderful system of surf lifesaving clubs: According to the Surf Life Saving site, 615,000 people have been saved from drowning since this almost entirely volunteer movement started up in 1907 (that breaks down to about 17 lives saved every single day for 107 and a bit years Think about that.) 

Today, even as the temperature hovered only in the high teens (centigrade) Wylie's was still attracting swimmers, though I have to say, most people I saw could better be defined as poolside chatters (most fully equipped with coffee cups), with only a few actually jumping in.

In Every Face There are Stories

Do Not Forsake Me (Melbourne Australia June 2011

Everybody's face tells you about the society they live in and what they're feeling inside.  Faces are maps.

Sue Ford  (1943-2009)

Last year I had the good fortune to come across an exhibition of work by the important Australian photographer Sue Ford. It isn't often that I go to photographic exhibitions, which I guess sounds a bit odd coming from a photographer keen on learning and developing. The truth is, I find them to be, on the whole, boring. They rarely seem to me to be overly revealing of either the photographer(s) featured or of their work. Oftentimes they are simply marketing exercises put together with the view to what will sell.

The Sue Ford exhibition (held at the National Gallery of Victoria and billed as a major retrospective of "her artistic life and career") was a surprising exception. I came away feeling I had discovered an important artist and that I had learned about her work. I felt strongly that I had been shown the artist's inspirations, motivations and methods; I had a real sense of what she was trying to say. And I felt I had been allowed to see a fair representation of her prolific and varied output. I left the exhibition feeling renewed and excited. While Ford wasn't a street photographer, there was something familiar about her work and her aesthetic that I really resonated with and which I am sure has had an impact on my own work and thinking.

Just to give you a bit of an idea of who Sue Ford was and what she was about, here's the bio from that show:

Sue Ford was a pioneer of Australian photography, and one of the most important practitioners to emerge in the wave of 1970s feminist photographers. This retrospective exhibition celebrates her artistic life and career. It brings together key photographs, digital prints, collages and films created over an almost fifty-year period, as well as important archival materials.Ford’s work was both personal and political, and shows a fascination with private, shared and forgotten histories. Several concurrent strands become apparent when surveying Sue Ford’s practice, such as the influence of personal biography and a questioning of identity; an interest in gender issues and an advocacy and promotion of women in art and feminism more broadly; a serious connection to social discourse and contemporary politics; and a passionate interest in reconsidering and discussing the histories of Australia and its Indigenous people.Her prolific output also allows for a survey of the development of her unique experimentation with photographic, film, printing and multimedia techniques since the 1960s – processes which were connected, from the very beginning, by an interest in the politics of representation.

If you would like to learn more about this important artist, you can head to her official website here, where you will find more of her life story as well as an archive of her important works and other information. Well worth a visit, as is a more extensive search online

Peace

A Rose by Any Other Name is Still a Rose, But Would it Smell as Sweet? Photography & Language

Recently I've read a couple of posts on various blogs about the language of photography. I don't mean here the ability of a photograph to communicate an idea or story or whatever. No, I'm referring to the language we use when talking about things photographic. There is a school of thought that asserts that the language we use is aggressive and violent. I would add one more word to these two: acquisitive. Obviously by the adding of this third word, you, dear reader, are safe in assuming I agree with the first two. Let me try to explain.

What do we say to describe what we have done when we press the shutter of a camera? We will say something like, "I've taken a photo", or if you are a little more posh you might say, "I've captured a lovely scene". And, let's say  you've been out with your camera for the day and you come home and your partner or whoever asks about your day. You might answer, "Great, I got some terrific shots." And, my favourite: you post a photo in an online gallery or group and one or more of your fellow onliners will say something like, "Wow. What a shot. You really nailed him/her/it didn't you?"

I hope by now you are beginning to get where I'm going with this. taken, shot, captured, nailed. All rather harsh words aren't they? And really, are they truly accurate or appropriate for what we do as photographers? Look at the image above for example. It is, in my opinion, a fairly good photograph of a father and his  young daughter. Looks like they are waiting for someone, or perhaps the father is watching something not in the frame. The child has seen the photographer (me by the way) adding a nice layer to the photograph's story. So, what do I say about this? I could say something like, "I took this shot on the weekend, and I think i've really captured the souls of these people, and I've really nailed the dad's hair, don't you think? I reckon this shot justifies the effort I made on that day to go shooting'. Oh, sorry, I forgot to mention that on that day I was really hunting good street shots.

This all sounds rather unpleasant,don't you think? Of course, don't get me wrong: I'm as guilty as the next 'shooter' of using this kind of language. In reality it is the language of photographers that has been used, I imagine, from the very beginning of the medium. However, it is possible, I think, that the time has come for a thoughtful conversation on whether we should continue using this language or whether we should begin to look at the true nature of our craft or art, and adopt more appropriate words to describe what it is we do and how we do what we do.

To shoot someone or something is quite a violent act; it's a term which is also associated with the use of a gun. A most violent instrument and certainly nothing like a camera surely? De we really 'shoot' with a camera? I think that on the whole there would be few photographers who would seek to harm their subjects with their cameras, so maybe shoot is not the right word for us to be using. At its very mildest a word like 'shoot'  just speaks of aggression.

I added acquisitive as a third way to describe the language we use in the photographic world. Words like take and capture (whether used as verbs or nouns) speak of acquiring or stealing or even kidnapping! And we are doing none of those things with our cameras. There is even a group on a popular online photo sharing site called Soul Snatchers (for readers eager to explore said site, a disclaimer: Before I saw the error of my linguistic ways I was a member of that group, but once my eyes were opened I deleted myself and my photos from the group). We are photographers, are we not? Surely we are not thieves?

This language speaks of what we can either do to our subjects, or of what we can obtain from them. I am beginning to think it might be time for the thoughtful amongst us to start to explore new ways of talking about our art (or craft. More linguistically loaded words) that speak more to what our subjects give to us, and what we can offer to them. I think there is a lot for us to think about here.

Many of us seek to find that decisive moment (thank you Mr Cartier-Bresson), that fleeting gesture, glance, smile. Whatever it is that has inspired us to point (not aim) our camera towards a potential subject. But whose moment is it? Whose gesture do we watch for? Whose smile? The answer is obvious: all these things do not belong to us, they belong to our subjects.

We are allowed into the lives of others, through their spoken or unspoken permission. We are granted access to their moments, their smile, their gestures. We are granted the privilege of being able to photograph people in all their humanity. I don't really want to sound grandiose or pretentious here, but we as photographers (and it doesn't really matter whether we are working at a wedding, a children's party, or as in my case, on the street) are entrusted with a sacred duty. We do seek to reach the essence of a person or other subject, to bring out the 'real' person or thing or whatever. We do seek to produce a true document to show the world (or our friends and so on). I will be the first to admit that there have been times when I may have betrayed that sacred trust. And, if I am to be totally frank here, I see images online every day that very clearly show a breach of trust sometimes amounting to gross exploitation.

I will also be the first to admit that the changing of a language, which really is a part of the culture of image making with a camera (AKA photography!) will be no easy task. I do not judge others for using those bolded and italicised words; I use them myself. After all, we all have to use a common language if we are going to understand or be understood. But I am trying to come up with new words. Like, 'I've been making photos today', rather than taking them; or 'I really think I've reached the soul of that subject' rather than capturing him or her; or 'I would love to photograph wildlife', rather than wanting to shoot animals.

And that word nailed is for me truly problematic. I don't have to learn a new word to use in its stead: I've never used it to refer to photography or anything else apart from carpentry or woodwork. It has other connotations which I have also never liked. Just goes to highlight even more clearly the importance of language and how we use it.

I don't have any answers really. I only bring this issue up because it seems that it is time for a new way of speaking about what to me is a true art form that has the power to change lives, end wars, enhance our environment, showcase the beauty in our world as well as to bring our attention to the ugliness that exists but shouldn't. In other words we are the practitioners of an honourable art or craft, and we really need to be speaking about what we do in language that does honour to, and speaks accurately about this art of photography.

But I'm just a soul whose intentions are good

Oh lord please don't let me be misunderstood

Thank you to Mr Burdon & The Animals for the snippet of lyrics from one of your great tunes.

Also a big thank you to Mr Shakespeare for the quote from Romeo and Juliet which I have taken great liberties with and paraphrased for my title. I am sure he wouldn't mind really.

Wearin' the Green? Well it 'Ain't So Simple You Know

So many "Celtic Festivals", St Patrick's Day celebrations, such popularity for "Celtic music". We adorn ourselves and our entertainment with the green tinge of the Irish and give it not another thought. Even those of us of Irish descent, are prone to the trivialisation of the culture, the symbols, the history of that island that, for most, is really only a place of dreams.

For me, it is a place of ancestors. My father was born there, only to become part of the Irish Diaspora; my great grandfather according to family tradition was executed by the English as a rebel/freedom fighter/terrorist. And me? I spent a long weekend in Dublin and surrounds a long time ago, and have yet to visit to explore and discover ancestors, ghosts, the truth of that part of my story.

On May 6 1981 I heard on the radio that IRA soldier Bobby Sands died after a long hunger strike in what I was then calling an English concentration camp. My horror and anger came out in a small and not especially good poem.

At first the juxtaposition of the image above and this little tribute to a dead "terrorist" might seem odd. But, for me, it in a real sense illustrates and points to the obscenity of a blind donning of colours, the superficial adopting of culture for fun or entertainment. It also highlights that there was once a son (my grandfather) whose father was lost to a fight for freedom as so many have been lost before, are now being lost and will forever be lost to such fights in an unknowable, but often predictable future

Lest We Forget

FOR BOBBY SANDS

Ireland.

Home of ancestors.

Defiled by British guns

For centuries

Too long.

British go home.
Let my people go.
How many more will die
For your greed?
Your arrogance?


You have no right.