Empathy in Street Photography: A new word to help us understand what it's all about

In the Bus Queue (Nottingham England 2013)

I've learned a new word this week: sonder. I forget now where I came across it, but it's an invented word. Or, to be more accurate, it is a word that has an invented meaning. A little research led me to the source for this word (don't worry: I will tell you what it means and why I'm writing about it very soon): The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows. According to the explanation on the site:

The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows is a compendium of new and invented words written by John Koenig. Each original definition aims to fill a hole in the language - to give a name to emotions we all might experience but don't yet have a word for. The author's mission is to capture the aches,  demons, vibes, joys and urges that roam the wilderness of the psychological interior. Each sorrow is bagged, tagged and tranquilized, then released gently back into the subconscious. 

Very groovy don't you think? A really excellent and innovative idea and project. The world is in great need of new and expressive words and ideas  we can all share and relate to.  I suggest everyone has at least a look at the site. Koenig also invites us to write him with ideas about emotions we can't find words for.

Anyway, back to my newly discovered word, sonder. Here is the definition from the Dictionary:

sonder:n. the realisation that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own - populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness - an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you'll never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk.

I was really struck by this idea. We have all had, I think, those little flashes in which we suddenly realise that others around us, friends or strangers, are just like us with the same worries, loves, fears, joys, heartaches, responsibilities and complicated lives, as we ourselves have.

But what really impressed me was how this word, this concept, relates to my work, to street photography. Another way to put the lengthy definition above is to say sonder means empathy; it means feeling with our fellow travellers on planet Earth. And it is through empathy that I am able to photograph people I encounter on the street in a compassionate and loving way.

After all, they are just like me, and I am just like them. This informs my work and enables me to meet the people I photograph as equals; there is no imbalance. Our encounter  becomes a sharing, an acknowledgement that we are all in this life together.

My job is to simply make a note (through using my camera to make a photograph) of a few of the moments in which we cross paths. I can then share our encounter with others, who in turn may come to understand at least a little of the lives of others.

Sonder is also a word in German. It means special. And I like that too. The realisation of the things we have in common is a truly significant insight (and it cries out to be shared). It follows that the brief encounters between me (with my camera) and people in the street are special. Like I always say, there are no ordinary moments.

But wait, there's more! Sonder is the Swedish word for, among other things, broken. As in broken apart. The English word asunder is related. And aren't we all, in some way or other, at least a little bit "broken"? We've all had hurts, disappointments, losses, traumas in our lives that have left us a little damaged and "worse for wear".

And, you see, this is a huge part, at least for me, of what street photography is all about. As I encounter people in the street, I try to remember that, just as I am doing my best to make my way in the world, so are they. Their humanity is my humanity; their brokenness is my brokenness.

I know I've quoted the great humanist photographer Abraham Menashe a few times, but I would like to leave you now with another quote from an interview he did a few years ago.

"The world is in need of affirmation. At the very heart of our humanity is the challenge of unconditional love, which is to suspend judgement and open fully to the vivid reality of other beings. Unconditional love does not know barriers; it says yes, it affirms the moment even if it is full of grief".

 Peace to you all.

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.

The Moment is only 1/500th of a second

The great street photographer and gifted teacher and mentor, John Free, has several videos that can be watched online. One of them is called 1/500 of a Second. In it he contends that as photographers, and as artists seeking to capture fleeting moments on the street, we really only have 1/500th of a second to do it in. This refers to the speed the shutter of the camera opens and closes in. Not long is it? And that's what he says. I've watched this video several times now and each time it makes more and more sense: I have seen for example in one image I took, a young woman who looks on the verge of tears judging by the way she's holding her mouth. But in actual fact she was laughing and chatting with a friend as they walked. I just caught her in that 1/500th of a second.

The way I use my camera is that I tell it what aperture to use. This means I determine the size of the hole through which light passes to the sensor in the camera. The camera then sets a shutter speed which will give the best (in its opinion) results. After watching Mr Free's video again today I thought I would look at some of my recent photographs and find one that had a shutter speed of 1/500th of a second. What I did was pick one pretty much at random out of three candidates. And you can see that above.

Who is it? What's it a photo of? I hear your questions. Well, this image represents, among so many other things, 1/500th of a second of this young man's life. Not a long time, you might be thinking, in the big scheme that is a single human lifespan. So, we see a young man, caught in a flash of a second. What else is there in this photo to give us a clue to those other who, what, where, when, why and how questions. There is a wire fence through which he is looking; there is a set of hands behind him clutching the wire fence. Then there seem to be blurred figures behind him in the background.

We can look at his clothes, his reversed baseball cap. That could give us a clue. Maybe. We see the word "Original" on the cap. Another clue? Perhaps. We see a metal ring piercing his lip. Now we're getting somewhere! Well maybe, maybe not.

And this is where I must offer an apology. I am sorry, but I can't tell you anything about this photograph. Well it's not so much that I can't; it's more that I won't. You see, I am a street photographer, an artist at large you might say. My job is to capture that "decisive moment" as the master Cartier-Bresson described it. Or the 1/500th of a second as the great John Free has labelled it. Something in the moment before I aimed the camera, then pressed the shutter, made me do it. I can't say what it is. Call it intuition, call it instinct. Or you could even call it an artist's sensibility to the environment and situation.

You see, it is you, the viewer of this image who has to answer the questions. But, you reply, how could we possibly know? We weren't there were we? That's true: I was there, you were not. The gift that street photographers give to the world is this: we offer you fragments of time, decisive moments, fractions of seconds, tiny tiny slices of lives as they are lived in all their day to day ordinariness and banality. We also offer you, sometimes at least, dramatic slices of life, humorous fragments, sad fractions. That's what we do as artists: we communicate our vision of the world in our own medium at a given moment. For me, it is that 1/500th of a second.

I invite your stories of what this image is telling us. This is not a trivial "guessing game" or quiz; this is an exercise in bringing into life stories. It doesn't matter really what the 'facts' are; the key thing is what truth can be told through art, through this particular 1/500th of a second.

Peace to you all.

Do Not Forsake Me: A Portrait For Our Times

All the casualties that I've left behind.
And I, and I hide them in the corners of my mind
All the memories, nothing I could sing.
I've learned so many things, but the bitterness remains.
I'm sick of drying everybody else's tears, with nobody to dry mine.
Don't, don't forsake me.
Why do you break me every time?
I'm asking you, don't, don't forsake me. Why do you break me? Again and again.
I can't make it alone.
All the judges and all the disarray.
You keep on trying me, but you're only pushing me away.
I don't want you to go, but I can't tell you're here.
You're just another soul that I'm making disappear.
I'm sick of drying everybody else's tears, with nobody to dry mine                                               


Used with thanks to Duffy the Welsh singer and whoever actually wrote these beautiful lyrics

Man Jumps Puddle: A Multi-Part Review of Henri Cartier-Bresson Part 2

This is the second part of my little review on Henri Cartier-Bresson. It is not meant to be a long lecture, description or analysis; it is designed to provide a quick analysis of the image and to thus provide inspiration or food for thought on the issues or ideas covered briefly in the text. The review takes off exactly where it left off after Part One.

The four images in this review illustrate the photographer’s strong emphasis on composition and his ability to capture the decisive moment.

In the image of a man jumping a puddle (1932), we see the photographer’s knack of knowing precisely when that moment is coming. The image is tightly framed, drawing our eye to the decisive moment: the leap.

You see? Short and to the point. Here the image is the thing that speaks volumes and is allowed to speak loudest and unencumbered with my words.
Thank you.

The Decisive Moment That Lead to the Decisive Moment: A Multi-Part Review of Henri Cartier-Bresson Part 1

Three Boys at Lake Tanganyika

 

Henri Cartier-Bresson (1908 – 2004), is considered a pioneer of photojournalism. Initially a painter, he turned to photography in order to ‘testify with a quicker instrument than a brush’ 

Seeing Three Boys at Lake Tanganyika (1930) by Hungarian photographer Martin Munkaski, Cartier-Bresson understood that, ‘photography could reach eternity through the moment’. He realised the potential of the camera to capture the ‘decisive moment’.

Using a 35mm camera with 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.

Cartier-Bresson insisted on strong composition. He used the viewfinder to frame subjects precisely, preferring to crop the image in the camera.

He shot in Black and White because he regarded the camera as simply a ‘sketchbook’. It's as simple as this. In a sense this lays to rest the black and white versus colour debate to a degree: For this "master" the choice was not one of aesthetics; it was merely practical choicefor this photographer.

This is the first in a several post series which together make up a small review of a great artist and a personal role model.