A Photo Not Taken

<p>Below are links to two shots where a public interest is served, but arguably at the expense of personal privacy and dignity:</p>

<p><a href="http://i.huffpost.com/gen/3108254/thumbs/o-RICH-LAM-RIOT-570.jpg?2">[LINK]</a></p>

<p><a href="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10207462598136933&set=a.1135632384816.2021441.1047526654&type=3&theater">[LINK]</a></p>

<p>I have trouble with making casual utilitarian trade-offs in such cases.</p>

<p>--Lannie</p>

<p>For myself, there's a lot of ego and consciousness in taking a picture. I would consider it an intrusion to do it during someone's funeral and feel intruded upon if someone else was shooting during a funeral for someone in my family. These mourning moments are times of love and spirit and cameras as well as uncovered mirrors to preen yourself distract from what's important. </p>

<p>Gad, I was just thinking. Does anyone take selfies with the dear departed?</p>

<p>Lannie, the second one simply shows the care humans take for others, often innocent victims of non caring organisations, in this case the methylmercury industrial waste release that caused the so-called Minimata diease. The potographer may well have respected the mother and child and they would both (child and mother) have to face continual public viewing of their condition. But the photographer had also a duty to show industrial inadequacy and irresponsibility which is the only way photography can really help to right a problem in the future. Making the picture is not easy, but some, unlike that of the first link that had no such repurcussions, just need to be made.</p>

<p>I was once walking down the street in downtown LA when I came across a man lying on on his side on the sidewalk. As I approached I noticed he suddenly unzipped his pants and began to urinate while still lying on his side. I noticed he was wearing a baseball cap with LA embroidered on the front. I had my camera with me and I could have taken a picture and for a split second I considered it (the baseball cap really drew me in) but I chose not to. Why? I can't say for sure. Hell, I can't explain why I take the pictures I do. However, if I was in New York in the days following 9-11 I would be out every day photographing as much of it as I could. This I'm sure of. I don't know what I would do with the results of my efforts but I'm often inclined to donate my work to worthy causes so I'm sure I would have put together a portfolio to give to an organization that would be grateful to have it. This thread reminds me of a story I read about from a year or two about a young woman who caused some controversy when she posted on social media a bunch of smiling selfies in and around a Nazi death camp that she was visiting.</p>

<p>Alan, funny you should ask. I was just talking with a good friend about what took place at my father's funeral. A young cousin of mine, in his twenties, attended and was a pall bearer. As we were getting the coffin out of the hearse, he took a selfie with the coffin, closed of course. His dad went over and made him put the camera away and, later on, many of my relatives spoke about it as a shameful act. I kind of found it amusing. My father had quite a sense of humor and could be inappropriate himself, at times. He, himself, was often putting people off who didn't quite get him, though most thought he was a great guy. My cousin is just a kid and it's the world he's grown up in. So I put it in that context and never held it against him. I actually found it somewhat innocent and endearing. I'm pretty sure my dad would have just laughed. He loved this kid dearly even though he didn't always think the kid made the best decisions for himself. As to taking selfies with the dead body itself, my guess is it's been done.</p>

<p>Marc, it's interesting to hear your two very different reactions to the two situations you mention. I agree that we don't always know our motivations and often go on instinct with these sorts of decisions. I would very much understand and respect your donating photos to a 9/11-related organization. Certainly, documentary photos from 9/11, taken both by pros and amateurs, tell important stories.</p>

<p>As to the smiling selfies at the Nazi death camps, I'd need to see the photos and the context in which they were displayed, but it sounds in pretty poor taste and I could imagine many people being very badly hurt by seeing those images. If it were meant ironically or made some sort of larger point as a serious series, it might still offend some but it might have redeeming value. But just as a fun stunt or thoughtless act, it would anger me to see them.</p>

<p>Lannie, regarding the first photo, I don't get the privacy or dignity issue. They don't seem to be in private and don't seem to be doing anything undignified. My hesitation would only be if they asked me not to take or display the photos. When I've been asked not to take a photo or not to show one I've taken, I've always agreed not to. I can't say I never would go against someone's wishes. There might be a good reason to ignore their wishes, but that would be rare for me. I'm glad the Smith photos exist. He was a known documentary photographer and working on informing the public of something vital. I don't know all the circumstances of his work in the community, but wouldn't be surprised if he had permission to photograph and if the people involved wanted these photos to become public. If someone knows the details of how he worked and what, if any, arrangements were made with the subjects of the photos, please let us know.</p>

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<p>Lannie, regarding the first photo, I don't get the privacy or dignity issue. They don't seem to be in private and don't seem to be doing anything undignified.</p>

 

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<p>Fred, she was knocked down by the troops, I am told, and so I don't see her as having any control over the situation. He was comforting her, according to one account that I read a long time ago.</p>

<p>Under those circumstances, I would consider the shot to be an "upskirt" shot and thus out of bounds.</p>

<p>--Lannie</p>

<p>Got it, Lannie. Especially with your explanation of what happened, I don't see it as an upskirt shot but rather a shot of someone compassionately helping her against the backdrop of a malaise that caused the situation in the first place. Given the context of what else is in the picture, it's hard for me to see any upskirt quality about it, nothing seems titillating or untoward. The picture doesn't lead me toward sexualizing or eroticizing her legs. Seems like great documentary photography and storytelling to me.But I can also see how you would reach a different conclusion. And, as I said, if either of the two didn't want it to be shown and I had control over the picture, I wouldn't show it.</p>

<p>Phil, I had an interesting experience recently when I was in Yosemite. I don't take many landscape pictures and don't respond emotionally to many landscape pictures, though there are exceptions. I was on a hike and I knew the trail would be relatively quiet as it was an off time of the year. I took a lot of pictures, but I don't think it was for evidence or to convert the experience to an image. As a matter of fact, I pretty much knew I wouldn't spend much time looking at the pictures later and would probably not share them with anyone. I did it to have a companion, the camera. I also found it helped slow me down and helped me look at the world more closely, finding angles and connections and seeing juxtapositions isolated through the lens that I might not otherwise see that way. I made it part of a photographic endeavor for myself but not with idea of it resulting in photos. It was more about looking photographically than photographing.</p>

I've taken a few photos that are for my eyes only. I will never share them. Is that the same as not taking a photo?

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<p>And, as I said, if either of the two didn't want it to be shown and I had control over the picture, I wouldn't show it.</p>

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<p>I agree, Fred. There is nothing "inherently indecent" (whatever that might mean) in the shot, but I would be especially sensitive to the woman's feelings if she had felt that she was being exploited or shamed in some way. I have not, however, read anything indicating that she has felt that way.</p>

<p>--Lannie</p>

<p>Over the years, I have on several occasions and at a family members request, taken photos of the deceased after everyone had left the funeral home for the evening. These photos reside on my computer and in my photo files and no one has ever asked to see them later. I keep them in case they ever want them and they know they are there if they decide they would like to see them. I still do so at someone's request.<br>

As for photos not taken, there have been times when, for personal reasons or feelings, I have not taken a photo and it was a decision that I later regretted. Other times, I have refrained from taking a photo out of respect for the feelings of those involved or observing. I have no photos, film or digital, that I have taken that I now regret having taken, either due to content or situation. <br>

Taking a photo is freezing a memory of a person or place in time so we can take it out later and be transported back to that time. If our memories are so good we can remember things like they were, we would never need to keep a photo. Leaving photographing the deceased out of it, I recommend always taking the photo if the situation is such that no one else is hurt or embarrassed by it. You can always delete it later but many events you don't get a second chance at. Carrying my camera and taking photos has never interfered with my enjoyment or appreciation of a location and I can look at a photo of a mountain stream years later and hear the water tumbling over rocks and feel the breeze in my face. <br>

And finally, my photos aren't just for me. My mother, who has never traveled to any extent, is now 88 years old and residing in a nursing home. She spends her days going over photos of family and friends, remembering places she hasn't seen since she was a little girl, and enjoying my photos from all over the world of places and events she never was close to. </p>

<p> </p>

<p>Norman, I'd probably say it's not the same thing but would prefer to hear your answer to that question. I'd love to know something about your experience of this, which is why I asked the question, but certainly understand if you don't want to say anything about it and feel it's a private matter.</p>

<p>Al, thanks for pointing out the flip side, which is that you've regretted photos you haven't taken. I also appreciate your last paragraph which points out something I, too, feel about many photos. I love that they can be shared.</p>

Fred, essentially very intimate photos where, for example, the look in the subject's eyes was for me and no one else. That

kind of thing. Nothing earth shattering but very personal. And I think keeping them personal makes them special.

<p>Thanks for elaborating, Norman. I get it.</p>

In regard to funeral photos, In the early part of the previous century,most people didn't have cameras to take snapshots. My grandmother and grandfather had a child who died at less than one year of age in early 1920. The coffin was set up in the front room or parlor and a photographer was called in to take a photo with his 11x14 view or studio camera to record the event. The 11x14 contact print photo was hung in the parlor along with the usual wedding photos.

 

http://jdainis.com/funeral1.jpg

<p>Colin Fletcher, the renowned writer on the art of "walking", had an interesting experience on his trek through the length of Grand Canyon National Park. In his book <em>The Man Who Walked Through Time,</em> he talks about his camera being damaged and becoming non-functional through most of the trek. Because he did the entire walk in one go, staying below the rim the entire time, and out of touch, he could not obtain or request a replacement. For him, the experience was at first frustrating, but ultimately became liberating. He found that he could focus all of his senses on absorbing he experience, rather than concentrating on making photographs. As a result, his book contains photos only from the beginning of the trip, but the richness of the narrative progressively increases as he embeds himself ever deeper in experiencing with his own senses, rather than through the camera's lens. I sometimes find myself on a walk where I, too, find more value in recording with my own senses, and ignoring the camera. Terry and Renny Russell share a similar experience and aesthetic, mixing words, memories, impressions, and photographs in their book <em>On the Loose</em>, first published in 1965, in which they talk about recording on the "indelible emulsion" of their minds.</p>

This question covers such a diverse number of direction and

strong opinions it is fascinating and hard to have brief or

always relevant comments. I have input on many of these but

talking of cultural approaches to funerals back in NY in the old

neighborhoods someone opined that Italians celebrate when

one is born and mourn when one passed while Irish in a sense

do the opposite. For them birth brings one into a hard world

with suffering and death frees them. Anecdotally from the funerals I

have been to I have seen this to some extent. Photos in this

case would have completely different functions. At my father

in law's funeral (he was Jewish) it seemed more intellectualized and he was 92. It was more like he finished living than he died and it was quite somber. But he came from a country where he could not practice so it was more cultural than religious. I do not think that photos would have been appropiate there at all.

<p>Some years ago there was a similar discussion on P.Net about photos at funerals, and I remember sharing that I had recently been to my younger sister's funeral, and although I felt that I should not carry a camera I came to regret that decision. Not because of an open casket situation - my sister had been cremated and our family does not do the open casket service as a rule. But the gathering was of people who have since dispersed for the most part, and in two cases they have passed on. I believe we should have taken the opportunity to take some photos of - document if you will - those gathered at that time. That group never got together again, and that is a loss.</p>

<p>There was one time I remember that I put the camera down because I felt it was wrong. We shoot a lot of photos trackside at various auto race events, and we were in Montreal when a driver coming at us started into a horrendous accident. Most of the crowd thought he'd killed himself, but somehow he managed to survive with only a twisted ankle. I remember consciously making the split-second decision to put the camera down because it looked bad and contrary to some opinion most people don't attend to watch drivers die. I don't regret that decision at all.</p>

<p>I do not know if regret is the right word to use. You did what you thought was the right the. I would say that if you had a magic crystyl ball you would have done things differently. To me regret implies a sense guilt. Again it comes down to how you define regret.</p>

""The only time I choose nor to shoot is when it disturbs the environment".

Every time you shoot you disturb the environment. In your case every time you speak you disturb the

environment.

<p>There's another kind of photo not taken, and it's one that taught me a lot. I took a roll of 72 transparencies (Oly Pen-FT) on a week-long backpack trip, and the images from that trip are some of the most vivid in my memory. Turns out a sprocket hole had ripped, and the film didn't advance after the first couple of frames. But something about "looking photographically" (I love that phrase, Fred) and then soon learning that I'd never have the actual photographs meant that I started off by being able to recall so much more than what would have been recorded on film, and those are the memories that I still have. It's as though once an image is preserved on film or a memory card, it's no longer as necessary to remember the details, and then you're stuck with just what got recorded. Anyway, since that ill-fated roll of Ektachrome, a lot of my most compelling pictorial memories are not the ones mediated by a camera, but are images that I framed in my mind as though they were going to be photographs. I guess it's the difference between memorizing a poem and reading a poem--if you memorize it, it's part of you. The added benefit, of course, is that those unaided pictorial memories are all perfectly focused, perfectly exposed, show the full dynamic range, and come with audio and scent.</p>

Interesting. I sometimes ruminate on subjects like this. If we see an image that we do not record or imagine an image

does it exist? I would say yes but does the photo exist? No