People Who Need People . . .

"People who need people

Are the luckiest people in the world."

 - Bob Merrill

Remembering that this blog is about my journey back to film photography, when I first began using a "higher quality" SLR camera (a Minolta XG that I bought the very day I received my first music teacher paycheck in September, 1980) I quickly discovered that I did not feel comfortable taking photos of people. Sure, there are a lot of fun-to-take but poorly-composed snapshots from those years. But as I began to aspire to become a more "serious" photographer and focus on making good travel photographs, I not only avoided having people in my photos, but I also actively excluded them. I wanted that perfect shot of that great landmark, and people simply got in the way. I could wait patiently for a long time until all the people were gone so I could ge my shot.

However, my photos of great historical sites look like . . . well . . . like everybody else photos of the same sight. There was always a nagging thought in my mind that, as least back then, I could have bought slides of places like Mt. Rushmore that looked better than mine did at the souvenir shop.

I'm now in my second go-around with film photography, and the influence that Robert Frank, Gary Winogrand, and Vivian Maier have had on me has forever changed my vision. Sure, there are many photographic opportunities where people are not needed, and all the work from Ansel Adams to John Shaw (and many others) bear that out. But my journey has taken me to where I can begin to see the photographic potential of people being interesting, unique, or even ironic. I now look forward to taking my camera out to places where there are lots of people doing things that catch my eye.

Mandolin Picker, Bear on the Square Festival, Dahlonega, Ga.

Brooklyn Street, Brooklyn, NY.

Folk Dancers, Bear on the Square Festival, Dahlonega, Ga.

4th of July Parade, Hilton Head Island, SC

Guitar Picker, Bear on the Square Festival, Dahlonega, Ga.

I always wondered (as perhaps you?) whether I should shoot first and ask second (maybe) or ask first. The truth is that I do both. If I am obvious and possible distracting or even annoying, I will ask permission first. But most of the situations I encounter involve people who will probably not know or care that they are being photographed, and I just shoot. A long lens (like something around 100mm) can help me get closer to a subject without getting uncomfortably close. Knowing how to use hyperlocal focus distance also helps me to be quicker with my camera. Using fast film helps me to be flexible with lighting changes, also.

Chances are that Mt. Rushmore will look pretty much the same next year as it does this year. But everyday people are out doing things that may never get reported exactly the same way. I now enjoy the challenge of seeing the uniqueness of a given moment and capturing it on film for posterity. I urge you to load your camera and get out there. Photographers need people, and that make them the luckiest people in the world!

Takin' It to the Streets

Back in the late 1980's I experienced my first go around with trying to become a more serious photographer and not just a snap shooter. I read every book I could get my hands on and even went to a workshop or two. One book that stood out was The Nature Photographer's Complete Guide to Professional Field Techniques by John Shaw.

Not only were Mr. Shaw's nature photographs beautiful, but also the chapter on exposure was the most understandable explanation of the sunny f16 rule that I had ever heard. I highly recommend this book if you can find it.

As much as I enjoy Mr. Shaw's book, I knew that I was not cut out to be a nature photographer, partially because I did not have the long lenses that nature photography requires, but mainly because I didn't have the emotional connection to nature that Shaw wrote was necessary. Sure, I enjoyed nature, but I wasn't interested in learning to identify species of plants or even animals. What I really got excited about was travel photography. I've always felt emotional connections to places of historical significance. And since my wife, Debbie, and I like to travel, I focused my photography on capturing significant scenes of place.

And yet, hundreds of Kodachrome slides later, I realized that my photography was mediocre at best. Why? Because I was only trying to recreate each place as others had already photographed it. Essentially, I was making snapshots of places like Mt. Rushmore, Savannah, Georgia, or most any place I visited.

Salem College, Winston-Salem, NC. One of the few photos of
I was proud in my early days of photography. 

My photographs were no different than many others of the same subject, and they probably were inferior to most. Also, I had absolutely no confidence in photographing people. In fact, I saw people as getting in the way of what I what trying to capture on film.

I am happy to report that, in my second go around with film photography, things have been very different. Perhaps it is because I am older and see the world differently; perhaps it is because of books  Vivian Maier and Robert Frank's photography. Whatever the reason, I am learning to see things that I never would have thought interesting enough to photograph before. For example, one of my favorite things to do now is simply walk down a street in a city or town with my camera ready. I look for anything that seems even remotely interesting:  signs, architecture, repeating or contrasting shapes or colors, irony,  and, yes, even people. Especially people. I am no longer afraid to capture an image of interest involving people. I've taken the approach of "shoot first and ask questions later." And it has paid off.

Please Keep Off Steps
Brooklyn, NY

Barber Shop
Brooklyn, NY

Parking Lot Pickers
Bear on the Square Festival, Dahlonega, Georgia

Oddstory Brewing
Chattanooga, Tennessee

People take out their smartphones and shoot photos of a dish of food they have just been served because they feel an emotional connection to it. I try to do the same for the small things that attract me to a place. And yes, it might even be a pint of beer.

Chattanooga Brewing
Chattanooga, Tennessee

There is beauty in the details, and these photos of mine that capture details that I found interesting give me far more enjoyment than any of my well-exposed but otherwise ordinary photos of famous places.

I am still a long way away from being the photographer I want to be someday, but this is what I have learned so far:  Don't wait until you are looking at Mt. Rushmore or the Grand Canyon. Most everyone knows what those places look like, anyway. Load your camera with film (or get your digital camera) and head for any place that you find interesting and become an observer. Take your photography to the street (whatever that means to you) and capture the people and things that most people miss. When you get your photos back, you may have lots of keepers or just a few, but it doesn't matter - keep practicing your vision and your camera craft. I remember something I read somewhere that said, "Cameras take pictures, but photographers make photographs." Keep persistently practicing your ability to see. Sooner or later, you will be making photographs that make you proud and keep you going back out for more.

Norway and the Christmas Camera

A trip to Europe has been a bucket list item for my wife and myself for many years, but thanks to the encouragement and insistence of my younger daughter, Amber, we finally made it across the Atlantic Ocean in late December, 2017. Our destination was Bryggen, Norway. I would not be honest if I said I wasn't nervous about going to such a northernly location around Christmas, as I am not a cold weather person at all. However, our clothing preparation helped make the experience quite tolerable, as did the fact that, for the duration of our stay, Bryggen was quite a bit warmer than my hometown of Chattanooga, Tennessee.

As we prepared for our trip, I also gave a lot of thought as to what cameras I should bring. I already had made the decision to shoot film - a risk, given the fact that I might never make it back to Norway, and that this could well be my one photographic shot (pun intended). There were some issues to consider, such as weight (we were not checking luggage, so the entirety of our belongings had to fit in backpacks, including camera gear), airport security (like keeping the film safe from X-rays), versatility (lenses, film, etc.), and reliability (my film cameras are between thirty and forty years old).

Eventually, I chose my two Nikon bodies, an FE and an FM2n. For lenses I chose two Nikkors, a 50mm 1.7 and a 105mm 2.8, and also a Vivitar 28mm 2.8. The FM2n would be loaded with Kodak Tri-X 400 b&w film, while the FE would get Kodak Gold 200 color film.

And then, just days before our departure,  came the family Christmas celebration. And as I unwrapped the present from my brother, Kelley, I saw it: a beautiful, clean, handsome Minolta 7s rangefinder.

I have always been partial to Minoltas, and I have owned and used several of their SLR's. But lately I had been desiring a rangefinder, and obviously, my brother had been listening to me talk about this one wishfully. I immediately wanted to use it, but we were leaving for New York City the next day to begin our journey to Norway. What to do?

I made the quick decision to leave the FE behind and take the 7s in it's place. After all, I already was risking it shooting film on such a monumental trip. Why not throw all caution to the wind and take an untested camera along. My one comforting thought was that the FM2n is a fully mechanical camera, and should the electronics fail, I could still shoot it.

That line of thinking later proved to be quite ironic.

We stayed with our daughter in Brooklyn for a couple of days waiting for our flight to Norway. I took the FM2n out and did some street shooting on Christmas Day. Everything seemed fine, and later when I developed and scanned that roll of Tri-X, I was quite pleased with the results.

However, the first time I took the FM2n out in Bryggen, it let me down. The film advance would not stop after a frame, and then it wouldn't advance at all. As I had no way to fix it until I got it home, back into the backpack it went, and out came the 7s, loaded with color film. The camera has a working meter on it, but the light in Norway is so strange (the sun never gets very high in late December) that I ended up bracketing everything. Nevertheless, after developing and scanning, I had some shots of which I was quite proud. The old Minolta 7s came through.

Being in Norway was an incredible experience, partially because it was my first time being somewhere other than the USA, but mainly because the natural beauty is stunning and the city of Bryggen is clean, efficient, historical, and charming. There was no shortage of things at which to point your camera lens. Although I want to visit many other places in Europe, I really hope I can return to Norway someday. It was truly magical.

Once I returned home I was able to repair the FM2n myself (don't ask me how), and now it's back to being its old reliable self again. But my Minolta 7s will always be the Christmas gifts that allowed me to bring back a little of Norway with me.