Eyes Front Eyes Down (Sydney Australia June 2016)

A Fresh Take on the Decisive Moment Revisited

Henri Cartier-Bresson is known (in addition to being the creator of some of the finest photographs ever made) for ‘inventing’ the concept of The Decisive Moment. Finding and 'capturing' the decisive moment is a kind of holy grail for many photographers, especially social documentary and street photographers.

When I read a friend's post on a famous quote by another photographer that has been misinterpreted or used to justify opposing points of view (well what's odd about that you might ask in our world of cut and paste and spin), I thought, I would have a more critical look at the Decisive Moment concept: where it actually came from, what it means and what I think about it all in relation to my own work.

First up, let's look at what Cartier-Bresson actually said. Well, after a very long and often interesting, surf of the net, I failed to find a single quote from the man himself that includes the words 'decisive moment'. Here, though is one quote that comes close:

‘I kept walking the streets, high-strung, and eager to snap scenes of convincing reality, but mainly I wanted to capture the quintessence of the phenomenon in a single image. Photographing, for me, is instant drawing, and the secret is to forget you are carrying a camera.’

And then there is this from an interview from 1957:

Photography is not like painting. There is a creative fraction of a second when you are taking a picture. Your eye must see a composition or an expression that life itself offers you, and you must know with intuition when to click the camera. That is the moment the photographer is creative. Oop! the Moment! Once you miss the moment it is gone forever. 

No direct mention here of the Decisive Moment, although we see the word 'moment'.  I think actually that this second quote is a fairly good definition of the decisive moment, though I'm still bothered. It seems to me that the origins of the phrase The Decisive Moment in relation to Cartier-Bresson may well have come from the title given to his book Images à la sauvette (translation: Pictures on the sly) when it was released in the United States with a new title: The Decisive Moment.

Here's the thing. We can accept that when we are making a photograph and it all falls into place that this is the 'decisive' moment, but what is this mysterious 'it'. We can say, lighting, composition, subjects and all the rest, have to be in the right place at that right time, but what really determines exactly when the 'decisive moment' occurs? You see, I have a motto: There are no ordinary moments. Meaning, of course that every moment is special, every moment is decisive.

And here's a little bit of evidence to suggest that I might just be onto something here. After more research I have found what may be the first ever use of the actual phrase 'decisive moment'. Jean Francios Paul de Gondi, a cardinal no less of the Roman Catholic church who lived from 1613 to 1679 and came from a rich banking family (didn't they all in those days? Churchman didn't always mean holyman) wrote this:

There is nothing in this world that does not have a decisive moment.

In other words, this rich (though he ran up huge debts and died ‘poor’) cardinal who isn't known for much other than writing his memoirs and whose main claim to fame in our time is that he is to be found on Wikipedia, came up with the idea that some of us social documentary and street photographers use as a benchmark for our own work.

Of course he is saying that all of life, all that happens has its decisive moment. I, in my not quite infinite wisdom, choose to believe he means by this that no moment is by definition ‘ordinary’. 

So, does this mean we just keep our finger down on the shutter button? Do we 'spray and pray’ (what a disgusting image that conjures up; what a sad way to use a camera) and hope we come up with some kind of 'decisive moment'? Hardly. For me it means that every moment has the potential to be special. A street scene of people milling about at a bus stop for example, is always for someone going to contain something special. If I come along with my camera it will be a good scene to photograph or it won't be. It will depend, as we say, on the coming together of elements. And one of those elements is me! Or you; the photographer anyway. 

What I am getting to here in my usual roundabout way is this: If I am there at that bus stop, really there, and I choose to make a photograph, then almost by definition I will come up with a decisive moment. This is so because by being truly present in that space and in that time (ie the moment) I will simply be another element that joins with the flow of all the other elements. I will 'see', I will 'feel' how it is and what is going on. Whether that photograph will be worth sharing with others, well that's another question (for another day).

What I try to keep in mind, and our cardinal friend here has helped me remember this, is that even if the photograph I've made isn't one I choose to keep and/or show to others, it doesn't matter. In some way, in some form, I have shared in and preserved a record of a decisive moment. 

It is the coming together and it is the attempt at coming together, that makes what we do worthwhile as documentary or street photographers. It is the intention, the attitude, the frame of mind that  we come to our work with, that matters. It is also important that we recognize that all moments are special, that none are ‘ordinary’. That way our life is one long significant - and decisive - moment.

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.’ 

Documenting Daily Life with your Camera: Why is it Important?

A Special Love (Dubbo Australia December 2014)

Recently I came across the term concerned photography. Cornell Capa, the great photojournalist coined the phrase, which for him described “work committed to contributing to or understanding [of] humanity’s well being”.

What interested me at first was the idea that this very much coincided with one of the driving forces behind my own work. So, I dug a little deeper. Looking up the term in Wikipedia I discovered that, according to their writer:

Social documentary photography or concerned photography is the recording of humans in their natural condition with a camera, it is a form of documentary photography.

Ah, I saw, the two terms are interchangeable. So, off I went to the entry on Documentary Photography:

Documentary photography usually refers to a popular form of photography used to chronicle both significant and historical events and everyday life. It is typically covered in professional photojournalism or real life reportage, but it may also be an amateur, artistic, or academic pursuit. The photographer attempts to produce truthful, objective, and usually candid photography of a particular subject, most often pictures of people.

And, without wanting to enter the endless and tedious debates on what is and what isn’t street photography, much of what I discovered in my little research resonated with my own thinking and more or less described how I define my street photography. In other words, and to again risk complete and permanent ostracism from the street photography community, for me my street photography is social documentary and vice versa. I know that many street photographers claim their work is not documentary, and while for many it may be true, for others I think they are mistaken. Oops, sorry. Not going down that road or street (get it? not going down that street? lol)

There are many extraordinary social documentary photographers today, and from the past, who have highlighted many important social issues, injustices, wars, poverty, famine. A lot of what we (or should I just speak for myself here?) know of the world and the history of the last century has come from seeing the work of these gifted and dedicated people. People like Capa himself, Mary Ellen Mark,  W.Eugene Smith, and a dozen others spring to mind.

You will have heard that currently fashionable idea that “these days everyone is a photographer”. Of course it is total and absolute nonsense. Have you watched the promotional videos put out by camera manufacturers? You know, the ones in which this or that camera turns the user into an intrepid high risk taking adventurer, smooth talking travel “shooter” in mystical and exotic lands far away, or legend in the making photojournalist documenting poverty in dusty war torn places (while still maintaining a pristine hairstyle, spotless safari type outfit and brand new dustless camera gear).  Like most advertising, it is sad, cynical and manipulative rubbish peddling “things” to people who they must think are too stupid to know better.

Despite this myth making (which it has to be said does sell heaps of cameras), most of us are either not able, are unwilling, or simply don’t have the skills, courage, opportunity or desire to pursue such lives. Most of us live what might be best described as ordinary lives.

But, of course, you know what I have to say about this already I think. There are no ordinary lives, nor are there any ordinary people. While I hope there will always be people willing to bear witness to and document the injustices and horrors in our world in the attempt to help correct them, or at least bring them to the attention of the rest of us so we can no longer say “but we didn’t know”), the reality is that for most of us it is the life around us at this very moment that is, well, reality. It is the people we witness in our daily lives, as we go about our business (whatever that may be) that are “humans in their natural condition”. And it is the photographing of those lives, moments in those lives, that constitutes social documentary photography, as noted in the definition above.

And it is by documenting the so-called ordinary that we may contribute to the work being done by those “big names” we love and admire and sometimes wish we could emulate. Well, we can emulate them. Look around you, see the people around you. Don’t look for the “pleasing composition” or the “interesting shadows”. Don’t become obsessed by the “tonal range” or whatever. Look at the people. Realize that at that very moment you have an opportunity to record the significant and the seemingly not so significant, moments that in reality are all important and worthy of our attention.

(DISCLAIMER: I’m not saying don’t learn and apply technical skills. I’ve written before that the documenting of the lives of people requires us to the best job we can with our camera equipment (and editing tools). It’s about intention, about priorities. It's about knowing the tech stuff but allowing it to work on its own accord while you focus on the real point of photography.

Because we see our own lives as pretty ordinary and often dull and full of what we think of as meaningless routine, we tend to see the lives of those around us in the same way. It’s only when we look further afield that we think that life "over there" is different, more exciting, more interesting. But, it’s not true. Every moment we witness with (or without come to think of it) our camera is unique. It’s never going to happen again. Ever or anywhere. Each photo we make has the potential to become a document that just might affect someone somewhere, elicit an emotional response, even lead to change. It might just be a small change in the life of that one viewer, but you’ve got to start somewhere

Right?

PS

I do know quite a few people personally who are fine social documentary photographers of the "everyday". Here are just two who I think meet the criteria for being concerned photographers. Follow the links and it might just set you on a wonderful journey of discovery. I hope to feature these special artists and others in posts to come

Judith Rodriguez is a compassionate photographer from Argentina whose work is full of humanity. Judith's photos just ooze truth and love. I'm proud to call her friend.

Doug Berryhill is an American photographer whose work in documenting his hometown is extraordinary and will be seen as a valuable (and an especially fine) historical archive. Doug knows his town, cares for and about its people. All round good guy in my not so humble opinion.

A Moment Shared with a Happy Dad

Happy Chatter Shares the City Square with the Birds 

(Parramatta Square Sydney Australia April 2015)

Strolling around the public square in the "suburban" city of Parramatta in the west of Sydney today, I came across this guy who seemed to be all alone, although the square was actually quite busy (the sun being out after several days of heavy rain). 

At the distance I was from him I couldn't see the expression on his face, but I liked the scene and made the picture. As I walked past him, he looked up and actually laughed. In such cases I always speak to the people I've shared a moment with. Here is our little conversation.

Me: Thank you (pointing to my camera to tell him I had made the photo)
I just loved the way you looked as if you were concentrating hard on your phone" (mimicking his pose).

Him: (laughing some more) I am just having a chat with my daughter"

Me: Well thanks for the photo, and have a good chat with her"

Him: (laughing again) Thank you

Nice eh? A great little moment shared with a dad who was so happy to be talking to his daughter, and was so proud to let me, a stranger with a camera, know about it.

One of the reasons I am a street photographer.

Peace

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.

One Day You Will Remember Me: Street Photography & the Truth on the Street

One Day You Will Remember Me (Melbourne Australia June 2014)

Allow me to introduce you to Elias. I met him on the street in Melbourne a few days ago. I'd spotted him out the corner of my eye, and as is my habit when encountering people who appear to be homeless, I smiled, waved and walked on by. But, before I got more than a meter or two past him, Elias called me back.

"Take my photo," he said as I approached him.

I replied that I don't usually photograph people who are homeless.

"I'm not homeless." was his answer.

I asked him why was he laying on the street in such weather (it was rainy and very cold).

"I have a place but I come out every day, trying to make people happy,"  he told me. "One day you will remember me and one day you will remember God through me." Then he told me again to photograph him, arranging his Star of David pendant just so, as he spoke.  So I made this photograph, showed it to him and he approved.

"That's a good one," he said and smiled his thanks.

Afterwards I asked him his name and he told me it is Elias. He also told me that he is a Jewish prince. When I said that I didn't know there were Jewish princes, he simply replied, with a smile on this face:

"Well, I am one."

He refused to take any money from me and just repeated that one day I would remember him and remember God through him. 

Is Elias really a Jewish prince? He told me he is, so he is. Will I remember him "one day"? Well he told me I will, so I will.  As a street and social documentary photographer, it is not my place to judge the things people tell me, or for that matter, the 'reality' they show me through the viewfinder of my camera. Life on the street, life itself, is what it is.  Sometimes the truth is plain to see, sometimes it's hidden beneath the surface or behind masks of various kinds.

 But, at the end of the day, on the street there is truth and really the best way to see and experience that truth is to remember that, while we may weigh up the facts of a situation, a story or whatever, there will always be truth hidden there whether the facts add up or not.

One Street Photography Lesson I've Learned from the singer Kenny Rogers

I'm republishing this from a few months back because I think it's a lesson worth getting out there. Enjoy!

Okay, let's begin at the beginning. Kenny Rogers is (or was) a very big name in Country music. Not an obvious introduction to a post on street photography you might think. Well, you see, among his many chart topping hits, there was one called The Gambler. He made that tune famous!

  Anyway, it's about a couple of guys stuck on a "train to nowhere". One, a gambler, starts talking to the other guy because they're both too tired to sleep. He says (and forgive my paraphrasing) "You know son, I make a living out of reading people's faces. And I reckon that yours suggests you've seen better days. So, if you give me a swig of your whiskey I'll give you some advice, an 'ace' you can keep". Or words to that effect.

   He then drinks the whiskey and starts to give the guy some really good advice about knowing when to walk away, knowing when to run; when to hold your cards and when to throw them away. Still, I hear you saying, what's this got to do with street photography? Okay, here's the bit of the song I'm talking about:

You never count your money when you're sittin' at the table.There'll be time enough for countin' when the dealin' is done.

Still not being real clear am I? Alright, here it is in street photographer lingo:

You never chimp* while you're on the street and still making photographs. There'll be plenty of time later once you've uploaded your memory card to your computer for checking how many good ones you got, and how many you didn't; what you've done right, and what you've done wrong.

Now, all of us who use digital cameras have been guilty of such behavior. And it's a very bad habit! I mean, while you're busy peering at the monitor on the back of your camera, you aren't there and then; you're no longer on the street. You are no longer of the street—and you are no longer in the moment either. You're off in your head somewhere, analyzing. You've left the Zone'! Not only does it take some time to get back into the Zone when you lift your head once again to the street, just think of what you have missed as the life of the street has just flowed right on by while you've been distracted by your monitor analyzing.

  Many street photographers actually turn their monitors off, so they aren't tempted to 'chimp'. And of course this is where our film using sisters and brothers are ahead of the game. They have no choice but to wait till later to see what they've got.

  The gambler gives his advice about not counting your money while still at the table because he knows that once you take your eyes, mind and heart off the game, you set yourself up for a losing streak. Think about when you last caught yourself chimping. Do you think you missed some good opportunities? Did you miss some good moments? Did it take you some time to get back into the game, sorry, I mean the Zone?

  So, here's what I suggest you do: Resist the temptation (and after several years of photographing on the street, I admit I still succumb occasionally—and pay the consequences too). Just don't look at your monitor. Turn it off if you like. It really is that simple; Tough love of this sort is the only solution. Actually, that's the tough part. You can add some love by setting up a reward system for when you find yourself not chimping for a whole session on the street. Here's what I do: I remind myself that I am going to sit down "in a little while" to have a coffee or cup of tea. Just to rest my legs you understand. If I've been good and not chimped, I will then—and only then—allow myself a quick run through of the images I've made so far.

   But, even then, though, I don't like to spend a lot of time analyzing what I've done. If I do, I run the risk of getting too much into the thinking mode, and right away from the Zone where I am really in and of the street, and in the moment. And, really, that's where the best street photographs are made.

*The Urban Dictionary defines 'chimping' as:

What one does after taking a picture with a digital camera and looking at the result.(My Note: The street photography take on this would be: checking whether or not we have "captured the moment").  Derived from the words they (photographers) speak when chimping: "Ooo-oo-oo!" (as in the sounds chimpanzees make)

 Disclaimer:

         I do not endorse gambling. In fact, I believe gambling (as in poker, horse racing, sports betting            and the rest) is a curse and more often than not simply another way for the rich to get richer on          the backs and with the money of the poor.

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.