G'night

 

Stranger and stranger

It's been pointed out to me that taking these kinds of photographs can be construed as creepy. I suppose I thought I would be immune to the accusation of invasion of privacy as I wasn't photographing the person's face, so they wouldn't be identifiable. But there's the odd reasoning that says it's still unethical, as the person has no chance of being aware they're being photographed, and so have no say whatsoever. When I think about it that way I see these photographs as what they represent of me, what they say about my personality and how I view other people, and relationships in general. The half-wayness. Or I dunno, maybe I'm reading too much of a muchness into it, I'm tired and grumpy today.

I didn't consciously realise I had taken so many photographs of stranger's backs until about a year and a half ago when I started looking back through the photos I'd taken to that point - I was in search of a unifying theme to make up a series to apply to an exhibition proposal. I was a little surprised to see how many I had taken, especially without having been aware of it. Looking back now I wonder what effect that knowledge has had on me when taking these photos now. I think I actually started taking more of them, but now I had a frame of reference. I became able to recognise what it was I actually thought would make (to me) a good photograph, or at least a photograph that said something. I still wasn't, and am not, sure what exactly that is. My reasons are still at the subconscious level, and while they're there all I can do is guess.

I don't think there's anything sinister in it, or creepy. I can see where the thought comes from but my intentions, though vague, are definitely not malevolent. On a practical level taking photographs of people without them even being aware of my presence is a way to avoid any sort of confrontation. But that raises the question of why I feel the need to include people at all. Why, if I'm so shy or scared, do I just not bother at all and stick to scenes bereft of people? Landscapes, still lifes etcetera. The simple, and honest, answer is that landscapes bore me and still lifes seem like too much work. But in relation to what? Which just brings me back to the question, why this necessity to include people?
I do know that if I'm looking at a series of photographs in a book or on a blog or wherever I spend more time looking at those that feature people in some way. I'm pretty sure I've always felt that way. I think the reason I preferred looking at, and later taking myself, these photographs is because of the variability, of expression (literal and figurative), of size, shape, race, gender, whatever. It's like every photograph of a person is somehow more new than a photograph of the moon or a field or a river or a building or a spider's eye or a monument or a flower or a tree or a dead animal or a cloud or a gravestone.

I still do take a lot of these photos (most of the ones here are from the last year or so) but I do take plenty of people directly within their line of sight. It's not a case of doing it once and then being able to do it always; I find that more than any other type of photograph this is the most dependent on my own mood. I generally have no problem asking someone for their photograph (again, depending on my own mood) but I find I don't do this very often, unless there's a specific reason. There's something about the person looking at the lens that lacks mystery. Maybe I just can't take those photographs. 

Black black black

Night and the Lights

I've been working on this for a few weeks now and I'm finding it difficult to articulate what it is exactly I'm doing. Sometimes it seems to be referring to cinematic light, or the lighting you'd find in a photographic studio. But it's always found lighting, and the things that become lit are given this odd sort of significance; as if they were meant to be there, and are in some way important. It's led me to wonder what it is exactly that lighting bestows on a person or object or space, why it has this power to lend significance. I've photographed these scenes wherever a certain kind of lighting occurs and the things that are lit are supposedly insignificant - rubbish, posts, gates, trees (possibly too many trees...), bushes, gutters, the ground even. I like the idea that, in a way, it's naturally occuring, yet inherently artificial.

As I do more research on photographers that have influenced me or new photographers that have explored similar themes I find myself increasingly becoming alternately inspired and confused. More ideas are generated but this leads to a muddying of intentions, so I sometimes feel like I'm losing track of the point. But it seems to be coming together a little more recently. Writing this stuff helps.

Related to this idea I think is the idea of disconnection when taking a photograph... I haven't thought about this properly yet but I've had to take photos recently of photo-books for projects and such. It's strange how easy it is to forget that the subject is this amazing work by an artist you love and admire when all you're looking at is how well exposed the image is, if the page around it is white or off-white, whether the page is in focus etc and you just don't see a great photographer's work, all you see is a set of criteria. I also feel that when taking a person's photograph there's a sense of scaling the person down, almost turning them into the same set of criteria by which you'd judge any other photograph. It's like micro-managing the world or something...

So this relates to this project in the sense that I'm sort of confronting a fear (the dark) by placing it in the confined context of a photograph, where everything is managed and controlled, where the attention is drawn, 

momentarily, to the photograph of the surroundings and away from the surroundings themselves. It's like dealing with a difficult situation by avoidance, or even denial. And when it's a digital photo it becomes all the more immediate and powerful. I watched a guy take a photo recently; I saw him see the scene (a building beside a river); then stop; then take out the camera; focus, adjust; take the photo; then walk away looking at the photo on the back of the camera. I watched him till he was out of sight and not once did he look back at the building. He'd captured the sight/site and stored it for later perusal, safe in the knowledge that the camera would do his remembering for him. In this way his world is managed, memory and experience almost usurped by record and document. It's a dislocation of your emotions where you choose when to remember and define your experience by looking at images displayed on a glowing rectangle.

Rest bite

I really haven't got the time to be making this post but what the heck; if you can't have a biscuit with your tea then something something something free.

   

More from those couple of rolls of last year.

These three I suppose are of pretty significant occurrences/non-occurrences, for an assortment of reasons, none of them overly pertinent to... anyone? Nevertheless, the photos were taken and still exist.

This week, I have been mostly reading too much about ROBERT FRANK. For an oral presentation I have to give tomorrow. Though he is legendary and amazing and tragic and gifted I've had only a week to prepare this thing and most of those days were spent in buses/work/practice/gig/buses
[or is it "busses"? "Buses" makes me think it's pronounced like Gary Busey].
Hence the lack of time.
The high of an excellent gig/night had completely dissipated by yesterday morning, to be replaced by a sort of grim and petty irritation, giving way to outright joylessness and curmudgeonability. PLUS IT'S STILL REALLY COLD WHAT THE HELL.  But I digress/depress. More gigs in Cork and Limerick and I'm excited and buoyed, like an exciting buoy. And a friend has promised some free film for me this week! YESSS.

Digi-friends

       

Walking drunk through the streets and I couldn't stop taking photos. I make no apologies!