A collection of street photography cliches was trying to talk to me. I was standing on a bridge in the centre of Bangkok, camera on a tripod in front of me. He was carrying a Leica M6 and a nice Billingham bag. He took frequent asides from our brief conversation to take photos of something that was clearly beyond the reach of his lens. He said: “Yeah, man” a lot. It was all very performative. Yet, it was my fault. I’d complimented the bag.
Cartier-Bresson was the Big Bang for street photographers and has this tortuous encounter to answer for. His geometric compositions took the everyday – or at least what passed for the everyday where Cartier-Bresson’s wealth allowed him to be – and turned it into something interesting. Like me, you might hate those who look at the likes of Cartier-Bresson, stating: “What’s the big deal. I could do that.” And never do. Be brave enough to put that claim into action. If street photography is something you’re tempted by, here’s some of the additional barriers you might encounter along the way.
Beginner’s Lark
So, you have a camera. Now you’re going to be Cartier-Bresson or at least his nearest non-union equivalent. Not so. This is the first lesson to learn. The first hurdle is the camera itself. Focus is straightforward enough today, if you can get the autofocus settings right and get the thing out of its automatic modes. Having a partner that doesn’t mess with your settings helps too. Sometime around 2012, I stood in a park on the eastern side of Thailand trying to take a photo of nothing special, angrily asking which damned mode stopped it being blurred. Turned out it was none of them. Pre-sets are three-in-one coffee. Learn manual settings.
The second hurdle is the unhelpful ocean of self-help literature with adjective-laden titles mystifying the whole process. The beginner must work their way through these endless grifters preying on enthusiasm and naivete. Photography isn’t a cheap hobby and sharks smelling disposable income know this.
Third is the amateur/professional distinction. Never take advice from people you wouldn’t naturally ask for help. Avoid feedback wrapped in modal verb abuse. Of the infinite choices available in the moment, how in error we were not to focus on the singular action you would have taken. We could have done it that way. Yes, we could have painted it pink and called it a unicorn. But we didn’t. You’ll soon discover plenty of useless people who’ll think you’re entitled to their opinion. Stop asking permission or seeking approval.
The next surmountable issue is a toxic mix of cliches, enthusiast social media groups and gear idolatry. First, you get all the wannabe National Geographic contributors taking the same cliches of orange sunsets and misty sunrises, long exposure waterfalls and uninspired unoriginal tedium. Avoid Instagram. It ceased being about quality photography a long time ago. When you’re framing up a shot, ask: “Have I seen this on Instagram ten times this week?”
Sadly, gear does matter. I was convinced of this after browsing the photo section of an inflight magazine that helpfully labelled all its award-winning images with brands and exposure triangle settings. No-one is using an entry level DSLR from 2013, despite the fact the images hold up perfectly. You could, but pink unicorns.
Leica groups will instantly divest you of the notion that the newest or the most expensive branded gear puts you in the same conversation as McCurry or Erwitt. The camera might be a costly signal of financial viability, but it also signals vanity and a total lack of critical awareness. Or a lost soul on a bridge trying to totem their way into a fashionable tribe. Why do people post so many terrible photos taken outside Waitrose on a Sunday morning or of their horrendous ginger children? And why would you use a Leica to do so? I’m guessing they haven’t learnt the recolour tool in photoshop yet.
Once you’ve got past the technical issues and the crippling fear of being judged unworthy, you need to find something to focus on. I spent many months filling memory cards with images of ceiling fans, extractors, and cups. You get itchy and enthusiastic shutter finger. It’s a phase, and much like compulsive teenage masturbation and canned lager, you’ll grow out of it eventually. Think of such images as sketchbook doodles. No-one will ever tell you when you’re ready to begin.
Next, overcome the warranted feeling of self-awareness whenever you appear in public with your camera. Yes, you are going to feel like a total arse. Stop blaming the camera. To the normies, you are of no more consequence than annoying trainspotters, annoying cyclists and scary street corner ranters. I once set up a tripod shot in Pays Basque just as one of the overly sensitive local police decided to wander through my frame. My name went in the antiterrorism book. You’ll just have to accept that photographers are a social nuisance; so is Herpes Simplex.
Fight or Flight
Most cameras end up at the bottom of cupboards; a significant portion of those dwindling camera sales just didn’t work out. iPhone mediocrity is a powerful thing if you are trying to capture the blossoming of your Gollum-like children. Most people’s photography aspirations don’t develop much past that. If it does, it becomes dad’s way of coping with his Al Bundy-like existence.
If you achieve escape velocity, can get outside and avoid getting your camera stolen by the local drug-addicted hoodie, you’ll find suburbia less than inspiring. Yes, you might be the next Tish Murtha but the odds are against it. Walking the streets of any depressing urban hellscape will have you chasing the dealers soon enough. If you still cling possessively to that camera, follow Steve McCurry’s advice: if you want to take good photos, leave home. From experience I can tell you the opposite side of the planet is the ideal starting place.
Then one unsuspecting day, when you are struggling with the exposure triangle, heat stroke and chilli poisoning, you’ll click on a video about Cartier-Bresson. You’ll recognise something more interesting than portrait, sport, and pornographic photography exists. And then you’re hooked. Suddenly, that business arrangement with that hoodie might have been a healthier long-term financial choice.
Location, Location, Location
You must make peace with street photography being about luck. Failing to find anything worth a second look is really nothing personal. Yes, you can do something to get yourself into a more favourable location. What is a good photo worth to you? Are you a Sunday photographer or the sort of driven crazy prepared to buy a one-way ticket to the nearest warzone?
The next obvious problem is you need to be somewhere that actually has streets. Many places just have roads. If you like magic hour images and glorious rich colours, I recommend trying an extended few years in the developing world. I spent three in Burma, and it turned out to be – at the time – a street shooter’s paradise. Avoid Morocco – notoriously hostile to photographers.
Developed named destinations tend to be generic and sterile. Avoid anywhere tourist guides recommend, otherwise you’ll just end up chasing the same Instagram slop as everyone else. Pleasant environments make for dull pictures. As much as I hated the dirt, pollution and traffic in Kathmandu, it’s a people-rich environment and the narrow streets were ideal locations. Just consider what you’re stepping in. A good pair of rubber-soled Vibram walking shoes are essential – they’ll protect you from the cold, uneven floors and the muck. A good facemask will have your lungs thanking you later.
The Cartier-Bresson Fallacy
Cartier-Bresson’s legacy has fostered all sorts of unrealistic and unhelpful myths. You’ll have seen the footage of Henri dancing around his oblivious subjects. If you didn’t attend ninja academy, you’ll need a more realistic strategy.
Perhaps anonymity is an urban thing. In your racially homogenous environment, you might well be part of that crowd. Not so in a small town in central Burma. You’ll get used to hearing the local language equivalent of “Oh my god, ma! Come look what’s coming down the street.” Kiss anonymity goodbye and embrace visibility. I made prints for many of the people I photographed, and that won hearts and minds better than sneaking. The trade-off is accepting you’ll end up in a lot of selfies with the locals.
The next myth to bust is the 28mm-50mm lie. Sure, great work was done with wide to standard lenses, but proximity will disturb and chase away many good subjects. Forget you-can’t-use-that lens-for-that-task nonsense. Want to shoot street with a 70-200mm? Do it. Remember, it’s about the image, not the gear. Do what works for you with what you have.
Carrying two cameras works for many journalists. If you’re bogged down by your gear, you might as well have a sign on your back shouting “come mug me”. Get yourself a generic day sack – and something waterproof – and limit to one camera in the hand and one in the bag. If your accessories look like body armour, you’re doing it wrong.
“You camera come!”
Good advice is as rare as pink unicorn shit. My essential point is, to borrow a term from American project management: “just fucking do it”. If you have that feeling there’s something going on out there and you’re missing it, take HCB’s advice and carry that camera with you everywhere you go. One afternoon in central Burma, I stumbled across a local festival with a precession dressed as cows. A man shouted: “You camera come!” at me. Apart from the bonus of learning the syntax of the local language, you might stumble into something memorable. An elderly Burmese gentleman tending his garden asked if I were a ‘correspondent’. An odd man on a Thai bridge kept saying: “Yeah, man.” Nothing beats knowing you’ve witnessed things the majority have not. Just remember what you’re shooting isn’t likely to wear a groove in the historical record. Should that stop you from doing it?
Bizarrely our culture seems to think ‘experience’ counts as some sort of capital. If it is, abundance makes it a grossly devalued one. An expert is someone who’s made every conceivable mistake in a given area. You should go make your own. Street photography isn’t breaking news or cinematography; it’s less about pictures and more about navigating through a strange world.
But what would I know? I’m just an idiot with a camera.
Lee Russell Wilkes 