November 18, 2019

Street Photography A Stream of Consciousness

We look for the open expression, the subject allowing their inner feelings to project outward into a reality unconquered. The photographer welcomes this openness of thoughts and moves ever closer to the subject by positioning himself where their will be no details that will distract the photographic eye from the facial expressions of the subject, his clothes, her hair, their originality. 

A good photographer can have one subject and in the time it takes to create an image the subject could express a litany of expressions from happiness, anger, loss, guilt, resignation to a bad situation, tears the full gambit of emotions that expresses the inner/outer universe of our human lives. All these will be expressed and felt in a photograph. A click of the shutter, time passing onward, oh illusive time, but in the photograph taken time is frozen still, in their eyes the meaningful and elusive, a split second, the shutter captures a moment, in war, in a wedding, a friendship, happiness, guilt, anguish, handicapped, hateful, all the emotions of humanity captured in a millisecond and put into a frame, with that unique moment created as time moved on but not in the still image that is now present, jarred loose from the passing seconds, forever stagnant but with purpose yanked from its moorings and now stands free, alone just like the subject in their anguish and this stream of consciousness isolated, separated now forever from the persons physical presence, separated by the click of a shutter, a moment taken, irreversible taken from the subjects fluidity in physical space, this person’s time line abruptly stopped in that split second of seeing a possible composition by the photographer and then the subjects time begins again outside the frame as they move on and leave nothing of themselves only the impression on a digital file separated from their physical source, prior to the feeling expressed and taken from the person by the photographer now without the ability to change their frozen expression, this photographic reality, this image, is possible because of the infinite time we have to make images without a structured necessity, only our own rules of composition and exposure making it more a cutting away, like an artists sculpture, catching something from the person, her inner personality, more anger bottled up an extension of the person’s personality becoming her exterior unknown to her now until she sees herself through the photographers lens and realizes this is not her, it is someone else without a foundation of times motion in completing her expression instead this expression was in flux when the photographer broke through times unity, seeing into the photograph through her exterior emotions and in her facial expressions unclear, broken away from the next moment settling for an irrational revelation, something of her personality more unique, taken and this separation is an abstraction from her outer facade and is not representative of her internal self hidden under an accumulation of narratives tried on like used clothes and now caught in this moment an idyllic self acting a role for someone else’s entertainment looking back years from now at a picture taken without knowing the ending, a mystery puzzle now forgotten, it is what it is without change, a still life exposed to random views without a connection, alone in self without speech, without an explanation, a dutiful personality compromised and forever alone maybe in an album or in someones wallet, the perceiver and the perceived unified through technology and not seeing the ramifications of a new awareness in random exposures, a new feeling of capturing someone else’s moment without permission a new street revelation, a motion of the camera coming up to an eye moving on the street moving with the crowd or against the crowd an observer, a truth seeker, his purpose never planned always ready in anticipation, the old way, the random objects reflected in glass in front of the mannequin, the truth of the photograph doesn’t lie, it reports the details and leaves the impression of the scene for others to observe and feel their disconnection or connection with the subject, the independent scene a contrast of thoughts in characters acting their roles in physical space, without favor, without forethought, just now in the present, quickly push the shutter now! now! an objective vision trying to unmask the facade of faces as objects once hidden trying to turn away, we hide behind inner rage to get a glimpse of these special moments, under currents, under the skin glimpses of another character wanting to come out but forfeits the freedom of their expression, their purpose, something gritty and bleak with tears and in a reality that is truth without clothes, without a mask of happy spirits bubbling away supposedly ecstatic while underneath an impulse ready to act out in a street performance of violence, look at me I am alive but dead in your camera, once the image taken I no longer exist, do you understand this, I am in a new spacial dimension without escape my purpose now is to be observed by multiple eyes seeking my thoughts in a purpose never exposed I have no voice in the theater of a still life, the image maker always with his intuitive antenna up looking for that moment that begins and ends with the image taken and the subject forever reborn and placed in a photo album or book for the dead in heart will inherit this menagerie of sinful natures, for the truth of our existence is this, we are inner beings with an outer shell, purposely disguised as someone else that hides their emotions from the prying thoughtful eyes of others, the camera always ready to expose an inner truth through outer materialization, the photographer takes from the street an image, the subjects likeness and applies this dubious foundation to ascertain the realness of the expression or the middle finger being presented in front of the violent facial features an anonymous photograph behind the persons dramatic features and an image is still-life enhancing ones selective ambition to inside the moving target, feeling their inner vibes unknown unexpected the photographer grasps a scene beginning to develop not with tricks but patience a subtle plausible reasoning of our being aware of ones surroundings, knowing the alleyways, the corners to go through or stay hidden in doorways waiting for that inkling of personality that will pass, always seeking an uncomfortable representation of yourself in others but only their outer shell that gives a simple clue to their nature and how we should respond in apathy, without emotion at our first encounter, a test of the other’s performance, now we must listen to the frivolous sounds of a camera clicking away at everything and anyone seeking to unmasked them and we find in the infinite void of our dual reality an emptiness in the photograph even though presented with a knowing power, a godlike power to take from spacial sequencing an absence of expression, an appearance coming to life with deliberate agonizing features, yelling obscenities, knowing that the camera demands truth in a suggestive cloak as one parades in circles down a busy sidewalk that expresses and commands something within, an inner journey maybe saved, as the people separate and give space to a spectacle of someone else’s truth, all is blank until details show in the scene a possibility of composition waiting for the right appearance, one seeks their hidden persona, the detail that illuminates the inner vibes you feel that this is a truth worth investigating to follow your instinct with emotion of details forging a possibility in the mind of the photographer their physical presence exploited as high art but not in an excessive selfish ego’s brute force but as a person who roams the streets looking to repeat a play for anyone moving in currents of deceptions, he chooses compositions through intuition, he never takes his eyes off the faces reflected in dirty windows always perceiving his visibility and exploiting the deceptive convergence of details excited to play their part, the betrayal of someones surface gleam for once in awhile one clicks the shutter at that moment when the pedestrian is himself and we can apprehend through the image made a depth of expression that exists through the photographers mind, who never once looked outside himself for inspiration and visual content worthy of his interest, his perception entirely his, externalized.