Change the World: Bit by Bit, Moment by Moment

Do Not Forsake Me (Melbourne Australia July 2011)

One of the many wonderful things in my life has been the opportunity to meet and come to know so many fine people through social media platforms such as Facebook (don't let anyone tell you that social media is a waste of time or 'keeps us isolated'). And among these people are many many fine artists. Artists in all disciplines: painters, singers, musicians, songwriters, poets, short story writers, novelists, sculptors. And last but not least, I have met and come to love the work of many wonderful photographers.

Among these photographers is one I've mentioned on this blog before, Doug Berryhill. Doug is an American photographer who has been deep into documenting the people of his hometown. His photos are always finely composed, correctly exposed and all the rest. But way and far far above any technical expertise or even purely aesthetic considerations, Doug's work demonstrates a clear and compassionate understanding of human nature, and in particular the people he knows best: those who live in his community. In my ever so humble opinion, Doug's photographs will one day be recognised as not only an important chronicling of that community, but more widely as significant documents of our times.

But it is not his photography that I want to talk about here today; I want to share with you a post he made sometime recently about photography:

We have allowed the fractures within our societies to endanger our sense of a common humanity. Photography can, bit by bit, moment by moment, help to restore that. Photographs that draw me are those that compel me to see beyond the us versus them mentality.

This is as good a definition of humanist photography as you will find. And, to be honest, it is precisely what draws me to Doug's photographs. And I think it is the same for all of us: we are drawn to photos that speak to us of humanity, of people's love and joys; of their hopes and achievements; of their very 'ordinaryness'. Not that anyone is really merely ordinary of course. But you know exactly what I  mean I am sure.

And a photo doesn't have to be by a big name to have this kind of impact on a viewer either. Family snapshots for example. They bring joy, memories, smiles, tears, comfort and even happiness, to people viewing them. Then there is street photography, which for me at least is about bearing witness to, and the sharing of, the so-called ordinary moments of people's lives which go unnoticed and unremembered. A street photo can stop a viewer in their tracks as what they see there acts as a catalyst for them to feel something; what they see prompts an emotional reaction. This happens simply by them witnessing a fellow human being doing something entirely 'ordinary'.

So, that is what I try to do. I try to demonstrate the things we have in common, the things we share as human beings, by photographing individual people going about their lives. From the specific to the general if you like. As Doug said, moment by moment.

This is an important role to play, this bearing witness. It also carries with it enormous responsibility: I am required to be as honest as I can and to honour the truth as I see it without fear or favour. And, perhaps above all, I must do all of this (even to the technical side of things) to the best of my ability. If I can even for a few seconds connect you, the viewer, with the people in my photos, then I will be well pleased and I will know that I have done my job.

II will leave you with a quote (also found on Doug's Facebook page) by one of the most important photographers of all time, Robert Frank, that pretty much sums up the street photographer's job:

There is one thing the photograph must contain, the humanity of the moment

Peac

Create and Share That Which has been Created: A Mantra for all Artists

Hello My Darling (Melbourne Australia December 2012)

I wonder how many of your know that I am a poet. Well, to put it more accurately: I sometimes write poems. I might go a year with no poems appearing, and, then, as has happened recently, I will write one a day for several days in a row.

Anyway, a couple of days ago I was reflecting in my journal (yes, I keep a journal too, and have been for over 35 years, again with the occasional break) on one of these recent masterpieces, and I found myself writing that I was really quite pleased with the poem and how I expressed some real feelings in the piece and that it contained some really nice images (of the wordy variety that is).

I stopped writing at that point to think about it a bit more. Then I started writing again. Here’s what I wrote:

I’m really struggling to come to a point where I do all my creative work and especially my photography simply because it is what I want to do, and to let go of any expectations of it being liked by anyone else or commented on or whatever. I am trying to realise that my role is to create and to share. That is all

Then I stopped again. After a few moments, I wrote in bigger letters and in the middle of the page:

 Create and share that which has been created

Okay, it’s not a new idea, this do your art because it’s what you want to do and don’t worry about the reactions of others. I'm sure you've read the same thing on other blogs, but it’s an idea worth talking about again; it’s a kind of reminder to self (and maybe to others?) that it is why one does something that matters most. Although of course, being human it’s always nice when people approve of what one does. I guess it’s about not worrying overly much about what other people think. It’s about not thinking about what’s popular, what sells, what gets the most “Likes” and the rest.

So, that’s what I am trying to do in my work as a street and social documentary photographer: make the photos I want, for the reasons I want to make them. I always aspire to make my photos the best I possibly can, just as I always try to have the best possible reasons or motives for making them. In a sense, once I have done my best to send them out into the world, I have no control over what impact (or lack of impact) my photos have. Same goes for this blog or anything else I do.

Anyway, I am glad my sub-conscious presented me with a new mantra as I wrote in my journal:

               Create and share that which has been created.

 Peace

Photographing the Moment: It's a Vision Thing

There is one thing that photography must contain: the humanity of the moment. This kind of photography is realism. But realism is not enough; there has to be vision, and the two together can make a good photograph.                                                         

      Robert Frank

What is it exactly that Frank is saying here? I think, put simply, he is telling us that for a photo to be potentially (my italics) successful, it must contain not only a moment of the life of the person or people being photographed, but it must also contain something of humanity as it was expressed in that moment.

We see a lot of Street photography that clearly is made with the intention of producing a kind of technically correct result. (Disclaimer: I'm not going go anywhere near debates such as the "sharpness in Street Photography is overrated" paradigm doing the rounds at the moment).  And of course we do have to have some technical expertise and aspirations for our photography. But oftentimes we try so hard to copy the styles of the "masters", or the latest "trends" in street photography, or to get our heads around "zone focus", or "depth of field" and "bokeh" and the rest,  that we, either lose sight of the vision we brought to street photography in the first place, or we deny ourselves the opportunity to develop our own unique vision and voice 

But even worse than all this in my opinion is the missed opportunities to celebrate the humanity in the moments we are so fortunate to share with the people we photograph. At the same time we disrespect and objectify those people; we begin to treat them as simply one more (but not any more special than any other) element in our photos.

Now, I'm not saying that people in our photos are not to be considered as compositional, aesthetic or narrative elements; what I am saying is that at least for me, people must be the primary element. Or to put it more precisely: in order to inject humanity into our photos we have to make the moment as the people in our photos are living it the focus and the most important consideration when we make a photograph. 

Not all my photos are "tack sharp" (though for me the people I photograph deserve to be seen as clearly as possible whenever possible in a way that doesn't detract from the meaning of the moment); not all my photos are composed in accordance with the Rule of Thirds or the Golden Mean and the rest (though I study composition and I hope it informs that unconscious part of me that "sees" while I am in Street photography mode. Again I owe it to the people I photograph); lens aperture is only important to the extent that it allows me to show the people I photograph in the best light (to coin a phrase). No need to go on: I'm sure you get the picture (get it? picture? haha)

At the end of the day it comes down to finding a balance: My choice is to work towards a balance that favors the humans and their lived experience in my street photos, while still making a photo that is as technically good as I’m able. As Robert Frank says ‘… realism is not enough; there has to be vision.’ 

Street Photographers Can Help Change the World for the Better

Lovers at the Shop Window (Amsterdam August 2013)

Reading a post from the Book of Life site, reminded me of a dilemma many artists, many street photographers face: how do we practice our art in a world cursed by suffering, conflict, environmental decay, corporate greed and the rest?

The post poses this question.  The opening paragraph reads:

The cultural elite gets nervous about cheerful or sweet art. They worry that pretty, happy works of art are in denial about how bad the state of the world is and how much suffering there is in almost every life.

It goes on: have we forgotten about the misery, corruption, and suffering?

The author proposes that, rather than having forgotten, the reality is we feel too small, too inadequate to the task of doing anything, so we withdraw from the struggle.

At this point, I have a confession to make. I wish I knew far less than I do about the suffering that is going on (and always has) in the world; I wish I knew less about history and how the political and economic systems that plague us all work*.

It’s hard to be optimistic, to have hope that things will change for the better. But the author suggests: ‘Cheerfulness is an achievement and hope is something to celebrate.’

That’s where artists come in. That’s where street photographers come in. I know, not all street photographers believe what they do is art. That’s okay; doesn’t matter what you call what you do. Same difference, as we used to say. The point is, artists need to produce art that inspires hope, that celebrates the good in the world and celebrates humanity.

Of course it is also the artist’s role to highlight the suffering, the inequalities, the injustices, the threats to the planet. In fact without these artists there are many people who would be able to say, “but we didn’t know about … . " The role of the artist is to make sure nobody can ever make this excuse.

But, I and I suspect many other artists, aren’t able to focus on that side of things. For me at least it is not a case of not wanting to, or that I don’t care. It’s more that I am physically and mentally not able to.  However, I do not ignore the suffering in and of the world; I do not deny it and pretend that all is well.

What I choose to do about it is celebrate humanity through street photography. I choose to photograph the ordinary moments in people’s lives; moments in which they might be expressing joy or sorrow, laughing or crying, going about the normal business of daily life. I choose to do this as my way of contributing to change in the world.

Sound pretentious? Sound a tad immodest? It’s true that street photography doesn’t seem on the surface to be a part or the political or moral and ethical battles which at this very moment in history are determining the future of humanity and of the planet. After all, one might ask, how is the making of photos of people doing ordinary things in the street help anybody?

It is a valid question and I will try to give an answer that means something.

After World War II the French Humanist photographers, as well as other artists around the world, sought to shift the focus; after so much death and destruction, they turned their cameras (and paint brushes, music and the rest) towards the good in humanity. They sought to celebrate life.

In France, photographers began focusing on a number of themes which, for them, reflected this desire to celebrate humanity. They seem obvious to us now, but then, after so much pain, their work represented a revival, an affirmation of survival and the possibility of a good life:

• Lovers. Couples kissing or otherwise showing affection. Couples strolling and enjoying each other’s company.  Such scenes, such moments, demonstrate our resilience as a species.
• Children. Children playing. Children enjoying life, laughing and being, well, children. After years of war people must have been overjoyed to see children once again free to be.
• The Family.  Photographs of family groups, of families around a table enjoying a meal and the company of loved ones. Weddings too, played a part. Again images of normality, of hope in a future brighter than the past.
• Work. For so many years the main role of working people had been to fight or to otherwise support the war machine. Humanist photographers saw the workers as the new heroes, so they showed people engaged in all kinds of labor and occupations to celebrate their efforts and nobility.
• The street. As life returned to normal, photographers began to portray people going about their ordinary business: shopping, chatting in cafes, gossiping on street corners, buskers, stall holders and others making their lives or living on the street. All the ordinary things that for so long people had been denied.
• Public Gatherings. During the war years, there was little tolerance of public gatherings. So, now that peace had come, photographers spent time recording fetes, carnivals, festivals and the like. Documenting  these celebrations of community became a big part of humanist photography.

Of course for a great many street photographers these themes form the foundations of who and what they photograph. But how many of us think that we are helping to change the world?

Now, intention is key. It is why you make photos that will, at least in part, determine the impact they have the potential to make.  I can’t speak to anyone else’s reasons or intentions. I can only say that for myself, photographing ‘ordinary people’ doing ‘ordinary things’ is an act of resistance to the dehumanizing and numbing power of the obstacles all people of goodwill are up against.

In this way, there is a possibility that my photos might bring a smile to someone, or perhaps prompt a happy memory or even suggest a course of action.  And then there might be a time when a photo of mine brings a tear to someone’s eye, or brings up a sad memory. Both are valid; both are about what makes us human and both  just might have a chance of engendering a little hope.

Why do you do street photography? What do you hope comes from your photos?

Peace

*     * No, this isn’t true. After all, ignorance isn’t bliss, it’s just ignorance.  I just wish it didn’t upset  me as much as it does, but then, if it didn’t, what sort of person would that make me? And what  use would I be as an artist?

I Call Myself a Humanist Street Photographer And With Good Reason Too

Over the last few days I've been reading and researching the French Humanist Street Photographers for a project I'm working on (stay tuned for that!) and while looking around, I came across a great post on the (possibly soon to be defunct) F/50 International Photography Collective site. The post is headed 'I'm not a Street Photographer' and is by Collective member Peter Barton, In the post Peter points out the problematic nature of calling oneself a 'street photographer', especially nowadays.

'I’ve never been happy calling myself a "Street Photographer". There’s something about the term that makes me shudder – especially when the short form "togs" is used.' Peter says in the post.  He then goes on to talk about the famous (or infamous depending on your point of view) street photographer who is well known for the statement, 'I have no ethics' and who Peter describes as 'aggressive and bullying'.

While accepting that there is more to street photography than this particular photographer's in-your-face style, Peter says that 'if that's what it takes to be called a street photographer then it's not for me.’ Barton laments that the photographer described above and 'his ilk' have such a high profile. What to do? he asks. 

In a search for the answer, he came across the term Humanist Photographer. The term resonated with him and he tracked down a definition in the introduction to a course at the Simon Fraser University:

Humanist photography is the celebration of life and its inexhaustible diversity as seen through the lens of a photographer. Often called poetic realism, this genre celebrates the ordinary, the small pleasures of life, and the daily pitfalls of our existence; it never ceases to enchant us with its truthfulness and poetics.

Now, I've written to Peter to thank him for his post and for quoting this definition. Why? Because it's exactly what I do and his feelings more or less mirror my own. Well, I suppose anyone who reads this blog already knows that, right? Anyway, Peter prefers the term Humanist to Street. 

And this is the only point on which we don't agree. I have for a long while now called myself a Humanist Street Photographer, and I intend to continue. In fact, if I weren’t already disposed to do so, I would anyway for exactly the reasons Peter is rejecting the term Street. Here's why:

I am very pleased, very honored and very privileged to be a photographer. Or, let me rephrase that. I am privileged to be a Street Photographer with the same kinds of motivations that drove (and drives) the great humanist photographers of the past such as Cartier-Bresson, Robert Doisneau, Willy Ronas, Edouard Boubat, and people like Joel Meyorwitz and so many others nameless and unknown in the present, who have sought to celebrate humanity as described in the definition quoted above

So, I will not allow the faddists, the hucksters and the social media hammer wielders to dictate what I choose to do or how I choose to label myself and my work-even as a way to distance myself from them. Why should I? Street Photography is a really huge business these days. Camera companies, social media "gurus", workshop "teachers", all are on the bandwagon. Well, not all of course, but there is definitely an industry called ‘Street Photography’. 

And it’s a business based on fads and on fashion; and, like any fad or fashion, there’s a lot of hype and marketing surrounding it.  But, like any fad, it will pass; the business people involved will move on to the next latest and greatest thing.

What will be left amidst the who knows how many millions of 'street photographs' (the good the bad and the ugly and in all the multitude of sub genres and styles) will be the work, the photographs, made by the street photographers of the past and of the present who were and are motivated by a humanist view of the world and have an intent to simply record the daily lives of the so-called 'ordinary people'. That's history I guess.

I am not saying that my work will last; I am not comparing myself with the greats from the past or even the present. And there is one thing you can say about me: I most definitely do not have a high profile; in fact no profile is closer to the reality. But in my work as a Humanist Street Photographer, I strive to 'celebrate the ordinary, the small pleasures of life, and the daily pitfalls of our existence.' And I plan to keep on doing it too, long after the fad has faded, just as I was doing it a long time before the fad was fomented (or was it fermented?) in the minds of the marketeers

And I have a dream: I dream that my photographs will 'enchant [people who see them] with their truthfulness and poetics.' 

Leonard Cohen Speaks about Street Photography (well songwriting actually, but...)

Do not Forsake Me (Melbourne Australia June 2011)

In case you don’t know, I love Leonard Cohen, and I do mean love. He is not only one of the greatest poets and songwriters of our times, he is one of the greatest of all time. His music has guided me, inspired me, enabled me to connect with my emotions and uplifted me in many troubled times of my own.

Recently I read a post from a site I subscribe to called Brain Pickings. The posts I get from them are always stimulating, thought provoking and often enable insights and revelations that I value. Please visit the site and you will see what I mean.

Anyway, the post I was reading was a description and review of a wonderful book, Songwriters on Songwriting. The book is a collection of interviews by Paul Zollo with some of the huge names in songwriting.

In his 1992 conversation with Zollo, Cohen was asked to consider the purpose of music in human life. This was Leonard’s answer:

There are always meaningful songs for somebody. People are doing their courting, people are finding their wives, people are making babies, people are washing their dishes, people are getting through the day, with songs that we may find insignificant. But their significance is affirmed by others. There’s always someone affirming the significance of a song by taking a woman into his arms or by getting through the night. That’s what dignifies the song. Songs don’t dignify human activity. Human activity dignifies the song.

As soon as I read this I knew that what Cohen was saying applied just as much to street and social documentary photography as it does to songwriting. In fact, you could say that what he is talking about is the foundation, or one of the foundations, upon which humanist photography stands:

Songs don’t dignify human activity. Human activity dignifies the song.

This idea resonated deeply within me. Ever since I have been photographing people, and even before I realized I was practicing documentary or street photography, I had the sense that the act of me photographing a person does not make that person special; it is their presence in my photographs that makes the photographs special. In other words, human activity dignifies my photographs. Or, to put it another way: photographing humans and their activities (whether they are mundane or “ordinary”, or what we might call unusual or extraordinary) is not a way for me to “make them seem worthy or impressive” (one definition of dignify). Rather, the humans I photograph as they go about their so-called ordinary lives offer me the opportunity to produce worthy or impressive photographs. Of course, as I've said, the photographs are already worthy and impressive simply by virtue of the presence of humans and their activities in them.

This is not to say that my (or anyone’s) photographs are automatically “good” and that I can ignore the notion of applying skill, care and control in their production. In fact the contrary is true: in order to fulfill my responsibility to depict the people and their activities I photograph in a way that does justice to their presence in the photographs, I am obligated to do all I can to make the photo as good as it can be.

Many of you will have read or heard that I believe that there are no ordinary moments. This is, of course what Leonard is saying in the quote above. As I wander the streets and other public places in openness to receive images from my fellow humans, I see couples kissing or hugging, and couples fighting or looking glum; I see people working and people who are unemployed; I see people shopping or daydreaming at shop windows; I see parents caring lovingly for their children, and I see parents unhappy with their children for some reason or another; I see people smiling, crying, chatting, walking, talking. I see people with friends and I see people alone-and sometime people who are lonely. I see people slowly strolling and others rushing to or from somewhere. I've seen people being arrested, and I've seen others “resisting” arrest. I have seen joy and sorrow, laughter and tears. As well, I have experienced all kinds of emotions as I witness life on the streets.

Most of the human activities cited above would seem to the vast majority of us as ordinary, perhaps not noticed or worthy of note, as we go about our ordinary, and often busy, everyday lives. This is where I and others like me come in. It is the role of the humanist street photographer to, firstly, be open to seeing these fleeting moments that are quickly lost and gone forever for most of the people who experience them. Secondly, it is our job to bear witness. We do this by making photographs that are, not only of high technical and aesthetic quality, but that reflect an empathetic, compassionate and loving approach to the people photographed and to the moment itself.

For the humanist street photographer this has nothing to do with “taking” photos, or “stealing souls” or “capturing great shots” or any of the other junk and rubbish spouted noisily in the so–called street photography forums and blogs as well as on the websites of savvy social media marketing “togs” all over the internet.  For the Humanist street or social documentary photographer it is about being open to a connection and a sharing between ourselves and our fellow humans with whom we are fortunate enough to be experiencing those fleeting and so-called ordinary moments.

PICK OF THE WEEK: Remembering

Remembering

(Armadale Western Australia February 2014

I'm always drawn to war memorials. I guess it has to do with my father being a career soldier in the Australian army. Among other things, he did two tours in that horrific war on Vietnam as part of the Australian commitment to its "friend" the United States. That service led eventually to his death and to the destruction of our family. That is not a story for this blog, I know. What I want to reflect on here is why I'm drawn to the places and sites that memorialize war.

I was involved for a few years in an organisation with other sons and daughters of Vietnam veterans. But, in the end, I didn't like it at all. What bothered me most was that there was too much focus on and too much glorification of military exploits, of battles fought and won. And there was too little emphasis placed on the concept that war itself is the problem. War is the evil that caused so much of our pain.

And, of course, memorials like this one in my photograph, are venues for gatherings such as Anzac Day and Remembrance Day services, battle commemorations and the like. So, what is it that pulls me in every time I encounter such a place in my travels? As I said, it's personal.

I think at some point I made a decision as to what these "war memorials" represent to me. I have come to believe they are places which honour the memory of the victims of war. I ignore the battle names carved on them, and choose instead to think upon the names of the dead and their lives, as well as the families they have left behind. For me they have become anti-war memorials.

There is nothing naive about me. No,not at all. I do not for a second think that war is going to ever be "a thing of the past". Sadly it does not seem to be in the nature of the human animal to find other solutions, to not covet the land or resources of others. No, war is a permanent fixture. But I don't have to like it. I do not have to support it. I do not have to celebrate victories or (and this is even more perverse) defeats in which some seem to find so much to glorify.

So, what of this photograph? I had thought to call it "Some Remember while Some Forget", based on the man who looks like he is remembering or trying to remember something, and the person walking away as if not even noticing the memorial. However, I decided that the simple title would be better: Remembering.

And we should always remember. Not, as I say because that's the way to put an end to war. It isn't quite that simple. But remembering, not forgetting, is important because it can help us realize that in the end it is all of us who are responsible for war. Yes, I know, I said that war seems to be in our nature. So, you might ask, how can any of us as individuals be responsible? Perhaps it's a good question. All I can say in response (and in a rare display of naivety) is that maybe the question posed by the title of a movie from 1970 might be an even better one to ponder:

Suppose they threw a war and nobody came

Camera Shy? It's a good question. Reflections on pressing the shutter or not

Camera Shy? (Nottingham England 2013)

A huge, ongoing point of discussion in my line of work (street and documentary photography) are the questions: do people object to being photographed? Are we invading their privacy/space? On and on. Good questions, of course, and all of us need to think about them. Not just once either: we need to continue to reflect on these and other questions as the world changes, as we change. Just part of the work of the artist really.

Now, in this photograph (made in Nottingham in England a few months ago) we see three young women in school uniforms. Two are hiding behind an umbrella, while the third, who has a smile on her face, peeks out from behind her hand. Sort of hiding, sort of not. 

In fact, the two hiding behind the umbrella were also laughing. So, as I moved to make the photograph, I made the judgement that they were weren’t really hiding. They were just fooling around. So I pressed the shutter. 

Of course, most people I photograph don’t actually see me, so how can I know whether they would object to being photographed? I do not have the simplistic approach of: “if they don’t object, they are agreeing”,  that would make it very easy to do pretty much anything. I don’t hold at all with that idea. Unethical and wrong.

No, it’s more subtle than that. It is more about intuition and being fully present right in the moment. if I am truly right there and then (as I like to say) I just know if a person would object or would approve of being photographed.

The great humanist photographer Abraham Menashe talks about waiting to “be invited” to make the photograph. It’s about being there as I say, right in the moment and suspending judgement, and waiting. I can’t count the number of times when I’ve put the camera to my eye, framed what looks like a great photograph of a person who hasn’t seen me, only to put the camera down again. I usually don’t know why; it’s just happens that way. I haven’t been invited. At some level, that person and I have connected. 

So, in this image, my Pick of the Week, it was an easy decision; the choice obvious. It isn’t always so. But, If I am fully present, suspend judgement and approach the work with compassion, love and empathy, then usually the answer makes itself known. Do I always get it right? Of course not. But, like everything else in life, it is one’s intention that is of key importance. And with practise comes more and more success and the joy of a shared moment between me and the people I photograph, whether they “know” I’m there or not.

Interview with Street Photographer Umberto Verdoliva (from 121Clicks.com)

An inspired photographer and inspiring too. Do you know what he think is the most important quality for a street photographer to possess? good camera? no. stealth? no. guts? no. zone focusing? no. Here is what he says:
"The main quality you need is love to the people. Be attentive to their actions, have respect them. Commit to capture significant aspects with patience, intelligence, sensitivity"
Love for the people. Exactly

JUST CLICK ON THE LINK AT THE BOTTOM. THANKS!!






Interview with Street Photographer Umberto Verdoliva - 121Clicks.com