When Things Go Wrong

<p>Regarding the issue taking photos from vehicles, that's something I did quite a bit during the 1970s and early 1980s, and it whetted my appetite for the whole genre of candid public photography, even though my approach is *usually* different now. I emphasize *usually* because I still occasionally snap photos from buses or other vehicles, often out of boredom and hoping that a random glimpse may somehow manifest as something meaningful.</p>

<p>My personal favorite photo from that era, taken from a vehicle, was <a href="/photo/7339155">this one</a>, taken around 1981 in Fort Worth. I remember it because I'd just gotten out of the Navy, was in college studying journalism, and commuting to a night job at a dialysis clinic in Fort Worth near John Peter Smith hospital. The woman's home was around the Main Street and Rosedale area. I had a Ricoh SLR with 135mm lens on the front seat, and snapped that photo while waiting at a traffic light. Nobody noticed. I still like the photo.</p>

<p>A year or so earlier, in San Diego, around 1980 or so, I took <a href="/photo/7339158">this photo of a news rack</a> while I was sitting in a friend's van. It stirred up a bit of drama. Quoting from my anecdote:</p>

<blockquote>

<p>"The next day my friend called to tell me the convenience store owner was angry and demanding to know why I'd been taking photos outside his store. Apparently he'd immigrated from a former Soviet bloc country and was still very paranoid about surveillance. He demanded my photos and negatives. I told my friend I wouldn't give up my negatives but I'd be happy to provide a contact sheet of the roll, and larger prints if the fellow wanted a better view of anything. None of the photos were of the man's store. I never heard back from him so I suppose he was satisfied with my explanation."</p>

</blockquote>

<p>The photo is nothing special. I keep it around as a reminder of how capricious life can be, and that our smallest miscalculations may have significant repercussions while our gravest errors may go without consequence.</p>

<p>Every mistake we survive is a gift. Every day is a new chance to make another mistake, or maybe do something worthwhile for one person. Or to just take a nap and wait for another day.</p>

<p>One of the great photos taken of a shy subject. This is Joseph Goebbels, taken by (Jewish) TIME-LIFE photographer Alfred Eisenstadt. If looks could kill.<br>

http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.photographersgallery.com/i/full/dr_joseph_goebbels.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.photographersgallery.com/photo.asp?id%3D3577&h=523&w=350&sz=49&tbnid=mPoPVCnNbEfTJM:&tbnh=90&tbnw=60&zoom=1&usg=__wBcVYG3yJbvQhGMAhvS0jTl3cqY=&docid=Z193DaKzPIqPaM&sa=X&ei=J7E1UrrmJcz_4AOiiYGQDg&ved=0CEIQ9QEwAg&dur=183</p>

<p> </p>

>>> Well, Brad, with street sauce there is definitely the possibility of being misunderstood.

 

I still don't understand. Again, since you must have examined a copy, what is it you are taking issue with? Being misunderstood

by who?

 

It's not about telling people how/what they should shoot - or from where. There are no "rules." You asked for a post-mortem of the

encounter and that is what I/others gave you, relating personal experiences along the way and what works for us. Some

people have a strong sense of how they conduct themselves on the street. For me, one of the elements is taking responsibility

for a shot if a subject should take issue - it's part of the "bargain" shooting on the street. If I'm not prepared to engage

in a conversation if issue is taken after the shot, the shutter doesn't get released. That's not being imposed upon you, but rather

is being offered for consideration to avoid bad encounters in the future.

 

As several people mentioned above, in the end photos need to work. As far as getting there it's: My camera, my pixels/emulsion,

I'll do what works for me. Your camera, your pixels/emulsion, you do what works for you. If what you do isn't working, or you get into

bad situations and then ask for advice, there are people who will speak up to suss it out.

<p>Shooting from cars is sometimes unavoidable for me as the subject is often a quickly moving bear or moose that will vacate the scene before I can park and get out. However, this one was shot from the car because it was raining and I didn't want to get my big rig (D2x and 28-70mm) wet. I don't like it from a technical standpoint, but I have always been intrigued by the annoyed look on the young man's face. My intention was never to upset him but by taking his picture I clearly did. </p><div></div>

<p>A crop.</p><div></div>

<p>My son in Alaska was filming behind the camera and agrees that discretion is the better part of valor lots of times, Lannie.</p><div></div>

<p>Gerry -- Wow. Just...wow.</p>

<p>I do not mean to offend but I really don't see the point in this. In the first place the photograph doesn't tell a compelling story. All you have is a group of folks, one of whom is in uniform. No pathos. No story. Not well exposed. </p>

<p>Why did you not get out of the car and ask to take their picture? If you were polite and explained that you honored her service and would like to take a family picture, they might have said yes and the resulting pictures would have been vastly better. You could even offer to give them a couple of shots.</p>

<p>My personal inclination is to not make people uncomfortable when I can help it. Pulling up in a car and sticking a camera out of the window when there is no obvious event happening is bound to do just that. I usually admire your pictures but I wonder if in this case perhaps your imagination got in the way a bit. </p>

<p> </p>

<p>Gerry, I ***LOVE*** that <em>Bear and Photographers</em> photo! One of the best images I've seen all year! Thanks so much for sharing!!!</p>

<blockquote>

<p>They started hamming it up for me and we all had fun.</p>

</blockquote>

<p> <br>

That's a great feeling, and you probably enjoyed an excellent photographic opportunity. It's really hard to get to that place when the initial approach is to sneak shots of people.<br>

<br>

Maybe there's a vicious circle in play here. People who are uncomfortable engaging others take shots in a stealthy manner. When, on occasion, they are discovered, some subjects react negatively. The shooter becomes convinced that the way to prevent confrontations is even more stealth, whereas it was stealth in the first place that led to the confrontations.</p>

<blockquote>

<p>The big mistake was to continue taking the shots--that showed an aggressiveness. --Kent Staubus</p>

 

</blockquote>

<p>That's conceivble, Kent, but I certainly wasn't feeling aggressive toward the people. I think that I was sort of infatuated with my "new" <em>old</em> camera that I got on eBay--the D3s. I have never had a camera that does that well at low light, although I blew that (and earlier efforts that night) by shooting at ISO 12,800 and f/5.6. After those shots, I went back to f/2.8, which is where I thought I was.</p>

 

<blockquote>

<p>People who are uncomfortable engaging others take shots in a stealthy manner. When, on occasion, they are discovered, some subjects react negatively. The shooter becomes convinced that the way to prevent confrontations is even more stealth, whereas it was stealth in the first place that led to the confrontations. --Dan South</p>

</blockquote>

<p><br />That might well be, Dan, although I am generally an upfront kind of person who is not operating in stealth mode. It was a grab shot without a great deal of thought. I will know to be more careful next time.</p>

 

<blockquote>

<p>Psychology and ethics aside, is there something you see in any of the shots that inspires you to think differently about street photos and how you might go about making street photos that could be of more value to you than what you got this time? Not necessarily the how of your approach on the street but about what the results of your shooting might look like. What you might want to achieve rather than how you go about getting it. Not just the idea of what you want to achieve, but also what it might start to look like. These questions can't necessarily be answered here, and may never be fully answerable, but they may be worth considering as you venture out into the street more and more. Sometimes psychology can muck it all up and, as Avedon advises, it can be the surface that matters! --Fred G.</p>

</blockquote>

<p>Well, Fred, I think that I will see if I can get some shots in public places--after hanging around and panning around for awhile so as to desensitize people to the presence of the camera. I would like to get people at east and looking natural, the opposite of what I got in this series. The disaster potential is always there, but it clear that in this case shooting at night from a car was a mistake. Leaving was possibly also a mistake, but at the time it seemed better, given the change of light and my big wave after the fact. Perhaps it was not the best thing to do. </p>

<p>As far as psychologizing, I do want to emphasize that I would not want to infer too much about the people I was shooting by analyzing the crops. There are a lot of military families around here, and sometimes it seems that everybody is a hunter in the South--or else everyone has a loved one in the military, or both. I am not assuming that they were ultraconservative, reactive, or anything else. The dad did what I might easily have done. In any case, the psychologizing is<em> ex post facto</em> and will not affect the shot just made--though it might affect the next shot.</p>

<p>It was still a good night in spite of that fiasco--and it was a fiasco, an indefensible failed effort. I did better that night when I went back to shooting the buildings I had just shot. I was in no particular mood to shoot anymore people that night, though. </p>

 

<blockquote>

<p>For me, one of the elements is taking responsibility for a shot if a subject should take issue - it's part of the "bargain" shooting on the street. If I'm not prepared to engage in a conversation if issue is taken after the shot, the shutter doesn't get released. --Brad -</p>

 

</blockquote>

<p>That's probably a good rule, Brad. I really had not thought this through, to say the least. This sort of thing is relatively new to me. Under the circumstances, it seemed better to wave highly and broadly and drive away when the light changed. Perhaps it wasn't.</p>

 

<blockquote>

<p>Being misunderstood by who? --Brad -</p>

 

</blockquote>

<p>I just meant "the subject," whoever it is, Brad. Your shots are very impressive. </p>

 

<blockquote>

<p>I do not mean to offend but I really don't see the point in this. In the first place the photograph doesn't tell a compelling story. All you have is a group of folks, one of whom is in uniform. No pathos. No story. Not well exposed. --Rick M.</p>

 

</blockquote>

<p>You are absolutely right, Rick. I hope that the thread might have made the poor shooting worthwhile for some. As for your other points, I have already tried to explain them several times in the preceding, and I will try to avoid repeating myself yet again. The thread has been good in terms of giving persons the opportunity to express themselves, but I have been shooting almost evening last evening and today (32 GB of data on the first card, and well into the second 32-GB card), and I just don't have the time or energy to go through it all yet again. I won't try to defend the eleven-shot sequence beyond what I have already said. I made a number of errors of every kind. Live and learn--and hopefully learn enough to live to shoot some more.</p>

 

 

<blockquote>

<p>Regarding the issue of taking photos from vehicles, that's something I did quite a bit during the 1970s and early 1980s, and it whetted my appetite for the whole genre of candid public photography, even though my approach is *usually* different now. I emphasize *usually* because I still occasionally snap photos from buses or other vehicles, often out of boredom and hoping that a random glimpse may somehow manifest as something meaningful.<br>

My personal favorite photo from that era, taken from a vehicle, was <a href="/photo/7339155" rel="nofollow">this one</a>, taken around 1981 in Fort Worth. I remember it because I'd just gotten out of the Navy, was in college studying journalism, and commuting to a night job at a dialysis clinic in Fort Worth near John Peter Smith hospital. The woman's home was around the Main Street and Rosedale area. I had a Ricoh SLR with 135mm lens on the front seat, and snapped that photo while waiting at a traffic light. Nobody noticed. I still like the photo.<br>

A year or so earlier, in San Diego, around 1980 or so, I took <a href="/photo/7339158" rel="nofollow">this photo of a news rack</a> while I was sitting in a friend's van. It stirred up a bit of drama. Quoting from my anecdote:<br>

"The next day my friend called to tell me the convenience store owner was angry and demanding to know why I'd been taking photos outside his store. Apparently he'd immigrated from a former Soviet bloc country and was still very paranoid about surveillance. He demanded my photos and negatives. I told my friend I wouldn't give up my negatives but I'd be happy to provide a contact sheet of the roll, and larger prints if the fellow wanted a better view of anything. None of the photos were of the man's store. I never heard back from him so I suppose he was satisfied with my explanation."<br>

The photo is nothing special. I keep it around as a reminder of how capricious life can be, and that our smallest miscalculations may have significant repercussions while our gravest errors may go without consequence.<br>

Every mistake we survive is a gift. Every day is a new chance to make another mistake, or maybe do something worthwhile for one person. Or to just take a nap and wait for another day. <br>

--Lex Jenkins</p>

 

</blockquote>

<p>Wow, Lex. That is all so good. You make me glad that I started the thread, although I am still not happy I took the particular shots under the same circumstances You also mentioned elsewhere that it might help to remind people at times that they are under surveillance from cameras all the time. That might work in some case. How to deal with the drunk and the crazy is something for which I have no simple set of contingency plans--even though I had to deal with what appeared to be precisely that almost three years ago. (Even building shots can blow up.)</p>

<p>I am personally hoping that the ubiquitous iPhones (and other camera phones) might desensitize some people to being photographed in public--although I realize that most are probably going to be wary of some guy with a big camera shooting from a car at night, and justifiably and understandably so.</p>

<p>I'm just glad that, if it was going to go bad, it did not go worse.</p>

 

<blockquote>

<p>If he carried a tire iron or a baseball bat, Lannie, it would have been even more fascinating. Alternative universe options abound. ( " How are you today?" thought bubble response- " Wonder what he meant by<strong><em> that</em></strong>? ") --Gerry Siegel</p>

</blockquote>

 

<blockquote>

<p>My son in Alaska was filming behind the camera and agrees that discretion is the better part of valor lots of times, Lannie. --Gerry Siegel</p>

 

</blockquote>

<p>As for your second part (and the photo above), what a great "bear panic" shot, Gerry!. As for your first comment directly above, there is always a worst-case possible scenario that one always wants to avoid. I guess that I got lucky this time by running into what appears to be a very nice family.</p>

<p>If I neglected anyone else, I am sorry, but I am starved and need to get out to get something to eat. I do appreciate the shots you posted as well as the comments. Both positive and negative comments have been helpful--the negative ones will probably be the ones I remember, and the ones that might save my life in the future.</p>

<p>Thanks to everyone for the great thread! I learned a lot and enjoyed reading it all.</p>

<p>--Lannie</p>

<p> </p>

 

<p>One last one for tonight by Rick M.:</p>

 

<blockquote>

<p>I wonder if in this case perhaps your imagination got in the way a bit.</p>

</blockquote>

<p>You're probably right, Rick. In fact, you might have been on target with every single point you made above.</p>

<p>Again, I am sorry if I neglected anyone. It was not intentional.</p>

<p>--Lannie</p>

<p>Most people are reasonably social, and once you tallk to them a little they often will respond positively. The trick seems to be to engage them in conversation before pulling a camera out. In the below shot, I was wandering about one night and went into a biker bar. I saw a woman sitting on a very attractive motorcycle and asked if I could take a shot of the bike. (This was inside the bar, LOL!) She laughed and said, "Wouldn't you rather have a great shot of my butt?" I agreed that might be even better. She leaned forward a bit and I took the shot with my little Leica and 28mm lens. I probably should have been using ISO 400 film rather than ISO 100, but what the hell. It was a great experience. Things might have been different if I went in there and tried to "covertly" use a D4 and 24-70mm. As it turned out, the pretty girl actually wanted to show off her bike (ahem!) for me, a guy with a goofy old camera.</p>

<p>Kent in SD</p><div></div>

<blockquote>

<p>"I do not mean to offend but I really don't see the point in this. In the first place the photograph doesn't tell a compelling story. All you have is a group of folks, one of whom is in uniform. No pathos. No story. Not well exposed. --Rick M."</p>

</blockquote>

<blockquote>

<p>"You are absolutely right, Rick."</p>

</blockquote>

<p>I suppose this is where we get into that nebulous territory of personal aesthetics. I think the first photo of the gal in uniform with her hands raised for an embrace is lovely. Despite the blur, noise and indifferent framing, that gesture would have enticed me to instinctively raise a camera and snap the shutter.</p>

<p>The only thing I'd have done differently would be to approach the fellow when he began walking toward me and say something like I've said before <a href="/photo/10910213">when folks noticed me photographing them in public</a>: "It was such a lovely moment I couldn't resist." I'd show folks the photo and ask if they'd like me to email a copy to them. <em>(If I would change anything, I would be more consistent about this - offering to share copies of photos with people, and not taking so long to do it.)</em></p>

<p>I do so because I see these marvelous gestures, these lovely moments that meld personal intimacy in a public space, and I want to preserve that moment to show that the world really can occasionally be a wonderful place at odd moments. It's better expressed in <a href="

scene</a> in the movie American Beauty, and the quote "Do you want to see the most beautiful thing I ever filmed"? And it's just a video of a white plastic bag dancing in the breeze amidst dead leaves. And it is beautiful.</p>

<p>That way, if anyone asks or challenges me, I can answer honestly and positively because my motivation isn't emotionless idle curiosity, or, worse, a desire to humiliate people (which is one reason I'm uncomfortable with "people of Walmart" type exploitation, which seeks only schadenfreude and snide self-superiority over others who don't meet our standards for physical appearance).</p>

<p>But personal motivation, whatever beneficence we may attribute to our actions as candid photographers, isn't some sort of talisman that will always protect us and magically convey our intentions to people we photograph so that they will understand and accept our intentions. I usually feel like a gambler on a winning streak, yet still aware of the fact that every roll of the dice, every spin of the wheel, is a whole new game and nothing I've done before will count toward the outcome of this roll or spin.</p>

<p>Also, great photo and anecdote, Kent. The motion blur of her body against the hard, static machine creates a fascinating dynamic. It's another example of a photo that appeals to me more because of the characteristics that some might describe as flaws.</p>

<blockquote>

<p>But personal motivation, whatever beneficence we may attribute to our actions as candid photographers, isn't some sort of talisman that will always protect us and magically convey our intentions to people we photograph so that they will understand and accept our intentions. I usually feel like a gambler on a winning streak, yet still aware of the fact that every roll of the dice, every spin of the wheel, is a whole new game and nothing I've done before will count toward the outcome of this roll or spin. --Lex Jenkins</p>

</blockquote>

<p>Lex, I think that part of the problem is being perceived as the outsider. Outsiders may in turn be viewed as interlopers, even if they are not really viewed as a threat. Even if outsiders are unobtrusive, there is the possibility that they will not be tolerated. Throw in a family situation and the prospect that, for all anyone knows, someone really<em> might</em> be up to no good--and the potential for an explosive confrontation escalates.</p>

<p>I knew that my own motives were good, but how could I be sure that my explanation would have been accepted? That is the reason that, when the light turned green, I set down the camera on the car seat beside me, waved broadly from the driver's side (the side opposite the people), and drove slowly off, turning right and driving right by them (and looking straight ahead) so that they would have ample chance to see me and see that I was not fleeing in panic--just with a good sense, I believe, that they might conclude that I was indeed harmless, whatever their first impression might have been (the "father's" first impressions, in this case).</p>

<p>When one has made a bad decision (in this case, to shoot from a car at night in this particular situation), the last thing that one wants to do is to make another bad decision. Hanging around to "discuss" the decision might sound optimal, until one considers all of the things that I did not know. <strong><em>I pursued the MINIMAX solution</em></strong>, having made the first mistake. I could not see through the viewfinder what I saw later. I chose what I saw as the safest course to defuse the situation: leave. Leave slowly and peacefully, but<strong><em> leave.</em></strong><br /> <br /> These remarks are directed at no one in particular, especially not to you, Kent or Lex or anyone who actually has had to deal with dicey situations.<strong><em><br /></em></strong></p>

<p><br />Other topics: Kent, bikers give "street shooting" a whole 'nother meaning. Kent Noble on this site managed to get inside bike culture and be accepted as a biker himself--and came away with photos that are quite incredible (not to say that I would have taken or posted them).</p>

<p>"The trick seems to be to engage them in conversation before pulling a camera out."</p>

<p>Yes, that would indeed be ideal, if the situation allowed it. The problem is that,<strong><em> not only are all situations slightyly different, but situations are in flux. Things go in unexpected directions--and this can happen fast.</em></strong> (Again, that response is not directed to anyone in particular.)</p>

<p><strong><em>I cannot imagine that there is one rule to cover all situations</em></strong> that might arise in nighttime street photography--except "Don't do it," and that is not good enough. Some of us are going to keep trying.</p>

<p>If you have further examples as to how things can go wrong, please share them. I cannot imagine all the possible bad scenarios. I just know that I have already been assaulted once for doing absolutely nothing wrong in shooting a building at night. That happened three years ago, and I had just driven from that same spot immediately before these shots were made. <strong><em>One cannot assume rationality on the part of the party with whom one might have a potential discussion</em>.</strong><br /> <br /> At the age of sixty-eight, I don't care to run certain risks anymore. I will keep shooting at night, but I will get out of Dodge in a hurry if the situation takes an unexpected turn.</p>

<p><em><strong>YMMV.</strong></em><br /> <br /> If anyone wants to contend further on this issue (that is, on the decision to leave rather than stick around to try to explain), I am going to refer you back to the bold-faced, italicized highlights (above and below) on this post. I have nothing new to say on that decision that I can think of at this moment that I haven't already said three or four times already, except this:<em><br /></em></p>

<p><strong><em>I felt a pretty strong obligation to get out of there before somebody got shot or arrested, including myself: look up "minimax" if you still do not understand.</em></strong><br /> <br /> <strong><em><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Minimax">MINIMAX.</a><br /></em></strong></p>

<p>--Lannie</p>

<p> </p>

<p>Example of how things can go right.</p>

<p>Early on in my shooting, I used to stalk people on the street. One sunny afternoon, I was stalking a guy in the Castro. We caught each other's eye and he approached me and asked if I was a photographer because he needed some good pics taken of himself. Charming fellow. We wound up taking pics on the street. Turned out he was a hustler and also looking for work but I wasn't buying, tempting though it was. He also turned out to be a bit of a ham and some bystanders gathered around and watched him pose for me on the street. It was a very fun experience for me and I got a nice set of pictures. He loved the shots and used them on various web sites. We saw each other again for a more planned shoot the next day and kept in touch for a while after that. It was the beginning of my own changing attitude to how I wanted to shoot and to understanding that the way I had been approaching photography up until then wasn't really working well for me. Kept me feeling as an outsider and the pics I had been getting were somewhat meaningless. I realized that I could photograph people by making connections and still capture the spontaneity and spark in those kinds of encounters. People can be quite "candid" even when they are not sneaked up on. A photographer is as likely to capture truth in a witting subject as in an unwitting one. Knowing a little more about him enabled me to perhaps capture some of his truth, rather than a projected truth that for some strange reason seems <em>sometimes</em> superficially to appear (but is not actually there) in unaware subjects. Sometimes! Good photography has as much to do with the photographer's ability and vision as with whether a subject knows you're there or not. As to the subject, a good or "truthful" photo can have as much to do with their ability to be genuine and vulnerable as with whether or not they know you're there.</p>

<p>Another mistake on upload. . . I'm late, but I have to slow down anyway, lest I make yet another mistake in trying to upload the photo.</p>

<blockquote>

<p>I realized that I could photograph people by making connections and still capture the spontaneity and spark in those kinds of encounters.</p>

</blockquote>

<p>That is indeed the key, Fred, as I see it now. At the time I took the shots in question, there was a different dynamic: her hands were in the air, and it was "now or never," as they say. I had just stopped at the red light. I really thought that I was getting a possible "Soldier Returns" reunion kind of shot. I was hoping for more, an entire sequence. I like those shots, since they are about happy moments. If they are about someone leaving, then they are poignant, if bittersweet--but bittersweet is better than no sweet at all, in my book. I wanted to capture only good emotions. It did not happen, unfortunately, due to my intrusion into the situation.</p>

<p>In any case, I went for it, based on what I thought I saw. I still hope that, over the long haul, the good consequences might outweigh the bad.</p>

<p>Upon examining the photos closely, why her hands were in the air is now open to question. At the moment I saw it, I thought that someone was about to get hugged. Now I am not so sure. Did someone<em> say</em> something that stopped the magic moment from unfolding? There is no way to know, one way or the other.</p>

<p>P.S.: Fred, given the bad connotations of the word "stalk" for so many people (as in "stalking prey"), are you sure that that is the word you want to use? I'm being only partly serious here, but I do know that I don't want anyone to think of me as a "stalker," as that term is commonly used--and I'm sure that you don't, either.</p>

<p>--Lannie</p><div></div>

<p>Looking up the street from perhaps thirty feet away, I could not even see it this well. After I started looking through the viewfinder, I could not see well at all.</p>

<p>One keeps shooting sometimes because one realizes only too late what is happening--and one is still hoping for one keeper.</p>

<p>I also did not know that the soldier with hands in air was a woman. That changes the dynamic, too--or can.</p>

<p>--Lannie</p>

<p>"WHEN THINGS GO WRONG" AWARD</p>

<p>I think that the award has to go to Gerry Siegel's son's photo at this time and date (not too far above):</p>

<p><a href="/photodb/user?user_id=251643">Gerry Siegel (Honolulu)</a> <a href="/member-status-icons"><img title="Subscriber" src="/v3graphics/member-status-icons/sub10plus.gif" alt="" /><img title="Frequent poster" src="/v3graphics/member-status-icons/1roll.gif" alt="" /></a>, Sep 15, 2013; 03:24 p.m.</p>

<p>Maybe you have a better shot of <em>a shoot gone awry</em>. I cannot imagine a better one. I would love to see the entire sequence on that shoot!</p>

<p>--Lannie</p>

<p>Lannie, "stalk" is definitely the word I wanted to use, for the situation I was describing. It's not a word I would necessarily use for all candid shooting, but it was definitely how I was approaching my own shooting on the street early on. And it's not necessarily what you were doing when you took these photos. But it is how your photos LOOK to me. They have a stalker quality, no matter what you were thinking or doing, though I do think your actions as you describe them have an element of "stalker" to them.</p>

<p>I don't care about connotations. I used the word "hustler" as well. To many, that has bad connotations. Who cares? There's nothing wrong with "stalker" photos <em>per se</em>, if that's your thing. And, again, not all candid or unwitting photos, by any means, are stalker-type photos. I think it's something that could even be explored, and probably has been, in a significant way. It's just that one might want to be aware they're stalking or come to some consciousness about it rather than doing it blindly or being in denial about it (which I don't think <em>you</em> are).</p>

<p>_____________________________________</p>

<p>PRACTICE. It's under-discussed but has been mentioned recently in a couple of different threads I've read.</p>

<p>If you want to stalk and can get significant photos by doing so, do it! If you don't want to stalk, then practice not stalking. That may mean for some period of time, taking only one shot of things you come across candidly. To get PRACTICE at not appearing to be a stalker and at not getting photos that look like stalker photos, maybe try honing the skill of anticipating moments and gestures that will be worth shooting, so you don't risk missing them. Practice taking one shot only of a situation to make it THE shot and then force yourself to move on. It doesn't always have to stay that way. But the discipline of doing this for a short period of time might teach you a lot about your own instincts and might also teach you to more fluidly and fluently glide through the world behind a camera, seamlessly and more unnoticed. Maybe you even want to be noticed. Maybe you want confrontational photos, ones that seem risky. That's the generic you, not necessarily you personally. If so, go for it . . . mindfully.</p>

<p>Of course, there are LOTS of other ways to practice as well.</p>

<blockquote>

<p>But it is how your photos LOOK to me. They have a stalker quality, no matter what you were thinking or doing, though I do think your actions as you describe them have an element of "stalker" to them.</p>

</blockquote>

<p>Perhaps so, Fred. I just pulled up to the light, saw what I thought I saw--and started shooting. It was all so fast that I did not even think of how I might look. It just looked like a potentially good shot, and so I started shooting. I knew that I had only a few seconds before the light changed back to green.</p>

<p>Looking back to that evening, several days ago now, I cannot believe that it did not occur to me that this was not a wise shot. Live and learn.</p>

<p>--Lannie</p>

<p>We had a bad cop in Salisbury. He was always chasing down African-Americans, including some of my students at Livingstone College. (He picked up a young woman and body-slammed her on the hood of her own vehicle for some misunderstandings over her failure to fasten her seat belt. She was a former student of mine. He also arrested a woman for photographing <em>him</em> during an arrest<em>,</em> even though she was on her front porch at the time. She was charged with interfering with an arresting officer, or something like that. It went to court. She won--after having to go through all that.)</p>

<p>Before he died of a heart attack a few months back, I often hoped that I could catch him in the act. I did not carry the camera for the purpose of catching him in the act, but, had I seen an abuse on his part, I have no doubt but that I would have shot him--with my camera.</p>

<p>Imagine: stalking a cop. Well, actually no, I didn't actually do it, but I thought about it.</p>

<p>Risk-taking. It's a sickness.</p>

<p>Maybe. I won't deny the rush that I get from shooting at night, even if it is <a href="/photodb/folder?folder_id=1032268"><strong><em>pictures of inanimate things</em></strong></a>.</p>

<p>It is also beautiful when it comes out right.</p>

<p>--Lannie</p>

<p><em>"It was all so fast that I did not even think of how I might look."</em></p>

<p>You described in some detail what you were thinking and feeling when you made your getaway. And judging by the number of shots you got off, you had plenty of time to feel something as you were shooting and noticing the folks coming toward you. Whether consciously or not, you took the subsequent shots, even as the people were approaching you. A lot can go on in a very few moments. We are as responsible for our knee-jerk and quick reactions as for our more planned and thought-out actions. Those knee-jerk instincts come from past decisions and experiences. They don't appear out of thin air. That's precisely the reason PRACTICE (more fine-tuned, honed, and learned-from experience) can help.</p>

<p>Again, I'm not putting you down for what you did. I'm just trying to get some clarity and authenticity around it. There's NO REASON you shouldn't have kept on shooting when they started to approach you, if that's what you wanted or needed to do. You may have taken some GREAT pictures by doing just that, taking photos of them coming at you. PRACTICE might help you take pictures you're more satisfied with. The only reason I say that is because practice has helped me. As I said before, had you come away with significant and moving, decent photos, this entire conversation might never have taken place. It might have all been worth it. Tension and disharmony and ill-at-ease-ness, even risk and danger, can be terrific muses . . . if you're willing. Plenty of photographers go there, go to places many others think are morally questionable and even adversarial. I try not to limit myself to anyone else's sensibility or concept of propriety. I want to (keep) discover(ing) my own.</p>