On street photography

Henri Cartier-Bresson was an inspiring photographer.
He worked in a time of innocence in photography. People were pleased to have their image taken – street photography was new, and to have a photographer point a camera was a taken as a compliment.
Not now.
This weekend I saw an almost Cartier-Bresson moment, three women in black leaving a church, the light was right, and the image frame almost good. OK, there was no real ‘moment of decision’, nothing extra-ordinary was about to happen, but I did the best I could capturing the street scene in front of me.
Next minute a big burly Greek was in my face asking what I was doing. I think he knew I was taking photographs, what he wanted to know was why. People today are so suspicious, so untrusting.
The worst subjects today are workers. Cartier-Bresson recorded wonderful images of French factory workers, artesians, and tradesmen. Their modern day counterparts shy from camera. They believe they are being set up by cameras to ridicule, exploit or threaten their incomes. I tried to take a photograph of a telephone linesman; within minutes a union representative drove up and asked me what I thought I was doing. It wasn’t a question asked without threat.
I have tried photographing sweepers, painters , couriers, construction workers even school crossing monitors, all treating me with the same mistrust as the phone worker, and skepticism that I was just an amateur hobbyist interested in their work.
Today I can’t take easily take photographs of kids playing in the street, without being threatened by parents or passers-by, I can’t photograph drinkers in a pub without fear of reprisal for interfering with their privacy. Too many people want anonymity in their faceless street work or guarantees of payment or fame in return for them allow me to capture an image of their presence in the street.
The friendliest, most generous people in the street are buskers, the homeless, or those who are used to be stared at because they have some disability. Often they are willing to work with me to help me get a unique image, and they want nothing in return, other than my brief interest in their lives.

Through a dirty window, darkly

Midday on a wet day in Sydney, nearly the winter solstice . Looking south from Broadway.

Winter chill

Its so cold and grey today. nearly the winter solstice.
The temperature brings a time of sneezes and sniffles, of dry skin and heavy electricity bills.
Last night I put flannalette sheets on the bed, brought out an extra blanket and dusted off the winter weight doona.
Before going to bed I had a hot curry and a glass of rum, but I was still shivering. So I did some exercises under the blankets to try to generate some warmth.
Its what people used to call a three dog night. Spare a thought for those sleeping rough, without shelter.
Poor public servants, down in our capital - Canberra - have none of the luxuries like cardboard box sheets to keep them warm in their boarding houses and communal dormitories.