“…my looking really changed, it really did become sacred. Sort of this intensity of looking at the world, and looking really closely, and photographing things that were not exciting, but things that were sort of washed with presence and with light.”
I’ve returned to this quote from writer and photographer Teju Cole a half-dozen times over the last year. By the time I first heard it I was a few years into looking for a new way to photograph. I’d started photography inspired and guided by the culture of the Decisive Moment, and I was on an endless search for images that were both balletic and exact. It was important that the images were exciting because I was trying to grab at your attention.
There are a number of photos from this time that I love, the above being one of them. But I had a growing restlessness about forcing the world into looking a certain way. I watched every scene thinking the good bit either hadn’t happened yet, or had already passed, and so I’d set up and wait for the next one to arrive. I think I misidentified this whole thing as being observant.
I photographed all of 2020 this way too, with everyone’s faces newly obscured and foreboding in the air, and by the end of it I knew I needed a change. I picked up a new camera and stopped going to the places I’d become used to, places where I felt guaranteed to get a photo. There was a bit of a shift in my perspective here too: I wasn’t just going out to photograph, I was going out to explore. While exploring I would photograph what captured my attention. In a way, the image was now coming to me. I became less interested by arranging things into a version of how I wanted the world to look. Instead, I became sort of mesmerized by what it is.
Photographing this way may seem at first to lack the electricity of the Decisive Moment. Maybe that is because what electricity there is, is not current, but static. It’s only in moving closer that you feel its spark. There was a strange power in this kind of image for me though, and it kept me at it for a year or two before I came across the quote above.
Listening to Cole speak, I heard described this new thing I’d been searching for and had occasionally seen and vaguely understood: photographs of presence.
I think it will be a while yet before I can define precisely what ‘presence’ in a photograph means to me. But it’s something I recognize when I see a photo that works, and I’m keeping the term in mind when I lift the camera to frame what’s grabbed my attention. After that, all that’s left is to trust the spark.
Do you have a photo of yours you feel has ‘presence’? If you do, please put a link below. I’d love to see it.
Cheers,
Chris.
Love that shot of the glowing curtains, Chris! And the courage to try something new. I can relate to that feeling of going into battle and in my opinion it's an unsustainable way to shoot. Need less stress in my life, not more!
l love Cole's writing, and his photographs. His work sometimes remind me of Luigi Ghirri's—which I think also has the quality of presence that you are describing. Sometimes a photograph looks like it was just there in the world, waiting for someone to put a frame around it. This might make those kinds of photos sound easy, but I think as you point out here, it can remarkably challenging—a product of a certain kind of practiced attention. Almost like a relaxing of the eye.