The Online Photographer

A good reason to prefer a camera of a certain size is how ordinary people respond to it. If you want to be surreptitious and blend in, a small, modest camera that doesn't look like much is best. If you want to look impressive and imposing, like you're official, or allowed to be where you are, like you know what you're doing and don't care who else knows it, a big, expensive, late model camera is best.

The reason I like small cameras is that I'm shy and people don't react well to me when I'm taking candid pictures in public. I assume something of my anxiousness transmits to their spidey-senses and puts them off. I've been with shooters who are the opposite. It's a gift that some photographers don't even know is a gift. I'm on the big side, and male, and I must almost radiate my sense of discomfort when I'm trying to sneak a stranger's picture. Notice that word "sneak"? Bad attitude!

Goes for noise, too. My quiet Leica M6 (1984) was better than my loud Nikon N8008 (1988). The Pentax LX (1980) was a near perfect camera, except for the loud metallic SNAP! of the shutter. That's not so much an issue now, with digital cameras that have electronic shutters. They're either dead silent or very close to it.

When point-and-shoots came along in the 1980s, I photographed with one once and was amazed that people simply ignored me. Same with toy cameras. It was freeing. With big, imposing cameras it's been the opposite—I've had some almost preternaturally weird experiences with big cameras drawing attention, sometimes in situations where they just shouldn't have.

Here are a few of those instances:

—>I was trying out a Fujifilm "Texas Leica" 6x9cm once and I wanted to make a few test shots, so I went to the balcony of my fourth floor loft and pointed it into the cityscape. A hundred feet away and two stories lower down, a construction worker immediately stopped what he was doing and stared right at me. What?

—>Working with a big Mamiya once, not even that close to a big road with not much traffic, the occupants of three cars passing only a few minutes apart honked and yelled at me just to hassle me. Really? Mind yer own business!

—>While driving once, at about 40 MPH or thereabouts, I held the camera at the bottom of the driver's side window and made a few blind snaps of some motorcycles a couple of lanes over. When I looked at the files, one of the riders was staring right at the camera. Dude, you need to keep your eye on the road even more than I do.

—>When the shift changed and they got off work, the bike messengers who worked days in D.C.—lots of them—used to congregate at DuPont Circle to laze around and socialize. I figured I'd do some shooting with whatever big medium-format camera I was writing about at the time. Wrong! As soon as I walked over, a rider, a female, got up from where she was laying on the ground and came striding over to me, spewing invective in a loud voice. She got right in my face, shouting the whole time. I backed down, of course, because I'm me. Apparently it was far from the first time she had done something similar—as I was retreating, one of the other messengers said to me, sympathetically, "We're all aggressive. We have to be. But she's the most aggressive of us all!"  

Big being bad was even true when I had full cooperation from my subjects. When I taught at a girls' high school, I did a few dozen student portraits, and I noticed that a great big lens with a huge outer element intimidated some of the kids and made them feel uncomfortable, whereas a small lens with a modest outer element didn't. One girl said she felt "stared at" when I used the big lens. She looked at it with a subtly different expression.

That brings up the observer effect. "In physics, the observer effect is the disturbance of an observed system by the act of observation. This is often the result of utilizing instruments that, by necessity, alter the state of what they measure in some manner." The camera being the instrument and the reaction of the subject being the "disturbance of the observed system."

A story about Cartier-Bresson—I forget where this came from, now—was that he had a skillful way of carrying his camera covered with a handkerchief. He would set the controls by feel, and bring the camera to his eye and shoot so swiftly and smoothly that people often didn't notice it, quickly returning it to its hidden resting position. He would not have been served well by a larger, more imposing camera. Daido Moriyama of course famously uses little point-and-shoots. Helen Levitt had a right-angle lens attachment so she could photograph street scenes surreptitiously. In his subway photographs (a series that I admit never seemed like much to me), Walker Evans rigged up a way to hide his camera under his coat and trigger the shutter without moving. The famous Leica photograph of Leon Trotsky was taken by Robert Capa (on his very first assignment) with a tiny Barnack camera he smuggled into the lecture hall, against the rules, under his coat.

Generally it's sort of inherently traumatizing to me to go up to strangers and take their pictures without permission, and I think this is always in the back of my mind when I'm thinking about buying any particular camera. I've historically had a preference for cameras that don't look serious, that blend in, that don't call attention to themselves. Of course, my problem is probably as much my attitude as it is anything about the equipment. Some people radiate friendliness or confidence and can go right up to anyone. Others, more brazen, don't care if they make people uncomfortable. (I don't like those types as well.) But still.

Big is bold
The reason to have a big, expensive camera is when when you want the camera to be part of your bonafides. If you're doing pictures for hire for the public, such as family portraits for instance, it's embarrassing to arrive with a camera that's worse than the one your amateur client owns. A big, imposing camera says things about you—for one, that you're a serious photographer who's worth whatever you're being paid. And if it's more expensive than an ordinary amateur would buy, so much the better. It makes what you're doing—and, by extension, you—seem like you know your stuff and are well equipped for it. It might even impart confidence.

The camera I have now breaks this small/big paradigm. It's the smallest FF camera extant, but not the way I have it configured. Set up the way I have it set up, it has the gestalt of an old medium-format film camera. Although perfectly silent (it only has electronic shutter), it's not small. Oddly, though, I find people don't pay much attention to it. I suspect it's so oddly shaped that they don't quite know what it is. Plus, it's got such a giant viewfinder that I can quickly invite strangers to look at one of my pictures! They're impressed. Another advantage is that I'm older now, and old people are more readily assumed to be harmless.

We're still in a honeymoon period with smartphones, because a lot of people still don't take them seriously as cameras, a legacy from the time not long ago when...well, when they weren't very good cameras. That will probably change, eventually. I read an account once of the era around 1880 or 1890. The photographer had a hand-held camera, and was delighted to discover that people ignored it, because people at that time were conditioned to think of cameras as things that were always used on tripods. Eventually they got used to the fact that cameras are handheld.

After a lot of time passed the opposite might have become true: my mentor Steve Szabo was out photographing with his view camera on a tripod in broad daylight once. When he came out from under the dark cloth, he found a man standing behind him waiting patiently for him to appear. Steve said, "I bet you want to know what I'm doing," and the man said, "I already know. You were surveying, that's what you were doing."

By the way, the Texas Leica story reminds me of another tip: if you want to make yourself invisible in a public place with a lot of people around, just pick a spot and stand there for a while. Hold your camera about chest level. People will check you out at first, but after a few minutes they'll see nothing's happening and they'll start to ignore you. Even passersby seem inclined to ignore you if other people in the area aren't checking you out. Then you can raise the camera and take a picture from time to time and most people won't seem to notice. Try it.

Albert Smith reminded me of all this with something he said two days ago, so, thanks, Albert.

Mike

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Featured Comments from:

Lynn: "This resonates with my experience. I found street photography easier with digital point-and-shoots like the Nikon 1 and Panasonic LX-3 (and before that the Fuji F10); and the wonderful Olympus XA, XA4 and Rollei 35S with film, zone focused. The almost-silent and small Barnack Leicas (mine's a IIIc) is almost as good, maybe because it doesn't look like most people's expectation of what a camera looks like.

"Using a Canon 5D and 24–105mm was an entirely difference experience, and very difficult to manage discreetly with that large front element. I found the least intrusive solution was to hold the camera somewhere between waist and chest height and frame by guesswork—not that difficult with a bit of practice. But it still drew attention (and often a wary look), which changes the photograph.

"I've tried street photography with a TLR (Yashica Mat 124G) and classic folders (Bessa II 6x9 and Voiglander Perkeo II 6x6) and found these draw curious looks but none of the wariness that accompanies the 5D. Sometimes people stop to ask about the old cameras, and are surprised to learn you can still buy film. I've had some nice conversations when using these vintage cameras.

"You've mentioned age but don't forget gender: in my observation women of any age taking pictures of people in public places are universally deemed harmless and quickly ignored. I've seen a woman on a crowded beach walking up close to take pictures of other people's children with a DSLR and a large zoom lens and no-one bats an eyelid. Try that if you're male and be prepared for an entirely different reaction.

"Come to think of it I'm surprised there aren't more well known women street photographers. How many more Vivian Maiers are out there waiting to be discovered?"

Derek: "I've noticed that when I have some of my Fuji bodies (X100 especially, X-Pro 2 even with the 56mm ƒ/1.2 mounted on) it feels like people around me tend to express hints they're open to me photographing them."

Bob G.: "I understand the ability to photograph easily with confidence can be difficult. As an art director/designer most of my life, I’ve had to hire and organize photo shoots of various types. These were tightly controlled and scheduled events, as the meter was running for not only the photographer(s), but their assistants, makeup and grip personnel, etc. Everything had to fall into place and wrap with the conceived idea hopefully achieved. I would avoid manually handling anything with the cameras, only directing what I needed.

"In general, I was also respectfully intimidated when shooting others by myself, but later remedied this by imagining that the scenes with people were photo shoots and all hired to do their part for me. That built confidence, sometimes even enabling me to 'direct' people walking by. The trick is to compliment them. Another technique is to shoot reflections of them in windows. 'Standing with the camera' is also good—anything to lessen the perceived tension that leads to 'fight or flight.' The mindset should not be 'taking their picture,' but you’re 'making your photograph.' This obviously pertains to permissibly legal situations.

"As to camera size, yes, with a smaller camera, one is more of a 'tourist' amateur. But in general, people are more negatively sensitive now, at least with phone cameras, with all the photos being able to be broadcast on the web easily."

Ernest Zarate: "As you brought up a couple good tips for photographing strangers (I have long used both a low-key, unobtrusive approach, and staying in one place long enough to blend into the background), I’ll toss in another one I have found valuable.

"When I was photographing people out and about, when I lowered my camera, I never looked at the people I’d just photographed. Rather, I looked past them, as if I was photographing something beyond them. I would even have a slightly annoyed look on my face, as if they were in the way of what I was photographing. I might even move around slightly, take a step to the right and/or left, looking past the people, as if I was trying to find the 'just right' spot. This would allow me to grab a couple more shots without incurring any wrath. I could, and often did, add some other elements of play acting into it as well.

"I knew I had done a good job of selling my act if the people I’d photographed turned around to look behind them to see what I was looking at. That happened nearly every time. It wasn’t necessary to convince them; I just had to create enough doubt that they were not sure what was going on."

David Raboin: "A few thoughts on people noticing cameras from a shy street photographer.

"When I shoot with my Ricoh GR III, people mostly don't notice me, but if they do, they don't take me seriously, they pity me for shooting with what they think is an ancient point-and-shoot. With my Ricoh, I could shoot a person in the middle of Fifth Avenue and no one would care.

"I also do street photography with my Canon R6 and large zooms. I've found that the general public hasn't figured out mirrorless cameras yet. Most people think you need to look through the viewfinder to take a picture. I use the LCD and back button focus set to face detect. As long as the camera isn't up in my face, people don't realize that I'm snapping pictures.

"One more thought on street photography: some cities are easier for street photos than others. I travel the US endlessly, and I've found that street photography is easiest in Manhattan NYC. The streets there are so busy thay nobody has time to care about a guy with a camera. The same goes for busy tourist areas like Santa Monica Pier or Pike Market. A photographer can hide in a crowd, especially if the crowd is mostly confused tourists. The most difficult places for street photography are quieter medium sized cities. Put me in a place like Kansas City or Fort Worth and I have a hard time taking street photos with a lens shorter than 85mm."

Mike replies: One of my major shooting revelations was when I shot for six or eight months on the streets of DC with an Exakta 66, a medium-format camera with a waist-level finder. As you say about mirrorless, I suspect people mostly assumed that I was "in between" shots and adjusting the camera when I had the camera down low and was looking down into it. It didn't trigger that "I'm being looked at" feeling for them; they ignored it. I've always thought there should be a digital camera with a true waist-level finder, one that could have a proper light-blocking hood. Flip-up screens work pretty well as a substitute, and the image not being reversed is a big bonus.

Mark Sampson: "The early 'street' photographers, Kertesz, Cartier-Bresson, et al., had a great advantage. In their world, their subjects were not used to candid photographs being made 'off the cuff.' Photographs were rare, formal events like weddings and family portraits. Even Brownie snapshots were carefully composed and a bit of an event. So people didn't consider that photographs would, or could,be taken candidly, or in low light, or casually; thus freeing up the photographers to capture the 'decisive moment.' This advantage has been steadily evaporating since more or less World War II, and is now almost completely gone. Thus making the work of 'street' photographers today that much more difficult."

Mike replies: Not only that, but Helen Levitt has a lot to say (where, I can't recall) about the difference a few decades made in life on the street. I wish I knew the reference so I could share it; she talked about how life used to take place on the streets in the '30s and '40s, and there was always lots going on, whereas by the '60s and '70s the streets were comparatively dead and all the people had gone elsewhere. I'm paraphrasing, obviously.

Charlie Dunton: "Lots of stuff I agree with. I too am an introvert, though not shy. I just like to think things through before speaking. I've always used a large camera since going digital, always with a battery grip and usually a 24–105mm L lens. I'm currently shooting that way with a Canon R5.

"As you mentioned, I like large, expensive cameras because they help with the 'I'm a pro and paid to be here' attitude. I'm never pushy, but don't shy away or try to hide what I'm doing. I find honesty helps. I did notice something interesting on a recent trip to Disney World. We usually see at least one parade in Magic Kingdom, and I usually shoot it with my iPhone, typically just pictures for me. This last time I used the big R5. I found that anything bigger than a cell phone was instantly recognized by the people on the floats. So I got a nice smile and a wave from Anna and Elsa, also from Cinderella and Prince Charming, a nice smile from Tiana, but Tinker Belle turned and looked directly at me with a pout that would make a three-year-old proud. You have to be careful photographing anyone holding a wand!

"But the ones to watch out for are those walking behind. I had one woman walk briskly toward me with a big pucker on her lips. She approached so quickly that the action-following autofocus on the R5, as good as it is, couldn't keep up. I ended up with six badly unfocused images. The last one may have actually been inside the minimum focus distance for the lens. On the other hand, I recently spent 15 minutes talking to a beautiful woman at a Blackbeard Pirate Festival. Just as we were finishing our conversation, I asked her if I could take her picture, and she said certainly. I later found out she was a professional model which explains the strikingly gorgeous pose she gave me.

"Be honest, be polite, and show an interest in people, and it will go a long way."

Bill Tyler: "One of my favorite photos made on the street was the result of having a 4x5 Crown Graphic set up on a tripod. A little girl, accompanied by her parents, was fascinated, and asked if I would take their picture. It's posed, not candid, but the people and their happiness radiate from the image. I won't share it because I have no idea who they are, and don't want to invade their privacy even now, decades later. But it was having the big, complicated-looking camera that was the stimulus for the image."

Mike replies: I don't get not showing it, but okay.

John Camp: "This is a comment about your (Mike's) comment about Helen Levitt and the changes over a few decades. The change didn't actually happen in a few decades, it happened in a few years—the arrival of television. I'm old enough to remember it. After World War II, on my street in a veterans neighborhood—my father had been in the Army in Europe—there was always a lot going on. Neighborhood parties, weekly new movie premieres, many, many people belonged to fraternal organizations (Elks, Moose, Masons, Eagles, Lions, VFW, American Legion, Knights of Columbus, Odd Fellows and Rebeccas, etc.) There were all kinds of in-person clubs, too, for model airplanes, stamp collectors, photography, ballroom dancing and so on. Church-going was big. Sometime in the early fifties, TV arrived in mass numbers, and the street life literally disappeared overnight. No more neighborhood parties. No more clubs. I lived through that transition and it was stark. And, in my opinion, a shame. We exchanged a social world for bullshit."