Two Can be the Loneliest Number (sometimes but not always)

One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do
Two can be as bad as one
It's the loneliest number since the number one

So opens that wonderful song One written by Harry Nielson and made really famous by Three Dog Night who recorded their version in 1969. Practically everyone else has recorded a cover of the song since then: from the Muppets, to the New Seekers all the way through to the Australian singer Johnny Farnham. You might have even heard the song on an X Files soundtrack. Why, even Lisa Simpson has had a go with this one (in The Simpsons Episode 553 for all you fans out there).

But, today we're here to talk about line number two: Two can be as bad as one. It isn't always, though, as I suggest in the title of this post. During my time on the street I get to witness scenes, lovely and not so lovely, inhabited by two people. Sometimes they are sweet and tender moments like this,

A Kiss Goodbye (Lisbon Portugal June 2013)

And then there are those sweet and romantic moments, moments when I know that there is love in the air, like this one (if I'd been any closer I would have been sitting at the table with them, yet they didn't notice me at all),

Romance and a Special Date (Katoomba Australia May 2014)

You could say that, as these two photographs show, two is not a bad number at all. In fact you might say it's a great number, one of the best! But, often I see scenes, and witness moments that don't seem quite so love filled. Of course sometimes the scenes are what we might term neutral, such as this scene inhabited by two people who are clearly strangers to each other

A Seat to Oneself (Perth Australia January 2014)

This, as we see, is a simple scene on a railway station platform, one person waiting, another just walking on by. Other times, the two people may be strangers, but there seems somehow to be a connection of some sort; a story we can imagine. Or perhaps the scene could be seen as symbolic in some way for some viewers. As in these pictures,

Every Face Tells a Story (Melbourne Australia December 2012)

Strangers in a Park (Perth Australia December 2013)

But, more often than you might imagine, I witness and get to share in moments involving people who might be known to each other or might not. Like in this one,

Not on Speaking Terms (Melbourne Australia June 2012)

As you can probably guess from the title, I have imagined these two as known to each other, but not on speaking terms. Someone has suggested they are father and son who've had a falling out. Who can say? One of the mysteries of the street.  Sometimes (again more often than you might imagine), I am privileged to witness and share moments of high (or perhaps the correct adjective is low) emotion between two people who it is clear are known to each other. Like these for example,

 It's Just Not Working Out (Echuca Australia July 2011)

 Sisters Thinking (Ramsgate England February 2013)

So Much for Our Happy Holiday (Echuca Australia April 2012)

Then there are those scenes and moments that exude emotion, but whether that emotion is a positive or a negative one, can't be worked out. Such as in this one,

La conversation intime entre deux amis (Melbourne Australia August 2011)

Is this simply an intimate conversation between friends as the title suggests? Or is it something deeper, more serious? We can only imagine. Whatever the emotions detected or being experienced by the people in these scenes, I do not treat images such as this lightly. The people photographed are sharing with me something of their personal and private lives. I can't, of course, know exactly what they are experiencing or thinking or feeling; my role is to share and record the moment. Emotions witnessed or recorded are of, of course, sometimes more positive, happier even. Such as this where the two people seem to be sharing a joke or a private happy moment,

I'm Saying Nothing (Katoomba Australia April 2014)

Again, I have no idea what these two are talking about, or thinking or feeling. It's just that the scene feels to me more positive, lighter. Still, it is a private moment and I am grateful to have been there to share it.

A good street photograph will evoke an emotional response in the viewer. And if the image itself has people expressing an emotion, then all the better. It makes it easier for us as viewers and fellow human beings to empathize and perhaps even understand what's going on, how the people photographed are feeling. A little glimpse can be gained into the emotional lives of others.

One last thought about the number two. There are scenes one sees on the street where the number two is both good and bad, depending on who's who. In such cases it is often the eyes that will tell you that three is most definitely a crowd

Holding Tight (Melbourne Australia June 2014)

PICK OF THE WEEK: Some scenes just make you sad

Self Portrait for Two (Melbourne Australia June 2014)

On the face of it you might not think there is much in this image to make me or you or anyone sad. Especially, you might tell me, given the number of images we are seeing everyday of people who are homeless, people who are experiencing trauma or who are in some other way vulnerable or disadvantaged. And of course, on the face of it, you would be totally correct: images of those kinds of things are distressing and make me, and you, and most likely a lot of people, very sad. Hopefully they also serve as a call to action for some of us. Hopefully photography in that context can contribute to change.

Sadly, however, far too many of the photographs I see of homeless and other disadvantaged and vulnerable people have an aura of exploitation about them. Oftentimes for so-called street photographers, these groups provide little more than "easy targets" for a "gritty and real street shot". In reality they provide nothing more than a kind of trophy for the photographer. But that is another story for another day.

Back to this photograph, made on one of the busiest corners in the CBD of Melbourne. These two people are (obviously) making a self portrait of themselves. They are standing diagonally across the road from the beautiful and historic Flinders Street railway station. A must see for tourists to the city. 

So, what is so sad here? Surely this is simply two tourists making a souvenir photo of themselves? And they are smiling aren't they? All good questions. Again, on the face of it, nothing is untoward here. And really even not on the face of it, I can't say there is anything untoward here. 

It's just that I watched them for a while as they were setting up the camera and tripod, and then the guy arranged his partner n just the right place, set the timer and joined her on the other side of the camera, and the photo was made. As they went about this process it was as if they were in a little world of their own. The crowds flowed around them, nobody (except me) even glancing in their direction. And, more poignantly, they didn't look at anyone else either in the whole time I was watching them and then making this photograph. I was about two meters away from them for five minutes and they didn't once look my way. I am quite sure they didn't even see me.  It was if they truly were alone on this busy intersection.

There just seemed to be something sad about the whole scenario. To me anyway. A sense of loneliness took hold of me as I watched them. And, really, that's all I can say. I don't have an explanation for why I felt the way I did. I mean, I often pick up emotions, become affected by what I see and feel on the street. And it's not always possible to pinpoint what causes a feeling or a sense.

Anyway, a good street photograph is one that causes an emotional reaction in the viewer. And it could be added that an even better street photograph is one that causes an emotional reaction in the photographer. One thing I can say is this: if sometimes I do have an emotional reaction to a scene I witness, then it suggests that at least some viewers will also have an emotional response of some kind. And, to me, that is a very good outcome indeed.

Peace

PICK OF THE WEEK: Working with children and animals

Spotted by the Kid (Katoomba Australia April 2014)

Kids and dogs are the ones that always see the man with the cam

I made this photograph a couple of days ago and just tonight, after posting it on a photo sharing site, a friend made the really groovy little quote above in his comments. And I thought, yes, it's true: even when the adults don't notice me, the children and dogs quite often do. For some reason it always surprises me and oftentimes I don't notice they've noticed me till later when I see the image on the screen.

As some of you know already, I do not mind in the least if I am noticed, or if people see my camera. Rather than "losing the moment" as is so often quoted as a reason to not be noticed, I think that being seen by the people (or animals!) being photographed can create another kind of moment, even a special one. Just like in today's Pick. 

I ask myself, and I ask you, would this be the image it is if the young boy hadn't seen me and looked up at the camera? I don't think it would. In fact, I actually think this is rather a good photograph of a charming ordinary everyday kind of scene. And now it is out there in the world for all to see and perhaps it will even generate a smile or two along the way.

And in fact I hope this boy's mum or dad sees the image and contacts me. I reckon they'd love a copy!

Georgia: Recording life on the streets of Perth as it happens

Allow me to introduce you to Georgia, who I met while working on the street in downtown Perth on New Years Day.
I had just made a photograph of another person, one I wouldn't normally ever make, but for some reason I was drawn to the man who, clearly down on his luck, was sleeping along the wall of an upmarket store, Just as I made the photo, a passerby yelled that I should get permission before photographing someone in the street. He added: "How would you like it if someone took your photo in that condition?".
Instantly I knew he was right. Not about the permission, but the second bit.  I very rarely if ever photograph people who are homeless or otherwise vulnerable. In fact, it's a strong rule I always follow (I plan to write about this subject in some depth soon).  But, what happened next, gave me the answer to why I'd been drawn to photograph that poor man as he slept.
"Don't listen to them. You have to take those photos." This voice reached me just as I was walking away thinking about what had just happened. I turned and came face to face with Georgia. She told me that she was writing what she saw on the street. She kind of implied that this was what she was meant to be doing, that "the guy upstairs" wanted her to make a record.
"I'm thinking of calling it Hell on Earth after all the things I've seen," she told me. We chatted for a while about the importance of bearing witness to life as it passes us by. Georgia went on to tell me that she just goes where, and does what, she feels she is meant to do. Like the time she took in a young woman with a small baby she found alone in the city sitting with bags of belongings, but with nowhere to go.
"I took her home, fed her and the baby. She stayed a while, then the Salvos found her a place to live." Georgia reckons that her God had put her in the right place at the right time to help.
So, what had Georgia meant when she shouted to me 'You have to take those photos"? I've been giving this a lot of thought the last couple of days. First, she was telling me that I have to bear witness. Of course for many of us in the arts, bearing witness is oftentimes the very reason we do what we do. I know it is for me. As I say, I hardly ever photograph homeless people; but on that day I did. I suppose you could say that I was bearing witness; I was acknowledging my brother human, while most if not all simply passed by without even a glance or thought, much less any kind of empathy.
But, and it's a big but for me, I have never felt adequate to the task of properly bearing witness for the more vulnerable people I encounter in the streets. Besides, way too many of those I like to call "so-called" street photographers (the ones who simply play at the genre guided by their egos and a "hunting" mentality), snap away at homeless people, at people down on their luck, because they are "easy targets". I despise this approach and steer away from it as much as I can.
So, why me? Why is it me who has to "take those photos"? Well this hasn't been so easy for me to answer despite my deep reflection. Then, literally five minutes ago as I took a "Facebook break" from writing this, I saw a short post shared on my timeline. The quote reads:

Sometimes the detour is the path.

Perhaps. At least one thing can be said: Taking the detour I did when I photographed the homeless man sleeping, led me to meeting Georgia, who is bearing witness, who is seeing life go by in all its shades and making a record of what she sees and hears. That's why I've called this portrait of her, Georgia, the Life Writer. 
Peace

The Stare of the Ex-eeRoadie

I am assuming we all know what a roadie is? False assumption? Yes, well a roadie is a person who travels with a band and does all the heavy lifting. You know the things like setting up the stage, unpacking instruments, carrying the can when something goes wrong. You know? Oh, sometimes they also make coffee, make sandwiches and generally are there to help the band to do its thing.
    Well, this guy is an ex roadie. Which means he used to do all the above and, by the look of his tired and weathered face, a whole lot more. Anyway, he's retired now, and I found him just sitting back enjoying some very cool Blues music at a festival recently held in the town I live in. He isn't a rich man: I mean, a roadie doesn't earn much at the best of times, and a retired roadie, well, he's not much good for anything else is he? He says he was too busy out there on the road and had no time for all that extra schooling that getting a "qualification" would have meant. Besides, there was a lot of fun to be had!
      Our friend here does manage from time to time to pick up a bit of light work with the odd band here and there. But, after lugging heavy gear like speakers and other stuff for years, his back isn't what it used to be. Anyway, his lungs aren't too good either after spending too many years in smoky venues with the bands he worked for.
      But, he gets by. That's what he wants me to know. What with the dole and the odd casual gig, he even manages to get to the odd concert or festival. He likes to keep his hand and his ear in the loop so to speak. He is on the whole a happy chappy who wouldn't change one minute of his life. He's earned those wrinkles and he's damn proud of every one, okay?
      Now I have a bit of bad news for you dear blog reader. A lot of the facts above are just not facts. I made a lot of it up. Surprised? Of course you are. Anyway, here's the thing: What have I made up? And what facts are for real?
      Can't say? Of course you can't. You weren't there. You don't know this guy. Why some of you don't even know me! You give up? Okay I will tell you. Here are the facts:
1. I was the photographer
2. The picture was made at the Blues Festival as I said
3.The guy is a man (well I think he is anyway)
     And that's it. I have no idea what he does or did for a living; I didn't speak to him. Not a word. So there really are only those three (sort of) facts known to me, and therefore to you dear reader(s). But, I have another question for you. Do I or you know for sure that the other "facts" in the little tale above are false? Of course we can't know can we?. We could, I think, make an educated guess about what this guy does or did for a living. But at the end of the day it would be just that: a guess. We could guess that his weathered face was caused by hard work and/or hard living. Again, just a guess. And who can say anything about the state of his health? That part of my little story really just flowed from all the other bits I made up.
    My point is this. A photograph does indeed tell us stories. There is, at least in this kind of portrait made on the street, a narrative that can be drawn from the picture. As we have just read, facts are few and far between in this kind of street work, especially when it is a case of making photographs on the run as I do.
    But what about truth? Just because my facts are invented, does that mean there is no truth present here? No, I don't think it means that at all. Here we have a man, a "middle-aged' man (sorry not a term I like but you get the picture) with "hair" and a weathered face. He was at a music festival and he looked very satisfied with the situation thank you very much.
    No. I think what I have managed to do in this image, and with my little invented biography above, is capture some essence of truth; some fragment of a reality not my own; some little piece of the life of another person. I would now like to make  reference (as I have several times in the past and as I no doubt will again in the future) to a cliche, that, after all, being a cliche must contain some element of a truth.
    I am a story teller. In the current context I tell stories through the magical (in my humble opinion) medium of photography, more specifically, street photography. As a story teller, I am given (by whom I am not sure: perhaps by the gods of Art?) licence to tell stories in which, while the facts may be invented, there is at least  the essence of truth. This essence goes beyond mundane facts and appeals to the heart and soul of the audience. That's you by the way.
I have a challenge for you. I challenge you to come back to me and tell me your mind wasn't engaged, nor your heart touched and your soul remained un-shifted. I bet you can't do it! Why am I so sure? Because I have given this image life, with the very able assistance of the gentle man in the image. (Well I don't know if he is a gentle man or not; he just looks like one to me. Okay?)
I think this discussion should now be turned over to you, my valued and dear readers.
Peace to you all
Paul