A teeter totter finds its
balancing point, a ripple on the water smoothes to a calm surface, and a
photographer discovers his or her eye. "Don't worry about what to
photograph – go on – start taking photos," said our instructor Barbra
Riley.
“Easier said than done,” I thought, looking at the others who already had camera-holding
experience under their belts.
On day one, I didn't know the band of 20 by name,
but we would spend Five Weeks in Florence
taking a photography class at the Santa Reparata International School of Art. By day 35, I knew their intimate passions
through their choice of photographic subject matter, food selections and the
depth of their desire to experience Italy.
To say I was nervous on our
first photo trek through Florence is an understatement. Our group was comprised
of an art history instructor, her daughter, the
photography instructor aka my graduate school cohort, 12 art students from
a Texas university, a couple of poli-sci majors, Jennifer’s husband Joe/Jose (who
I affectionately came to call by both names), and me. I was the oddity, outranking
most of the students in age by many years and coming from California. I had always
wanted to "live" in Europe, had just purchased a digital camera, and
was ready for an adventure.
In the same way I choose a steering wheel cover, wine glasses, chef knives and paint brushes, after selecting
the brand, I make the buying decision by how the item feels in my hand. OK, I
admit it – much of my life is orchestrated around the "touch"
sensation or how I "feel" about something. Case-in-point, I don't
like the feeling/touch of suede, but I did like the imprinted thumb rest on the
body of the Cannon SX30IS. That particular camera was not too big, not too
small and fit my hands perfectly.
It was midmorning on a Tuesday and the city wore haze of what "felt" like floating molecules of translucent parchment. The photography students were prompt on this first day of shooting and stood huddled on steps of the Baptistery, all wearing fresh clothing imbedded with unusual creases from being packed tightly in their suitcases for the cross-Atlantic flight.
Our inaugural itinerary covered only
four square blocks, so if there was a day to get blisters or forget your bottle
of water, sunscreen or hat, this was the day.
Some students already knew each other
and the rest learned at least one new name or formed a quick opinion about
another student that inevitably would change in the coming weeks. I studied their
faces, wondering who would become my confidant, my exploration partner. I noted
their different styles of clothing, and their hair, and the
personality-reflecting accessories they wore. Those clad in bold colors gravitated
to the right side of the steps while the earth tones assembled at the left. Tempted
by the surroundings, the experienced travelers wandered with abandon off the
steps.
"Our” group was a mix of teens, seniors, male, female, tall, short,
large and petite. In common, they all had an official looking camera either in
hand or lassoed around their neck. Jennifer, the tiniest of the bunch, had the
largest camera with the longest zoom lens. If her body was segmented, I would
guess that her equipment was equal in weight to her two arms (hands attached)
and one shoeless foot.
The light and air on that
particular morning had buoyancy you could almost float on. Anxious to capture
my first sight of a man sweeping a restaurant doorway, I held the viewfinder of
my new camera to my eye and in doing so, was self-conscious about not using the
display screen. Much to my surprise, on this, my first real day of
photographing, I saw only black. I had slipped the camera instructions into my carry-on
bag to read on the plane, but got sidetracked watching art movies and foreign
films. Now I was stuck. This was not like a computer keyboard where I could keep
banging on the keys until something happened. "Battery," I thought.
Yes, I had charged the battery, but maybe I put it in wrong.
I remembered
seeing real photographers blow on camera parts, so I slid open the battery
cover, popped the battery out, wiped it with the clean 100% cotton white cowboy
bandana tied to my camera strap, blew on it and reinserted it. With confidence,
I made the same wiping-blowing motions with the memory card.
In our clump of jet-lagged travelers,
I assumed everyone was as self-absorbed as I. Again I lifted my perfectly-hand-fitting
Canon to my eye, but hesitated to take it down as I criticized myself for not
testing the camera in the U.S., then I remembered bringing a pocket sized Canon
that used AA batteries so I rationalized I would not spend the entire trip without
a functioning camera. The overall shameful "feeling" of getting
caught as an imposter photography student generated the same anguish as being
caught faking my ability to read hieroglyphics as my eyes moved from left to right or bragging of
my cooking skills then being nervous about not changing the direction I stirred
while cooking the tiramisu custard on the stove.
The second vision of
blackness through the viewfinder found me doubly embarrassed and frozen in time.
I could neither think nor move when an external chill slid over my body as a shadow
grew on my shoulder. “What now,” I thought. I was already anxious at starting
off my journey as the underdog. The expanding shadow was caused by a tall
camera-savvy girl with dark hair that almost reached her waist.
Without passing
judgment and speaking in a normal tone, Kristin said matter-of-factly, "Your lens cap is on."
After
that I was no longer the underdog, but the welcome recipient of tips and tricks
from the other students.
In the end, we would all be
courted by our personal fascinations. My natural calling was recording the
overlooked or unexpected moments of everyday life and I learned that this focus
actually has a name – Street Photography. As defined by the London Festival of
Photography organization it is “candid photography which captures, explores or
questions contemporary society and the relationships between individuals and
their surroundings."
If you'll be in London during
the month of June and you like photography - you're in for a treat as the works
of more than 2,400 international photographers are on display in the city-wide
London Festival of Photography. The 2012 theme is Inside Out: Reflections on the Public and the Private. The festival
features street, documentary and conceptual photography in 18 exhibitions and
30 satellite events as well as workshops, talks and screenings. There are
digital shows and print shows throughout the city including exhibits in the Museum of London, British
Library, British Museum, and Tate Modern.
All of the photographers will have a photo projected in rotation on a big
screen so if you happen to be in the right place at the right time, you might see
one of my photos. For more information, visit the London Festival of
Photography website www.lfph.org