The Beauty of Street Photography!

Street photography is an art almost as old as photography itself. With the advent of portable cameras, photographers began exploring and documenting the world around them, capturing unstaged moments, interpreting life and challenging the perceptions. But I find myself very timid when walking down a street taking pictures of absolute strangers. I start off hesitant clicking a picture here, another there. And soon you will find me clicking away to my heart's content, approaching and talking to strangers, the original misgivings forgotten. I still prefer being invisible; it gets amazing candid shots!

Busy public places are fantastic for street photography as its easier to be invisible in a crowd. In the words of Joel Meyerowitz, "There is something exciting about being in a crowd, in all that chance and change - it's tough out there - but if you can keep paying attention, something will reveal itself - just a split second - and then there's a crazy cockeyed picture."

Madivala market, just a stone's throw from my place, is an ideal location for street photography. Having someone like Pattu along definitely helps soothe the nerves. While shooting on the streets, I find him quietly confident, observing the scene with an open mind ready to capture whatever appears in the viewfinder. He can easily strike a conversation with absolute strangers, complimenting them and requesting permission to take their portrait.

Street photography is all about gestures and expression. Subjects and settings can vary greatly and spontaneity helps. The goal is to tell a story in a single frame, communicate an emotion. Henri Cartier-Bresson, considered the father of modern photojournalism, has opined "Photography is not like painting. There is a creative fraction of a second when you are taking a picture. Your eye must see a composition or an expression that life itself offers you, and you must know with intuition when to click the camera. That is the moment the photographer is creative. Oops! The Moment! Once you miss it, it is gone forever." He termed this the decisive moment. Street photographers strive to capture the life and culture of city streets, searching for the decisive moment.

I normally prefer black and white for this genre as it helps remove any distractions of colour from the frame, allowing the viewer to be more drawn to the subject. The best thing about street photography is that it is possible for the final viewer to see more than the original photographer. There are lots of stories out there waiting to be told. And I am ready with my camera to have some fun!

The Cranky Old Man!

Feels good to be back after more than 6 months. Haven't had much opportunity of wielding the camera either. But now that, I got around to processing some old pictures, thought of posting this picture of an old man I met during a short visit to Courtallam. He had a shop with a view of the waterfall. My friend and I stepped in for a few minutes and chatted with him while relishing the banana chips he offered us.

The interaction reminded me of a few lines from the beautiful adaptation by David L Griffith of Crabbit Old Woman originally penned down by Phyllis McCormack.

I'm a small child of ten, with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters, who love one another.
A young boy of sixteen, with wings on his feet,
Dreaming that soon now, a lover he'll meet.
A groom at twenty, my heart gives a leap,
Remembering the vows, that I promised to keep.
At twenty-five, now, I have young of my own,
Who need me to guide, and a secure happy home.
A man of thirty, my young now grown fast,
Bound to each other, with ties that should last.
At forty, my young sons, have grown and are gone,
But my woman is beside me, to see that I don't mourn.
At fifty, once more, babies play 'round my knee,
Again, we know children, my loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me, my wife is now dead,
I look at the future, I shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing, young of their own,
And I think of the years, and the love that I've known.
I am now an old man, and nature is cruel,
It's jest to make old age, look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles, grace and vigour, depart,
There is now a stone, where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass, a young man still dwells,
And now and again, my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys, I remember the pain,
And I'm loving and living, life over again.
I think of the years, all too few, gone too fast,
And accept the stark fact, that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people, open and see,
Not a cranky old man. Look closer, see, me!

The Old Man by the Sea

In New York for the Memorial Day weekend. Really bowled over by the Big Apple.One belongs to New York instantly, one belongs to it as much in ten minutes as in ten years.

I loved the tall skyscrapers, the busy streets where people jostle and whir like molecules in an overheated jar. Each person on the streets of New York is one of a type. The city is one big theater where everyone is on display.

I met this gentleman by the quay while waiting for the ferry to take us to Liberty island. Long queues under an unrelenting sun. This old gentleman was entertaining the crowd by playing some musical instrument and dancing to its beats.

His expression left something unsaid, some story untold. The eyes had seen a lot. Wish I had been able to chat up with the old gentleman that day.