2017 Reflections

According to Lightroom folders, I’ve taken about 20% more photos this year than in 2016. I already shoot too many. Of course, the number on file is nothing compared to the number taken - I delete a huge proportion of the number I take. And, I guess, like any street photographer, many of these will include the nearly shots - the ones that would’ve been classics if I hadn’t missed a head off or framed the action too far off the edge, or forgotten to switch the camera on/insert SD card/bring extra batteries. Ah the ones that got away.

2017....

Crucially, have I improved? As Yoda puts it in the latest Star Wars movie “The greatest teacher failure is.” Perhaps this is the new hope - that we continue to learn from our mistakes. I have to believe I have and looking back at last year’s photographs I certainly feel that this year’s crop are more knowing, more intelligent. They have probably lost a certain innocence or naivety. That, in itself, may not be such a good thing. It isn’t good if my images have simply aligned themselves to others' perception of what makes a good shot. I hope that I have maintained an essence of me and even developed a more recognisable style. I still try to take the pictures that I want to see - rather than trying to conform to someone one else’s view of what works.

This year I have even discovered the joys of printing. For as long as I’ve been taking photos seriously they have existed only on a computer screen or a mobile device. My first exhibition at the tail end of the year necessitated finding out about printing and seeing the first fifteen black and white images printed was such a proud moment, eager to unwrap them at my desk and showing any poor soul who happened to be passing. Thanks to the Printspace for doing such a great job. The exhibition was a far greater success than I could ever have dreamt and I loved giving my talk - who knew I’d love talking so much? (Ahem!) Following the exhibition, some of the prints now hang in my home and in my office and I do still enjoy seeing them, adding to the sense that I am shooting the shots I would like to see. Long may that last.

A year ago my website was only a few months old. A year on, blogging hasn’t exactly been frantic but it has been fairly regular and consistent - enough to see the site in the top 50 street photography websites online - though I wonder how many there are… I’ve bashed away on Instagram and Twitter and seen my following increase, now approaching the 1,100 mark on instagram (not huge but not nothing). More importantly, as a result of plugging away on these I secured an interview and feature with Digital Photographer (Issue 195) and a feature on www.streetphotography.com. Both of which I thoroughly enjoyed.

Honestly, if you’d told me at the beginning of 2017 that by the end I’d have achieved half of the things above I would have struggled to believe it. I’ve been very lucky and very well supported. You know who you are... thank you.

Artistically, my photographs are better. I know they are because I am more fussy about quality control and what I will allow through. I have improved my editing workflow and become better - more subtle but still with some way to go especially with colour. I have honed a style that uses sub framing a lot and is better for it. I have improved my techniques with night shots and my street work is now more about capturing well composed moments and not simply catching a passer by on the way to the supermarket.

So, if could go back a year, what advice would I give myself?

1. Believe in what you’re doing especially the black and white - and be true to your vision of what is right.
2. Keep pushing the social media on a regular basis. Blog too whenever you can.
3. Don’t underestimate the value of just sitting and looking at pictures - online, in a book or a gallery. If that doesn’t sit comfortably with your Protestant work ethic, then think of it as high class training for the eyes.

Published and not damned

Photographically, things have built to something of a head in the last weeks of 2017 for me. Having finished an exhibition which proved to be more successful than I could ever imagine, I find myself featured in the December 2017 edition (195) of Digital Photographer - available across the planet, they tell me. And online at www.dphotographer.co.uk

For some one who only ever saw their photography on a screen until a few weeks ago, it’s a bit of a head spin. Now I see my images aligned professionally with text and formatting ... and everything. And they look all right! Actually, to coin the old joke about the chap who was run over by a steam train - I’m chuffed to bits. 

So, if you’re near a newsagent and not snowed under five feet of white stuff then wend your merry way down to the High Street and check out my eight page feature. 

Street Photography Gold

London, December 2017.

Here I am sitting on a train; being jolted over ageing rails on a weakened weekend service. It’s dark. There’s frost and the temperature is trying to decide which side of zero to settle at. The sun is straining to pull itself up at the windows of this Sunday service and everything tells me I should have stayed in bed.

I look out at the backs of blurred houses with their curtains drawn and the occasional dim orange bedroom light. I pat my camera bag as if to reassure myself. I mentally inspect it’s contents - camera, headphones, wallet...

I’m tired. I’m cold. I’m hungry and I’m in bad need of a coffee.

But I’m buzzing. The morning stretches a ahead of me with the hope of returning with the best shots I’ve ever taken. That’s what’s brought me here. Passion.

I doff my hat to those dedicated landscape shooters who drive through the night for the slim chance of a magic moment of light that will give them a unique shot of a much captured vista; waiting for hour after hour at some fabled tripod worn patch of earth. I don’t have that patience.

I keep moving. Always looking. Keen to catch that elusive moment, a hunter seeking out a fast disappearing instant before it becomes extinct.

This is what drives me - a fear of missing something that I’ll never capture again.

Yet I know that the majority of what I return with will be destined for the bin, culled before it’s seen the light of day. There may be one or two shots worth saving, nurturing, bringing to fruition - time will tell.

But, despite the efforts involved in bringing home just a few shots, I keep doing this. Panning for street photography gold. Maybe it is precisely that low return on investment that has me hooked; a promise of one or two golden moments; my fix.

And as the train pulls into the station and the city blinks awake to welcome me, opening its arms and it’s coffee bars, I grab my coat, my hat and head for the sunny side of the street...

Unfinished Symphonies

I never thought knowing when to stop would be so difficult.

I know that for many photographers the actual decisive moment of pressing the shutter is the moment they live for. They carry their fresh new image, hermetically sealed and protected, back to their darkroom, Lightroom or whatever their chosen editing suite is and enjoy the moment of revelation when the image they have brought home with them will be revealed for all to see. They believe that time spent on processing is time that could be better spent pounding the street, seeking out new vistas for that elusive sunrise or framing up new poses for their latest model.

Don’t get me wrong, I do enjoy that. But (whisper it) I also enjoy processing my images. Most of my images are grabbed in 1/500 of a second but I can often spend far longer adjusting exposure, contrast, clarity, dodging and burning in the warmth and comfort of my own home. And I can drink coffee while I do!

Then there’s the moment when processing is complete and I can convert the image into a JPEG ready for posting online - frozen forever in its finished state like some prehistoric creature beneath the ice of the Arctic never to change again.

For the first time since I’ve been taking photography seriously I recently had a dozen large black and white images printed (thank you The Printspace - top job). There was a bit of preparation that needed doing to ensure that they reached the printers in the way that was best for them but these were basically the finished JPEG’s that I had tweaked, honed and so proudly posted online to a good reception.

However, one thing I wasn’t prepared for was the feeling that I had finished. There was to be no more tweaking, no more considering, no more trying different presets - this was what they were going to look like. Forever!

Two days later they arrived, securely wrapped and shielded in their cardboard armour. Unwrapping them eagerly, I was blown away. Not only did they actually look finished, they looked great - somehow, exactly how I had envisioned them (well dur....). How could I have created such large and professional looking prints? Yet, deep inside, there was that niggle that no matter how much I wanted to, there was no longer anything I could do to interfere for better or for worse. It was not unlike raising children to adulthood and sending them off into the world to make their own way. The images are out there now.

Not only that, they are installed in their own exhibition space - don’t even start me on what it was like leaving them wrapped and in the hands of the curator!

But, still, I must learn from this; learn to finish more and free them to be bold and confident just as they are.

Talking Street

Come and join me as I talk about how I shoot street.

Thursday 30th November - an evening opportunity to enjoy The Seeing Eye exhibition at Farnham Pottery - then sit back and listen as I share my philosophy and techniques for street photography, with opportunities to view recent work.

For more info: The Seeing Eye

The Frame With No Name

If you read my last blog you will know that I am in the process of preparing for my first exhibition. When I say “my exhibition,” I have a small space to myself alongside five other photographers. But it’s my space. And I love it. Or, at least, I will.

Hyde Park Shower

I’ve learned a lot in the last few days. Decided who will print the photographs; narrowed in on a few potential paper types; worked out the optimum sizes; considered framing and not framing and decided on framing; looked at an unbelievable range of shades of white....

I’ve even met my framer.

And all the decisions have been mine. Something I guess I’m not used to. No one else's opinions to listen to this time. I suppose it doesn’t really matter to anyone else. It’s my show.

And as the options narrow as each decision is made, one decision begins to loom large. 

Should I title my photographs?

One of the things that draws me to street photography is the way it captures a place and event in time. I remember looking at early photographs of my home town and imagining how it must have been to have lived there decades before - no cars; long-since-disappeared timber framed houses where they “put up a parking lot,” and so on. Glimpses of the past still fascinate me. Today, there’s remains something in me which needs to record dates and places. That’s fine. So perhaps I should scrawl Paris, August 2017 alongside a cafe scene. But then again, do I need to broadcast those alongside the photograph for everyone else just because I’m interested? My framers suggests not recording the place because people then bring their own interpretation. A scene that appeals to them, and perceive as being London could turn out to be Berlin. What may be Paris for some could be London, or Barcelona for others...

But why do I feel the need to add a title? Perhaps it’s the story teller in me. The best street photography undoubtedly hints at ( or even broadcasts) a narrative. Does a title steer it too heavily or does it enable the viewer to see it a little more as the photographer saw it?

Maybe it’s another way of fixing a particular shot in the memory. When you’ve left the exhibition, turned the page or browsed to another site, how do you conjure up the memory of the image if you have no words to do so? Can you really recall a particular shot if it is simply referred to by the way the light falls across a scene and who it falls upon? How do you refer to it in conversation?

So, having written this, I’ve decided that my framed photographs will be titled. Probably place-less. I like the fact that each shot is part of an untold story. Sometimes the stories will fit together in a longer narrative. Sometimes they stand alone. Whether they are true representations, or entirely imagined snaps from a fragment of time, is irrelevant. They exist. And they deserve a name. Like children.

I need your help.

Yesterday I visited Farnham Pottery Arts (www.thefarnhampottery.co.uk, an old working pottery close to home that was rescued from the property developers to become an arts centre and a home for several professional potters and other kick-wheel enthusiasts. It’s a fabulously creative place. You can feel as soon as you step inside.

The reason for my visit is that in a few weeks’ time my very first public exhibition of my photographs will be held there. I’m down on the bill of five other photographers in the series The Seeing Eye which is looking at how artists (in this case photographers) respond to their environment. For me, specifically, the street. It’s hugely flattering.

Unlike those who shot back in the good old bad old days, my photos exist on screen only - in the cloud, on my MacBook, my phone, my website, Instagram, Twitter, 500px, Facebook - almost everywhere. Just nowhere that you can actually reach out and touch them. And this poses a multitude of questions. In fact, the learning curve seems akin to scaling Everest at the moment - there are so many decisions to make.

I need your help…

I have a small space - low down the bill, (did I mention that?) - so choosing a handful of my current faves shouldn’t kill me. However, …then what?

How do I go about finding the right place to get them printed?

What paper?

What ink?

What size?

And what about mounting? Or unmounted?

How much should I charge to any interested buyers?

Who knew Everest was also surrounded by a minefield?

I would be genuinely grateful of any tips, pointers or "don’t do’s" that any of you may come up with to any of these questions (except the Everest one). Comment below or email me hugh@hughrawson.com

And if you’re in Surrey between 7th Nov and 7th Dec this year then chug along to Farnham Pottery to support me and the other more famous five…

Camera settings for street photography - The Fastest Gun in the West

I can't remember which cartoon Quick Draw McGraw came from (turns out it was his own show www.youtube.com/watch?v=X9Nh7xIh8Og), but I'm often reminded of him when I'm in the zone for a good day shooting candid photography on the streets. Part of the appeal of street photography for me is the fast nature of it. It reminds me of hunting - not that I have ever hunted or ever plan to. I'm sure that the same basic instincts, of going undetected and making the most of the element of surprise, apply to both street photography and hunting. After all, we don't call it “shooting street” for nothing.

The fast nature of street photography is diametrically opposed to the careful planning and on-the-spot preparations involved in landscape photography. I listen to landscape photographers describe how they walked for two hours in darkness, then set up and waited another hour for the possibility of the right shooting conditions for that one, meticulously planned shot. I think, sheesh, I'd have bagged around four hundred shots in that time. Granted, 390 would probably be pretty much instantly trashed - but I'd still be nine shots up, warm, and never too far from a decent double espresso. 

When I'm on the street, my camera is ready and my eye is in full anticipation mode. I'm scanning ahead for anything that may prove shot-worthy: a movement, a gesture, a colour that contrasts or complements a background, a striking change in light... And my finger is hovering over the shutter button. I'm ready.

Anticipation is a massive part of my armoury. It's not something you can buy but people watching is something you either do or you don't. The more you do, the better you become at anticipating. However, knowing that the smartly dressed gentleman in the fedora is going to turn around to talk to his partner before they reach the corner is no good if I miss the shot because my camera isn't ready.

Deciding on the right settings is very much a matter of personal choice. For me, I generally want to avoid any movement blur.  This means shooting with a shutter speed that will eliminate any chance of this. To freeze most people walking the streets I find that 1/500th of a second is about right. 1/250th of a second is just too slow for me while I am holding the camera, walking through the crowd towards people who are also moving towards me, and preparing to shoot at any given (decisive) moment.

Aperture is even more a matter of personal choice, dependant on the desired effect. There are those who feel that shooting street should be about documentary photography - an accurate record with everything as sharp as possible and an almost infinite depth of field. If that's you then you will need to shoot at an aperture of f8 - or smaller (upwards). Personally, my photography is generally individuals and their stories. I don't mind a narrow depth of field with background (or sometimes foreground) melting away. I will even shoot wide open - especially with the Fujifilm 56mm f1.2 (85mm equivalent) because the softness of the background, and the beautiful light it creates, often prove irresistible. This is especially so at night when the amount of light is an issue but there is also the opportunity for beautifully blurred background lights or bokeh.

Wide open shooting is not without its challenges though. The shallow depth of field can easily mean that the main point of focus is not sharp, especially when shooting from the hip and not using a viewfinder. Shooting wide open also brings the risk of over exposure, especially on a bright afternoon in the city. Review your shot and keep an eye on your histogram, lowering the ISO, increasing the shutter speed and/or narrowing the aperture until you achieve the balanced exposure that you want.

So, how do I achieve that balance? How do I balance that fast shutter speed of 1/320 - 1/500 of a second with my chosen aperture of, say, f4? The answer is Auto ISO. This is where it  comes into its own. Digital cameras are now so good at shooting in low light that as the ISO numbers rise you really don't need to worry too much. Even if some grain begins to creep into your images, don't panic. With street photography, a grainy image is often part of the style and tradition. Some street photographers even deliberately introduce their own grain to an otherwise clear photo in the post production stage.

Auto ISO allows me to set my shutter speed to 1/500 of a second, open up my aperture wide (f4, f2.8, f1.2…heck) then trust my camera to balance the ISO and deliver a well exposed image.

So, in summary, my settings for street photography are generally these:

1. Shutter speed 1/500 of a second.

2. Aperture wider than f8 and often wide open

3. Auto ISO

It's all a matter of personal taste. There is no set of rules. However, these settings are a good starting point for anyone to begin to find their style, reducing shutter speed for more blur in their image or reducing aperture size (increasing the f number) in order to have more of the image sharp and in focus.

Try it. let me know. Perhaps you will be the quickest draw in the west - or at least your local High Street.

Big Shooter - Little Shooter

Recently I wrote about how the character, nature and interests of a photographer impact upon the work they produce (The You-ness of You). I said that we should follow our instincts and impulses - listen to our stomachs. This brings out the You-ness of You!

Check It Out - London March 2017

All of this is well and good but in order to be able to produce what you want - the image you see in your head before you click the shutter - you need to have a basic understanding of your camera. Indeed, you need to choose your camera. Big or small?

The nature of street photography means that the photographer seeks to be as unobtrusive as possible in order to capture the natural course of events that are playing out before them. A small, compact camera then? Possibly.

Picture taking has become ubiquitous. Since phones evolved into cameras, with the advent of the iPhone ten years ago, you only need to take a stroll down your High Street to be presented with gaggles of posturing teens shooting selfies. If you visit a tourist area it's hard to duck the panoramic sweep of the arm's length pirouette as someone captures 180 degrees of memories on their phone. All of this does make it less unusual to be out taking photographs. 

Take a look around though, and the number of people shooting with cameras is far outweighed by those who use their phones. Nothing wrong with that - the quality of phone cameras continues to improve and astound. Indeed, some street photographers simply use their phone and nothing else. After all, it's so easy to be discreet when you look like your texting your wife or ordering pizza, while actually capturing that silhouetted figure just clearing the puddle to reach the pavement on the other side.

Others, myself included, prefer to keep their phones as phones, games centres, notebooks, social media hubs etc. Call me old fashioned, I still carry a camera. Sometimes two.

It’s just that I’ve never fully resolved an ongoing debate with myself. Is it better to go small and discreet or large and bleedin' obvious?

Small and discreet is, well, less obvious. A small black camera against a black tee-shirt is almost unnoticeable. If you shoot from the hip, which I do a lot, it's quite likely to go unnoticed. When I bring it to my eye, it looks small and like the sort of thing a tourist would pack for the journey. No one thinks twice. I can also look like I'm fumbling with the controls, an idiot trying to make sense of this technological marvel in my hands, while actually I'm shooting anyone that comes near and registers on my street radar. All of these things help me pass off as some geek with a camera that's too complicated for him. "Apologies if you happen to end up in shot…"

On the other hand, I've also had days when I've taken the big guns out and shot with a DSLR, even with a 70-200mm lens attached on rare occasions. And I've got some really pleasing results. I'm not talking about differences in focal length (that can wait for another time). Carrying a large DSLR gives out a completely different message. It says "professional" or, at the very least, someone who knows what they're doing. By implication, it also says someone who is supposed to be there. People assume that you are taking photographs for "a reason" and that they just happen to be there, an innocent passer-by caught in the crossfire. Collateral damage if you like. Some even apologise for being in the way. Of course, what every street photographer really wants is to allow the scene to unfold as if they weren't there. But I do find that people usually just carry on and let you get on with "your job." In a strange way, you become a part of the street in a similar way to when you are shooting with your phone, or a small camera, simply because you look like you are meant to be there - much like the bench or that lamp post on the corner.

So, I still don’t know. Large, professional and at work or small, innocent and fumbling. It’s the results that count - not what you’re gazing down.

How about you? Let me know in the comments below...

Right as rain

"...it's surprising how quick a little rain can clear the streets."

These lines from Billy Bragg’s "The Saturday Boy" kept repeating in my ears as I sat and watched others shelter or run for cover on the rain soaked streets of Versailles earlier this August. If you don’t know the song, you should. It’s an absolute classic with lyrics that ring true on so many levels. You can find it here:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=2CBWDp71UPM

Cyclists have a maxim which states that there is no such thing as bad weather - just bad clothing. As a bit of a keen cyclist, I increasingly find myself taking this view with photography too. Okay; you don’t want to risk non-weather sealed cameras and lenses in a torrential downpour, but bad weather brings out some great opportunities for photographs. Grab your gear and get out there - wrap it up if you have to, or lurk by a misted window in your favourite cafe. It was good enough for Saul Leiter.

View fullsize

So here are some of the great opportunities Mother Nature flings your way:
 

• The light - some of the best light is to be had either side of the worst weather. After all, a glorious sunset relies on there being cloud in the sky. I don’t think I ever noticed clouds as much until I picked up a camera. Amazingly beautiful things. And if you process them in mono you can bring out so many shapes and textures. The contrast in light, especially if there’s a weather front moving across your viewfinder, can be incredibly dramatic. Use it. Expose for the highlights and then pull up the shadows - you’ll get the most amazing range of tones.
   
• People with other things on their mind - when it’s pouring down only the kids, the elderly and the photographers take their time. People have one thing on their mind and that is to get out of the wet as fast as their skidding feet can slide them. They’re not interested in the street photographer who happens to be watching their every slip. Take your time and shoot 'til your heart's content - or your SD card is full.
   
• Reflections - wet roads throw shadowy and colourful reflections of shapes and lights from traffic and signs, bringing great swathes of vibrant colour to what would otherwise be a dull street.

• Abstract shapes - not only do the reflections create abstract shapes but umbrellas appear, and even hats. Both of these old style, classic items of clothing can look great (even timeless) in a photograph. Close in on the details and angles of intersection and you can get some great abstract shots.
• Blur, bokeh and soft focus - the wet softens everything. Sharp lines become blurred. Distant lights come on and, with your lens wide open, become colourful distorted baubles (bokeh) in the background. Take advantage of this and shoot wide open so that only the focus of attention remains sharp while everything else is allowed to slide in the wet.
• Black and white - a good downpour very often seems to wash the colour from a scene. So shoot in black and white. You may have a camera which allows you to see a black and white version of what you shoot and either saves it as a jpeg in monochrome, or at least gives you an idea of what a processed RAW file could look like. For example, Fujifilm cameras have the ACROS film style which gives richly detailed black and white, as well as their Monochrome setting. There’s even a Sepia setting as well as their various colour film simulations. I always shoot in RAW to maintain the information in the file but will often convert my images to black and white in post processing.

So next time the weather's set for storm..."Grab your coat, Get your hat, Leave your worry on the doorstep..." just remember to pick up your camera and have fun.

The You-ness of You.

It's not surprising that photographers' work reflects their personalities, their interests and world views. After all, photography is about how we see the world and each of us, inevitably, sees it from our own perspective. This is more than the specific view point we have from the particular GPS coordinates that we happening to be occupying on the planet when we click the shutter. It's also more than whether you are lying on the ground or standing on a twenty feet tall stepladder at those GPS points. Those things matter. But they don't explain why several photographers working in the same place will take quite different images.

Le Journal - Etrechy, France. August 2017

No - I'm talking about what each individual brings to a shot. In other words, all of those things that make you individual. This means everything that makes you unique - especially your interests and your own character. The you-ness of you. After all, it is our interests and experiences which fine tune our eyes and brains into noticing things that may appeal or, indeed, shutting out those things that don't. 

Personally, I’ve been considering why I shoot street. Probably because I recognise that I don't have the patience to take beautiful landscape shots. I'd love to, and I do appreciate the artistry and skill that goes into them. However, I get restless and would be itching to move on after a few minutes rather than wait for the possibility of a change in the weather or a break in the cloud. And the idea of having to return the next day in the hope of a better outcome...forget it.

The street delivers rapidly changing situations and plenty of challenge. It’s this unpredictability that I am drawn to. Instead of being able to meticulous plan my shoot I never know quite what to expect. Of course, I can, and do, check whether to expect rain, sun or snow - after all, I need to know whether it's a tee shirt or anorak day. But the weather doesn't determine whether it's worth going out or not. Harsh sunlight brings out stark shadows, rain brings out umbrellas, reflections and people in a hurry. All weathers have their unique advantages. But simply checking the weather is nothing compared to the level of planning that goes into a landscape or studio shot, for example.

I do think and plan my day - much in the same way that anyone visiting a town or city might do. It will revolve around specific places where I can expect to see a variety of people and interesting backdrops - which may or may not be the same as tourist hotspots; often not!

I plan my kit - more of this in a future blog - but that's now pretty routine. I know the camera I will take and the settings are virtually scorched in through use.

Most importantly, it is my character that I take with me and, as a street photographer, this is something I am very aware of. Most of the time my street photography persona remains folded away with my invisibility cloak and bow-tie camera, only coming out when time allows on holidays and weekends. By day I am a junior school headteacher. This is a career around reading people; understanding how they behave and why, as well as anticipating what they are going to do next - skills which I find invaluable on the street. 

I believe my photographs reflect this understanding and the anticipation which I use in order to get the shots. I will pick up on what is going on in a scene fairly quickly and single out one or two people to keep an eye on. I watch and I wait, anticipating what is going to happen and often realising where I need to be to get the shot of that precise moment.

It may mean becoming part of the action. For example, if I spot a scene developing and moving towards me as I walk along, I will sometimes place myself in the way, shepherding my characters to where I need them to be for the shot. Other times I scotch along to wherever I feel is going to give me the best view point. Most of the time people don't even notice me. I'm just someone on the street passing in the opposite direction. The busier the area, the easier it is to look like just another incompetent tourist fiddling with his camera.

Some street photographers will find a spot and work it. Perhaps there's an amusing poster or sign as a backdrop that is just waiting for the right person to come along. I've spoken to photographers who will happily bide their time for an hour or two by one of these, just waiting for the perfect moment. Not me. Five minutes and I'm done - if the right person hasn't come along by then I'm off, wondering about all the shots I may have missed by standing there for five minutes already.

Cartier-Bresson was once asked how he managed to get so many amazing photos. Without speaking, he suddenly launched into an elaborate dance, working the room, twisting, ducking, reaching up high.... before stopping and smiling. That was his answer. I would never describe my practice as a dance but I do flit in and out of crowds and pass along busy streets - often with complete sensory overload of all the amazing moments that are happening before me. And then something will grab me and in an instant I have shot off a frame or two. And then I’m already looking for whatever may be coming next. You never know what is around the next corner.

The point is that it is all about instinct. Our interests and experiences shape these. Our personalities determine whether we are happy to sit and wait for the perfect sunset at the risk of clouds obscuring what had promised to be a million dollar sky. Or whether we park ourselves on a bench opposite an amusing poster waiting for the right person in contrasting colours who may or may not appear. Or whether we are happy to dart about, watching and anticipating shapes and patterns in the crowd which is ever changing ahead of us - not overly concerned with perfect camera settings but focused on capturing the moment.

Of course, we need sufficient knowledge of our camera and any extra kit we use (this applies to all forms of photography) but it's our instinct that sets us apart from everyone else - never more so than in street photography. Someone described instinct as being like the stomach - it knows when it needs satisfying. As street photographers we should listen to our stomachs, going with what we feel even if technically it may not seem the right thing to do. It's only by following our instincts and listening to that growling stomach that we will take the photographs which express us as creative individuals. Something which is unique. A photograph that only we could have taken - expressing the you-ness of you.

Always Rattling Something...

"They're not comfy or cosy. You're always rattling something."

This is how my photographs were described to me recently. I’m still not quite sure how to take it but at least it means I’m developing something of a recognisable photographic style. Every photographer, indeed every artist, seeks to develop their own style over time, whilst also acknowledging the debt we each owe to those who inspire, and have inspired, us.

As a sixteen year old with a trumpet in my hand I was keen to hone my own sound and thought the best way was to try to avoid any influences. So turning my back on the Miles Davises, Freddie Hubbards, and Lee Morgans, I tried to reinvent jazz as we know it. That's why you never heard of me.

I suppose that when I think about my musical taste (if taste is the right word - maybe voracious appetite would be a better description) I realise that it is more quirky than mainstream and this probably represents my world view. It would seem that my street photography is also a reflection of that. My personality/interests/quirks are showing through. And I suppose that's a good thing even if it's not for everyone's taste. At least it means my own style is developing. Whether a style ever fully develops and we, as artists, reach an end point is debatable - and probably for another day.

I know some people are shocked by what I do and feel that I am invading privacies; quietly disapproving of candid street photography. Others look but can't imagine getting so close or being so brazen. But maybe this is just me out there rattling something. I certainly don't do it to cause offence. I just like to capture the mundane and shine a spotlight on it, the way I see it.

And with this blog, I now get to write about it.

This week it somehow found itself in the top 75 street photography blogs in the world. For that, I am very grateful and have a nice new rosette to show for it emblazoned on the site, like a calf length tattoo - but one which I won't be hiding in my sock at interviews. A huge thank you for putting me there. If you'd like to see the list including the other 74 then you can find it here:

http://blog.feedspot.com/street_photography_blogs/

Please do click through and take a look at some of the amazing thoughts and images my street photographer colleagues have posted.

Staying in shape.

Writer’s block isn’t something which affects photographers. At least not in the literal sense. However, the lack of creative inspiration must surely strike at every creative soul at some point. I don’t have a solution except to push through it.

Last week, as I mentioned, I visited Oxford with a fellow snapshot junkie. It had been some weeks since I had picked up the camera for anything more than just the chance of a shot on a shopping trip. This was to be a dedicated photo-walk in a place that we knew a fairly well. And where no one was going to recognise us.

The camaraderie was great. The photography, at least on my part, not so good. I just couldn’t get my eye in. I lopped off limbs, heads and halves of bodies. I’m sure part of it was the fact that I hadn’t been picking up my camera as often - muscle memory let me down. It just didn’t come easy. But it wasn’t just the mechanics. My eye was not seeing things it would normally see. It all just went to show that  I really do need to keep shooting to stay “in shape."

I’m quite used to the fact that looking through images on the back of the camera over a pint is usually disappointing. Most of what I shoot (and most street photographers will say the same) is disposable and only fit for the delete button trash can. This time there were even fewer gems. Very disheartening.

And it was made worse by the fact that the shooting conditions and light were fabulous. The early evening sun was a beautiful summer gold that was further enhanced by the yellow stone of the old city buildings. It should have all been so good.

There was nothing to do but push through and keep shooting. Since then, I've gone back over the shots and one or two are okay. I’ve gone back to the masters - Leiter, Herzog, Webb, Gruyaert, Haas for their masterful use of colour. And I’ve gone out again - a short few hours in London. It seems to have worked - although the photos from this particular trip are awaiting the first cut and processing - and my eye is seeing and framing things the way it should.

Lesson learned. 

Looking Back at the Footsteps of Progress

The advantages and disadvantages of any age are always fiercely debated. Being a bit of a techie guy, I do like my gadgets and keeping up with whichever direction my interests are heading. Safe to say,  I am probably something of an early adopter.

I certainly don’t sit down and bemoan the passing of the days of film. I did shoot film but only until I realised that my Praktica camera was going to cost me way too much if I was to become as engrossed with it as I generally do with my interests. As a student, it was not an option and I stepped away from the camera - frittering my hard earned foldables on a healthy music habit instead. 

However, I also don’t think the future is golden and am also something of a nostalgist (bear with me). There’s a part of me that is keen to shoot film again but I never did the whole darkroom thing and that seems a step too far (for now at least).

Digital does at least allow easy, catalogued access to just about every photo I have ever shot - yes, including scanned ones that I shot with my Kodak Instamatic when I was six. Whilst finding those is kind of endearing, if not enlightening, some of the more recent digital outings when I finally picked up a camera again three or four years ago should really have just been deleted and are only taking up virtual space.

What does surprise me is that some of the shots that I never even gave a thought to - missed the moment, chose the wrong settings, completely mis-focused - suddenly have an appeal now that my eye knows more. Didn’t Saul Letter shoot shots like that - out of focus through a window? Isn’t the background actually more interesting than the foreground? Wouldn’t that work in black and white? I will revisit them some day.

It takes time to develop a style and I can’t suppose for a moment that I am there yet. However, I can look back and see the footsteps through the woods on the way to where I am today. Some make me want to wince. Others surprise me. I am glad I kept them all.

Tomorrow I plan to visit Oxford with a friend and his camera. I will shoot street and he will find amazing patterns and abstract geometry in the every day. Both of us seeking out different little nuggets of truth and beauty from our surroundings.

This prompted me to look back at an earlier visit to Oxford. As I suspected, most shots don’t bear looking at. But I was surprised to find one or two black and whites that suddenly pulled me back three years to when I first began to realise that candid street photography was "a thing” - actually a genre in its own right. Something I wanted to be part of.

These photos, which at the time I believe I would probably have shared on Blipfoto, excited me. And today, I can detect that same thrill when I look at them. I had dismissed them as early attempts. I see I shot them at F8 and can still hear one of my friends saying "F8 and Be There.” However, there is a satisfying depth of field and even a certain flukey compositional something going on. Whatever - it was enough to pull me back for another go on the streets … and I keep coming back.

I wonder what tomorrow’s Oxford will bring?

War and Street - what can Robert Capa teach us?

Flicking through my Twitter feed, surrounded by toast, marmalade and coffee, and very much in a Sunday vibe, I came across a Magnum post inviting me to enjoy some of their archive. This is all part of the esteemed photo agency’s seventieth anniversary shindigs. It doesn’t take long to lose yourself in the various photo-articles: Dennis Stock’s beautiful jazz images; the genius that was Sergio Larrain and his published work from Valparaiso; anything of Elliott Erwitt’s.

The photographer's eye writes the story. 
Guildford July 2017

The article that particularly resonated this morning was about Robert Capa and his famous images from the first wave of the D-Day landings on Omaha Beach in June 1944. You can read it here: www.magnumphotos.com/newsroom/conflict/robert-capa-d-day-omaha-beach/

The story is well known. Hero photographer wades ashore with the US marines, scared out of his wits and shooting a series of iconic images with shaky hands as the bullets from German machine-gun posts ripped the bodies and water around him. After some time on the sand helping to save lives and pull men from the water to the waiting ships, he too joins them and heads back to England. Once there, his precious prints are largely destroyed by the impatience and excitement of a young technician charged with developing the first pictures from the invasion for a story-hungry press. One can only imagine how he met have felt, risking everything to only see a precious few end up in print.

Capa famously said that if your photos aren’t good enough, you’re not close enough. No can argue that he didn’t get close. It was a landmine in Vietnam that took his life some ten years on from D-Day. The Magnum website article said: "Capa’s photography is all about being there, close. His art lay in risking where to be and when, in how he built and conducted the relationships that enabled him to be there, and in how he shaped and presented the narrative of events he witnessed.”

Now, I can’t claim to take anything like the risks that Robert Capa (or indeed any war correspondent or photographer) routinely took. But there is a good deal of the street photographer in that quote. 

Working with a focal length of about 35mm, your camera has to get close. As Bruce Golden said: "If you can smell the street by looking at the photo, it's a street photograph.” You have to be close to smell it. And that is risky. Okay, you’re unlikely to take a bullet and less likely to step on a landmine - but you may well upset one or two as you go about your business. I’m sure we can all think of times when we  have been confronted, challenged, rumbled and maybe even abused. I know I can. Equally, I can think of the shots that were perfect in my head but I put the camera away at the last moment because, well, I bottled it.

Yet, I keep going back. There is something in that risk. In that proximity. Something which sees me calculating where to be and when, making relationships in my mind’s eye. Something in the story that pulls me back, attempting to "shape and present the narrative of events."

You can find the Classic Magnum page here:www.magnumphotos.com/theme/classic-magnum/

A Link from the Past

The more photographs I take, the more I am convinced that photographers learn from those greats who have gone before; standing on the shoulders of giants to capture that awesome view or decisive moment - and an occasional indecisive one too. Of course, being in the right place helps. 

Last weekend I had the truly great pleasure of being invited to spend the evening on one of the corporate boxes above the finish line at Goodwood races. Even better, this included a car to and from the racecourse; champagne to drown our losses and toast our victories [few]; our own chef; and the perfect reason to leave work about as early as was both feasible and polite as the boss on a Friday night.

Weather wise, it could hardly have been better. The Sussex downs were bathed in a golden light for several hours and stretched for as far as the eye could see and further than my 35mm lens wanted to go.

Between courses there was the opportunity to escape the air-conditioned life of the box and mingle with everyone else by the track. This is where the bookies with their fixed faces line up to relieve you of your notes and replace them with dreams while their expression switches to the next punter in line. This is where overdressed men swelter in the late sun and under-dressed women, fuelled by plastic pints of warm beer or swinging half empty bottles of Moët, stumble precariously on skyscraper heels. It's an oasis for a thirsty street photographer.

Each race brought a new flutter and a five minute amble among these gradually less stable fellow racegoers as their expressions became more jovial [or less so] as their own personal cocktail of winnings, losses and alcohol slashed back and forth.

Most of my shots were taken up close (obeying Robert Capa’s maxim that if your photos aren’t good enough, you aren’t close enough) but I took picture above as it seemed to capture the evening en masse. I particularly liked it because it reminded me of Winston Link's drive in movie shot and it was this classic image that I had in mind when I took it.

https://uk.pinterest.com/pin/97601516906397814/

We truly do learn by looking at the masters and the more we invest in looking at the great photographs the more our own work will grow, I'm convinced of this.

Inertia

Sometimes waiting is better than the thing you’re waiting for. Sometimes waiting delivers exactly what you need - this is certainly true in street photography when you have a perfect setting and you simply have to wait for the right scene to play out before your eyes. You don’t always know what it will be - but you know when you see it.

The Wait. Soho, London. May 2017.

But when you find yourself waiting because you are putting something off until you feel you have everything in place (and just right) can often mean you’re stuck. And that’s where I’ve been with my blog for some months.

Sure - I’ve made notes and I’ve had loads of ideas. But I’ve been stuck. 

It’s not that I haven’t been taking photos. I have. Loads. In fact I have the best part of 1,500 shots to assimilate from days in London, Budapest and Goodwood races - some of which I’m really pleased with. My problem is that I committed to this website and I’ve let it down. I like writing. I really do. But maybe I should stop striving for perfection and accept that sometimes 7/10 will do. Or even 6...

So here’s my first blog for sometime, more about the problems of blogging than about street photography, but surely there is a message for all of us. And that is not to sit and wait for the right situation, the right gear, the right weather - just get out and do it. Take those shots. As Elliot Erwitt said: “Nothing happens when you sit at home. "

Mind you - he also said “The whole point of taking pictures is so that you don’t have to explain things with words.” 

'Til next time….

Photos United

This is not the place to get political and that certainly isn’t my intention. But politics is about how we live our lives, and it is inevitable that the changes of the past year (Brexit, Trump and who-knows-what-next) will impact in even the most unimportant areas of those lives. Like a photography website.

So while I’m busy not jumping on a soap-box and getting all political, I do want to share an observation which, I am quite sure, is not unique to me.

All in this together - humanity; London Underground, England. February 2017.

Somehow, we have very quickly found ourselves in a time that seems riven with division, seeking reasons to be apart. The powers that be are busy drawing up virtual drawbridges and building actual walls. And yet, through the magic of the internet, ordinary people can communicate at any time of day or night, distance no object. Language barriers are instantly dissolved by online translation. Even more than that, the immediacy of a photograph transcends language. Perhaps it is even a universal language photography.

I can view images taken this morning, from the other side of the world, from the deepest oceans, even from outer space and all in the comfort of my own home. I can communicate directly with the photographers (the artists) themselves. And the same with those who view my images.

Social media enables photographers to develop a regular following. These followers provide criticism and support; feedback which enables photographers to develop and hone their skills, should they choose to listen. While an open shop window or never=closing museum such as this could be overwhelming it can also support, affirm and challenge in the best possible ways.

As countries and politicians seem to be shoring up defences and building walls - both virtual and real - it is heartwarming to receive comments of appreciation and support for images taken in London, Surrey, or wherever ... and then viewed on screens in far flung places. 

Comments from the most exotic of places from people with the most exotic of names. Sometimes I can't tell whether the name is male or female. Or even whether it's a first name or surname. Sometimes I can't even tell the language of the name or begin to make sense of the character's on the screen. Yet, I know I’m sharing a common language with a fellow photographer which is helping to further understanding - not just of their photographs and hone but of the similarities and differences we share across this divided globe.

The power of a photograph is in its immediacy - no thousand words to read. It’s heartening that these photographs are now going further by bringing people together for whom photography is the only common language. That's got to be a good thing. The more bridges the better.

Shoot first. Ask Questions Later. or Better to seek forgiveness than ask permission.

I think the question that I am asked most often is whether I ask permission to photograph people on the street. And if not, how do I get away with it - by which I assume there is surprise that I haven’t been thumped or beaten around the head by my rolled up street map. Or worse.

I don't ask. Fundamentally, I guess the difference is that while the people I shoot would like the world to see them as they would want the world to see them ... I don't. I want the world to see them as they really are. Or as they sometimes are - when they are off guard. This isn't out of some inherent cruelty. It's more a question of truth. After all, isn't that what Art concerns itself with?

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The other element in this is that I am not a typical portrait photographer. I wouldn’t know where to begin with posing someone or giving direction. So I have to take what I see. 

Finally, I would much prefer to shoot someone caught in what Cartier-Bresson called "the decisive moment." Not some clever, long held pose. 

So, I rarely ask permission. There have been rare exceptions. A few months ago, I happened across a Harley-Davidson biker run for charity with all riders dressed as Santa Claus and collections made for local primary schools - something of an interesting shift away from cultural expectations and therefore rich with opportunity. I prowled among the riders with my camera at my hip, finger on the back-button, ready to shoot. And I shot a few. Then I made eye contact; a fatal error. Eye contact with a tall, tattooed, bearded and leather clad ring-leader in his worn waistcoat adorned with his name. Basher.

The omens weren’t good.

So I asked. And he smiled. Posed. And I clicked. It should have been mean, moody and confrontational. Had I had the sense to direct him, I could maybe have got something halfway to what I wanted. And what I wanted was definitely Basher going about his business as, well, a basher. Instead I got the smiling, bearded, Santa imitator - no amount of gritty post-processing would deliver the shot I wanted; the shot I could have got if I’d kept my mouth shut and my eyes down.

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Most recently, on a street photography jaunt around London, I noticed two young office workers enjoying early refreshment along the south bank of the River Thames. Nothing unusual about that except that it was extremely cold (being January), they were already gulping down Laurent Perrier champagne, and had clearly been out all night since finishing work the day before. “Make us Facebook famous,” they laughed; I had already shot them from the hip, capturing the wide open champagned arms and flailing cigarette. Would they have chosen beer stained shirts, sleepless eyes and hangover hair for their portrait shoot? I doubt it. Yet somehow, the shot was closer to the truth - for that day at least.

Surely that is the essence of street photography. 

Step Away from that Camera 3: Imitate. Innovate. Invent.

In the first of this series of three blogs about how to take better photographs by stepping back from your camera, I wrote about the importance of looking at photos and learning from them. To some extent, I believe you do learn a lot just by looking at other's images, without even taking the time to really study them. I think you do intuitively develop a sense of what works.

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Inspired by the paintings of Edward Hopper. 

In my day job as a Headteacher, and previously as a teacher, of junior schoolchildren, I encourage children to develop their writing by reading books they enjoy. 

The children will take a favourite story - The Three Little Pigs say - and then write their own version. Simply retell the story.

Then they focus on one element of the story to change - what if they weren’t pigs but clowns? what if it was set in the city or in space?

Finally, they get to write a new story with the framework of the original idea - a group being victimised and evicted by a bully.

Applied to photography, look at a picture you really feel inspired by, one that you wish you’d taken. Study it.

What makes it work? Composition. Lighting. Setting. Story.

Then try and copy these themes in a shot of your own.

Change something.

And finally consider the theme, the story. Take your own shot inspired by the original.