∴Talking to Strangers∴
My early photography amounted to taking pictures of things over there. These things were usually single people or objects - it didn’t matter too much what they were so long as they fit well enough in the box. The distance between me and what I was photographing equalized them all. It took me some time to realize it, but the physical distance between me and my subject definitely made for an emotional distance in the images.
Getting closer to people to shoot was a little daunting, but at the time I was learning this I had just moved to Korea, and I knew I looked like a tourist. For a while, I was able to hide behind a bit of a contrived fish-out-of-water goofiness. I was making pictures right on the edge of people’s space, and it felt good to be growing in confidence. But for all this proximity, there was still a noticeable distance, just of another kind. You could just tell in the images that the action was sniped. It was a passing moment frozen with none of the resonance achieved by a mutual awareness and acceptance between the subject and me.
And so eventually I said ‘Hello.’ This simple greeting was all it took to wade that half-step deeper into the space of the person who interested me. Most of the time, anyway. My photography had always been inspired by the myth of the ‘invisible photographer,’ someone who achieved intimacy whilst seemingly being absent from the scene. But the more talking I did, the more clear it became: Invisibility is achieved through acceptance.
When the subject knew I was there, knew I was taking pictures, and accepted it to the point of paying it no mind, I began to make images that had something of the resonance I wanted. More than any gear, any compositional trick or any colour grading techniques, conversation has been my most versatile tool for achieving images where I feel a clarity of human connection.
Of all the joys photography has brought me, these moments of interaction, where I recognize someone’s humanity as they recognize mine, these moments have stood out as something special, something to be sought after.
I’ll end with a story. While eating lunch at an Uzbek restaurant I noticed this man’s gold teeth. Not being able to speak to him directly, I approached the woman running things. I remember her having dark eyeliner. Though neither of us were Korean, we could both speak it (she much better than me). I asked her to introduce me to the man because I ‘loved his face and wanted to take a photo.’ She chuckled and spoke to him in Uzbek. He listened, smiled and nodded. I dropped to my knees to get the lower angle I wanted, and gestured awkwardly that I wanted to see his grill. He smiled, and this is the result:
It’s been a few years now since this portrait, and I still find them to be one of the most challenging aspects of my own photography. Maybe that’s why, when they work, they’re the most rewarding. I hope you get to talk to someone this week. Maybe you’ll even get a photo.
Cheers,
Chris.