eyes on the street

I try and mix my reading between fact and fiction. Much like my life really. Two books I've recently enjoyed, Ground Control by Anna Minton and The Man of the Crowd by Edgar Allan Poe, have given me some great insight into my street photography.

I've always been conscious, and used to my advantage, the aversion of most people on the street to actively looking around. This self absorption is a natural defence mechanism to unwanted eye contact. However the act of looking can be interpreted as an act of social responsibility. Drawing on Jane Jacobs's portrait of New York neighbourhoods of the fifties, their rhythms of daily life observed by a cast of characters from a Helen Levitt street scene, Minton contrasts that particular form of natural surveillance, mutually acknowledged by strangers for the common good, with our modern experience. 

Granted it's a jump, perhaps not so great, to the anonymous, unsyncopated churn of London's west end of today but what struck me was her description of this activity as the "eyes on the street". Who now occupies this role? Who is sensitive to the hour of the day, to the random acts of strangers?

This notion of eyes on the street, of a self-anointed guardian angel, sprang to life when I then read Poe's short story. In The Man of the Crowd I'm dragged through the streets of Victorian London in pursuit of an anonymous figure, an odd man out, a consequence of the author's surreptitious survey of the passing scene.

The wild effects of the light enchained me to an examination of individual faces; and although the rapidity with which the world of light flitted before the window prevented me from casting more than a glance upon each visage, still it seemed that, in my then peculiar mental state, I could frequently read, even in that brief interval of a glance, the history of long years.

Published in 1840, neatly coinciding with the pioneering work of Fox Talbot, Poe foreshadows a street photography routine, one in fact taken up superbly by Sophie Calle's Suite Vénitienne.

On reflection these two sources give me a real sense of the significance of street photographers today, just in the simple act of doing what we do: stopping, looking, stopping, following. Minding other people's busi-ness.

Land, ho!

Captain's log, March 14th 2012...
I'm proud to announce the safe arrival of the good ship Ambiguous. Passage has taken just over 12 months and taken in a number of ports around the globe. Progress had been constant, only becalmed around the turn of the year. The crew are a disparate bunch but all shown great endeavour in our enterprise.

Yes I imagine many of you believed this mission had proven the world really is flat, and fallen off it, but you are mistaken! I had little idea this project would take the time it has but I'm still incredibly pleased.

Looking at all the images submitted since last March is a walk through a family album of sorts. In the same way a snap of a childhood day at the beach prompts reflection beyond the frame on the circumstances of the event, each participant in the Ambiguous Book Project has not only given up an image but also some real insight into their lives. For me the ideas I've harboured around the meaning of images and the interpretations they are open to has been wonderful to explore.

Now we enter the Book part of the project. I've been working on layout ideas and will be shortly contacting all the participants with details.

Prepare for landing!

portrait of a street photograph, part 2

Well I've made an edit of the images from Barcelona which, on a cold, dark day in London, is a welcome tonic! One of the consequences of the gestation of my work is an appreciation not only of the passage of time but of season in particular. The scraps of sunshine in the winter city are both a promise of days to come and a reminder of the capriciousness I'm at the mercy of.

I'm really happy the potential mise-en-scene of the contact sheet I was particularly occupied by has been realised. This is a first for me! I've left out the don't go back ingredient of my own recipe for street photography. Before now my experience has been that I can never beat that initial, gut response to a possible picture. Any second attempts become 3T: too thought through. 

On this occasion I managed to keep the spontaneity of the first contact and, by turning the dance of the street to my advantage, come away with two images that both stand alone and together.

Hope the London saying about waiting for a bus for a long time and then two come along together will be true for me. Twenty years will be a long time to wait for another such opportunity!

See more sunshine here.

Evelyn Hofer, a great photographer

I was fortunate over the holidays to drop in to my favourite second hand book shop. A while back I came across an original catalogue for the Family of Man exhibition so I always cross its threshold with a lovely sense of possibility, often dissipated. On this occasion however I found real treasure. Not a great rarity but a book whose cover had really made an impression on me when I saw it first time around, a monograph of Evelyn Hofer. 

With the luxury of looking at it at home and not furtively in a shop I was really absorbed by her images of Dublin in the sixties. A place and time with resonance in my own life. Despite appearances to the contrary I do enjoy colour photography. The particular light evoked in those images so integral to their representation of time and place I can only stand and stare. The portraits anonymous, for the most part, but complicit. Subjects soulful.

Girl with Bicycle, Dublin 1966, Evelyn Hofer

Her work is so wonderful and so largely unknown that, not for the first time, I wonder how quickly we rush to form a view on the Canon of Great Photographers. It's human nature of course. We all need our Top Ten songs, film stars...paint names [no? maybe that's just me].

There's the occasional Vivian Maier to upset the status quo but there is so much great work to discover and enjoy. Not every photograph that can be taken has been taken! Or at least found.

In the meantime I'll keep riffling through the shelves of pre-loved books, open for persuasion.

turning for home

Since my last post in July the scope of the Ambiguous Book Project has entered uncharted territory. I've found it fascinating how we've moved out of the urban, through the suburban, beyond countryside into wilderness.

As we approach the fiftieth, that's right 50th, image of the sequence we're almost home but I'm sure not without some more twists before we're done.

In the meantime I've been thinking of how the book can be formatted and structured. In this instance the primary challenges of any book, the edit and the sequence, have already been taken care of. The very nature of Ambiguous means every image is included and they will each be presented in relationship to the one they respond to. In that sense all I'll need to do is click Get Photos then Autoflow and, ladies and gentlemen, my work is done. It's certainly an attractive option. I've taken an invisible hand to the project so far, gently nudging it on its path since launch back in February. 

However this collection of images is becoming such a wonderful resource I just wonder, I just wonder...

In keeping with the spirit of the essential ambiguity of photographs I toy with an idea made famous by David Bailey's Box of Pin-Ups. A loose, unbound collection of prints that can be seen in any sequence the viewer chooses. Willfully perverse though it may seem I find there's something in the idea of literally throwing Ambiguous up in the air and letting the viewer take a treasure hunt approach to join the images together as they fall...Yes? No? I think it's one I'll have to save for another day unless Blurb suddenly add this to their ever expanding list of publishing options. Why they may even have a Direct From Facebook one soon...wait a minute, what's this?

Hold on to your hats. Can we complete the project by next February to meet it's first birthday? I certainly hope so!