Hey, take my picture!

A dialogue about street photography.

“Hey, take my picture!” the shout coming out of the blue, time and time again, the words headed in my direction even if I didn’t know the source. My spine would stiffen as my hands held the camera tight, my right forefinger finding the shutter release. I would debate whether to look and engage, or pretend I didn’t hear.

Carrying a camera in an urban downtown area ignites both suspicion and intrigue. We may ask ourselves “Is that a journalist? Is something about to happen?” or more sinister thoughts “What is the photographer looking for? Do I need to disappear into the closest alleyway?”

As I tried so many different techniques, mimicking the masters in hopes of finding my own style, I ventured into street photography early on. My heart pounding, my visual senses on full alert, becoming the predator, looking for a shot, trying to make my six foot two inch frame invisible while walking through crowds in downtown Charlotte, or New York, or San Francisco.

Photograph shot in 1975 in downtown Charlotte, North Carolina.

In searching through my archives, I found these images, taken in 1975 - the first several months ago just of the couple. I wondered about the back story. Did I surreptitiously photograph them sitting on a park bench? The contact sheet only had two frames, which usually indicates the photographic moment was exactly that. A moment. The second image I found yesterday - of me, talking with the subjects. Making a human connection. I must say I felt relieved when I found this photo.

The author talking with the subjects. Shot on a Nikon using Kodak Tri-X film.

I have always been conflicted about street photography, uncomfortable taking someone’s photograph without their knowledge. In the commercial world, model releases were always agreed upon and signed. But snapping an image without permission felt different even though the image may only be for artistic or editorial use.

Throughout photographic history, there are many great street photographers, work that I admire. Henri Cartier-Bresson pioneered the “decisive moment” in the early 1930s. I studied his work, trying to learn why he clicked the shutter at that exact moment. Trying to put myself inside his mind, trying to imitate his instincts.

I learned from those early days that street photography was not my strength. The nervousness and the pounding heartbeat were addictive but I needed to find another way to channel that energy. I needed to find a way to work with a subject within a world where the energy would flow both ways.

Let’s start a dialogue: What are your thoughts about street photography?