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Garry Winogrand

Photographer

Introduction 

It is Los Angeles around 1982. Our man is loitering and walking along the street, small camera bag slung over one shoulder, Leica in hand resting briefly at the side of his ear, as if he can hear it ticking. Attracted by something in front of him he brings the Leica to his eye, clicks the shutter and flicks the camera rapidly away as if flicking a fly from in front of his face. Rechecking the exposure, he moves and repeats the same movements. Sat at a café someone asks this man with the broad New York accent what he’s doing, he shrugs, laughs, affects a broad smile and replies “I’m surviving”. In the USA this seems the most appropriate and suitably non committal answer to ward off further enquiry from a hesitant public perhaps uncomfortable at being photographed by a stranger.  When the day is done our photographer unlocks a door, enters and proceeds to add his days work to a large polythene bag containing roll after roll of labelled film which he then locks in a metal filing cabinet. This is American photographer Garry Winogrand appearing on the American Public Broadcasting Service show Creativity. During the clip Winogrand casually admits that having been in LA for a little under two years he has developed about two thousand rolls and has a further two thousand to go.  Garry Winogrand has intrigued me since I became interested in the art of photography. The purpose of my essay is to explore Winogrand further.   What were his influences and what was his contribution to photography? Why the unusually large output of film and what does his work and prodigious output tells us about Winogrand the man? 

Copyright ⓒ ⁠Image of Garry Winogrand. Used here under fair use for educational and critical purposes. All rights remain with the copyright holder

Born in the Bronx, New York City in 1928 there is little biographical detail of Winogrand’s early years. He lived in a small apartment with his father, Abraham a leather worker and mother, Bertha who made neckties for piecemeal work. It was from this apartment that from an early age of ten or twelve Winogrand formed the habit of walking the streets late into the night. Winogrand told friend Tod Papageorge in taped conversations in  1977 that he walked the streets of the Bronx until late at night, seeking refuge from the apartment where his parents ”did not put a high priority on privacy” and where one could be alone only in the bathroom.  The early wanderings and presumably observations of Winogrand, is where he found privacy and solitude. Here is the earliest clue to the approach he was to adopt for the rest of his life. 

Following High School Winogrand spent eighteen months in the US Air Force before going on  to study at City College New York. Two semesters later in 1948 Winogrand moved to Columbia University New York, enrolling on a General Studies painting class. Here at the age of 20 Winogrand started taking photographs, experimenting with various cameras.  He met George Zimbel a fellow student and photographer for the Columbia Spectator who had 24hr access to the University darkroom and together Zimbel and Winogrand formed the ‘Midnight to Dawn Club’, photographing by day, developing and printing through the night. 

Around this time the previously accepted aesthetic conventions in photography which valued a high standard of technical competency, craftwork and sophistication were beginning to be questioned and challenged. In the 1948 exhibition French Photography Today at The Photo League galleries New York, the curator and photographer Louis Stettner, apologised for what he felt were prints not presented to American standards. More significantly in 1945 and also in New York, Alexey Brodovitch the Art Director of Harpers Bazaar had produced his book Ballet.  Being very much a departure from what had gone before Gerry Badger wrote, the images in Ballet “transgressed every notion of what a good photograph should be“. Influential in championing this kind of photography Brodovitch ran the Design Laboratory giving workshop classes in photography and design. Garry Winogrand attended his photojournalism class in 1949 at the New School of Social Research in NYC. Brodovitch’s ethos and that of other teachers in New York was to encourage their pupils to break the rules, be different, experimental, challenging and put trust in their own judgement. This new style of photography although criticized from various quarters was seized upon by Winogrand who “embraced the medium as passionately as he did because it seemed to answer his agitated sense of himself”.

In 1952 Winogrand was taken on by the Pix Photo Agency in Manhattan where his friend George Zimbel worked. The same year he married a dancer Adrienne Lebow.  In 1954 Winogrand left Pix and joined The Brackman Associates. His pictures began to appear in Sports Illustrated, Pageant, Argosy and Redbook amongst others. In 1955 two of Winogrand’s photos appeared in The Family of Man exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art, New York (MOMA).  Winogrand was introduced to photographer’s representative Henrietta Brackman. Winogrand turned up for his interview with “three or four piles of prints that reached from floor to desktop” Brackman’s diary notes describe  him as “with strong inner drive – his own style and character”. Photographer Dan Weiner also represented by Brackman suggested Winogrand look at Walker Evans book American Photographs when he learnt of Winogrand’s proposed trip, in 1955, around the USA with his wife. It was this book that brought Winogrand to the realisation that photographs could reveal much more than initial surface detail. However the  most significant influence came from Robert Frank who travelled America in 1955 producing three years later the photo book Les Americains. Winogrand admired Frank’s use of the wide angle lens, an approach that Winogrand was to adopt in most of his life’s work. In terms of imagery Frank and Winogrand occupy the same territory. The fundamental difference was that as a Swiss immigrant Frank was an outsider looking in. His images  of America showed “a seedy, grey underbelly, populated by isolated, alienated people” …….”A landscape of desolation that seemed to consist of highway detritus, dingy diners, decrepit automobiles and greasy gas stations”.  An America that perhaps only an outsider could, or dared show and not surprisingly the subject matter was criticised.  Whereas Frank generalised and seems more considered in his approach, Winogrand was more snapshot orientated focusing in on the complexities and subtleties of human communications.  Nevertheless Frank had prepared the ground for Winogrand, the pessimistic insider commenting on his own country. This new style of photography known as “the available light revolution” was being championed by commissioners of photography Alexey Brodovitch of  Harpers Bazaar and Alexander Libermann at Vogue.

It was not until around 1960 that Winogrand considered he first became a serious photographer. Despite having his first solo exhibition at the Image Gallery NYC his marriage was beginning to fail. Separating in 1963 and divorce in 1966, this was a difficult time for Winogrand. Being a secularized Jew his family background was one where divorce was not contemplated. His biggest fear was the thought of having to leave his children Laurie (age 10) and Ethan (age 8).  At times like this there is a need to develop coping strategies. Winogrand chose to immerse himself further into photography, as he told Tod Papageorge “Photography is always out there: it’s a way to get out yourself “.  He turned his attention to photographing women in the street, something he continued for the rest of his life producing Women are Beautiful published in 1975.  Adopting the wide angle lens he often had to close in on his subjects, containing more peripheral detail and not worrying about verticals or horizontals being true in the frame.  There’s an anxiety to the images.  Indeed it was during the Cuban missile crisis of 1962 that Winogrand reached an important realisation in his life. Walking the streets day and night in desperation and fear at the thought of nuclear war,   Winogrand’s underlying pessimism brought him to the conclusion, “At that point. I found I was nothing. I had nothing. I had nothing to say about what would happen to my life. And it was liberating. I was nothing. Which meant that I was free. Which meant “live your life”. 

Copyright ⓒ ⁠Image by Garry Winogrand. Used here under fair use for educational and critical purposes. All rights remain with the copyright holder

While the USA was anxious about its future, the new style of photography found a keen supporter in John Szarkowski, Director of Photography at The Museum of Modern Art.  Szarkowski held a number of influential exhibitions over the next few years and Winogrand was one of Szarkowski’s favoured photographers.   In 1964 Winogrand was awarded a Guggenheim Fellowship to travel through America. His application for the Fellowship reveals Winogrand’s pessimism, “I can only conclude that we have lost ourselves, and that the bomb may finish the job permanently, and it just doesn’t matter, we have not loved life”.  Some of the results of this work were shown in the New Documents exhibition (a joint showing with close friend Lee Friedlander and Diane Arbus), one of three influential exhibitions in the late 60’s.   

If, as Susan Sontag asserts in On Photography that “To collect photographs is to collect the world” then Winogrand made more of an attempt than most but much of Winogrand’s work is sympathetic to Sontag’s other theories. Sontag feels that photography is a way of acquiring, a form of possession allowing the photographer to both participate and alienate.   There is a predatory aspect to Winogrand’s images, essentially seeing his subjects in a way they cannot see themselves and in that sense they are violated. In this respect Winogrand’s photographs of women are the most problematic and provide ammunition for Freudian psychoanalytic theorists and feminist criticism. The criticism being that photography allows women to be looked at and men to possess the gaze. Furthermore, those photographic images which construct women as objects for the pleasure of the male gaze are an exercise of power; the concept of voyeurism and fetishism. Winogrand’s images of women are unsettling, predatory, and slightly aggressive. It’s as if the images are echoing a resentment and frustration that perhaps Winogrand had with his relationship to women at the time of his marriage break-up. As if photographing women was a way of retaliation, control and possession, dealing with his angst and again finding an escape out on the streets.  If subconsciously Winogrand’s work in this area is a means of control and voyeurism, then his persistent evasiveness allowed him to sidestep the criticism and debate?   We have little to work on except the summations of contemporaries and his reported quotes.  In 1970 at the Rochester Institute of Technology he stated to a class “I photograph to find out what something looks like photographed. Basically that’s why I photograph in the simplest language”. There is certainly a work ethic to Winogrand’s immense output, as if he knew of nothing else. As if at times the mere act of going out, and pressing the shutter was enough to satisfy the inner need and anxiety he felt.

 He told his friend Lee Friedlander “If it wasn’t for photography I’d probably be in jail”.  

Winogrand was not the first street photographer. There is a clear link to Americans Robert Frank, Bob Schwalberg, Ed Feingersh and Arthur Fellig (aka Weegee) and Europeans Andre Kertez, Brassai and Henri Cartier-Bresson. Comparing Cartier-Bresson’s influential book  “The Decisive Moment” to the work of Winogrand, Cartier-Bresson almost rigidly stuck to the confines and limitations of the frame, mostly refusing to crop, producing lyrical, poetic and essentially positive life affirming narratives. Winogrand however was frustrated by the confines of the frame and acknowledged that the frame readily changed meaning. He uses a wide angle lens to include as much detail as he could, but still there are things happening outside the frame that we should be aware of. Where we feel Cartier Bresson has an almost welcome and integral presence in the picture, Winogrand is predatory, slightly invasive and voyeuristic. There is a sense that, although being on the street the camera acts as a barrier between him and the public, negating the need for interaction and dialogue. He likes it this way because he is, after all, in his own private world, he can continue snapping away uninterrupted. In this sense Martha Rosler feels that Winogrand is a right wing photographer “who aggressively rejects any responsibility ( culpability) for his images and denies any relation between them and shared public meaning”  Where Cartier Bresson searches out the decisive moment out in the field in a predetermined way Winogrand is far less secure. He can’t decide what the decisive moment is or will be.  The more he shoots the more chance he has of determining what the decisive moment was, at a later date. Some of his images are direct hits and; the decisive moments as Cartier -Bresson would have it are clear and obvious. In other shots the decisive moment is not so obvious; neither is as Barthes theorizes “the punctum”. There is ambiguity and we have to work harder for a deeper understanding of the photographer’s original intentions. Winogrand admitted that he would often try and change the scene by tilting the camera, attempting to define the interpretation that he felt worked best for him. In a sense Winogrand’s work is democratic, the wide angle lens equalizes everything but in a stultifying way. Often there is tension and insecurity shown to best effect in Public Relations. In his Airport series people are waiting or in transit to seemingly uncertain futures, the Airport terminal buildings, arrivals and departure lounges acting as a metaphor for the American dream.  In Winogrand’s The Animals a bored public stare at equally bored animals unable to communicate with each other. All through Winogrand’s work there is this sense of boredom and waiting.  Winogrand steps back as an impartial emotive observer, neither empathising nor criticising.   

In 1969 Winogrand separated from his second wife of two years Judy Teller. He had started teaching and made the decision to give up commercial assignments. He was awarded his second Guggenheim Fellowship to continue exploring media events and their effect on the public.  Between 1969 and 1976 Winogrand shot about 700 rolls of film at public events, producing 6,500 eleven by fourteen inch prints for Tod Papageorge to select for the exhibition and book Public Relations. 

Copyright ⓒ ⁠Image by Garry Winogrand. Used here under fair use for educational and critical purposes. All rights remain with the copyright holder

Between 1971 and 72 Winogrand was teaching at the Institute of Design, and Technology in Chicago. In 1972 he married Eileen Adele Hale before moving in 1973 to the University of Texas in Austin. While in Texas he continued shooting thousands of rolls of film. He received a commission to photograph the Fort Worth Fat Stock Show and Rodeo which he covered from  1974 and 1977 culminating in the book published in 1980. In 1978 Winogrand resigned from the University of Texas and again moved to Los Angeles, taking up his third Guggenheim to document California. Print sales allowed him to rely less on teaching or commercial assignments and more on his own photographic pursuits. Gradually Winogrand could not keep pace with his own output. This was exacerbated by the acquisition in 1982 of an auto wind for his Leica and the thousands of pictures he took from the passenger seat of his car while being driven by his friend Tom Consilvio. However Szarkowski tells us that his last few thousand rolls were failures technically be it either optically, chemically or merely lack of a steady hand. It was as though the mere act of making an exposure, the pressing of the shutter was enough to satisfy the need, the final results being  of much less importance. When in 1983 Winogrand was asked in a German television interview why he photographed, he reiterated the comment he had made to Tod Papageorge, “how do I say it? The way I would put it is that I get totally out of myself. It’s the closest I come to not existing; I think which is the best – which to me is attractive”

On the 1^st February 1984 Winogrand was diagnosed with gall bladder cancer. Attending therapy sessions Winogrand wrote “he had not resolved feelings of regret and fury at the failure of his first marriage” and more tellingly “hopelessness and helplessness about the world”.  Revealed is the internal, melancholic and pessimistic Winogrand in opposition to the public energetic, talkative persona we see in the grainy video clip from 1982. So did Winogrand shoot so prolifically in order to deal with this inner pessimism and anxiety, to keep it at bay? Was there some kind of obsession taking place?  Shelley Kasle, Ph.D. Research Assistant Professor at the University Of Arizona College Of Medicine who gave a talk at the Center for Creative Photography, Tuscon, Arizona (CCP) in 2001 entitled Winogrand: Approaching Obsession; “If one were to interpret Winogrand’s photographic output as obsessive and or compulsive repetitions of an anxiety quelling ritual…. We did not find symptoms of either construction in Winogrand’s work. We only found approach approach approach”  

On March 19^th 1984 Winogrand died at the Garson Clinic, Tijuana New Mexico. When Winogrand died the scale of his output was realised. According to Szarkowski, there was discovered, about 2500 rolls of undeveloped film, 6500 rolls developed but not proofed and contact sheets made from about 3000 rolls. Furthermore discovered processing rolls indicate that while in LA alone he developed 8522 rolls of film. The Garry Winogrand Archive established at the  CCP in 1983,  comprises of “over 20,000 fine and work prints, 20,000 contact sheets, 100,000 negatives and 30,500 35 mm colour slides as well as a small group of Polaroid prints and several amateur motion picture films”

Conclusion 

Not surprisingly this vast legacy presents itself with problems. John Szarkowski describes the frustration of looking through a third of a million images, “trying to make sense of and derive a clear and concise body of work which somehow reflect the photographer’s intentions and ethos”. For CCP the debate in 2001 for the six guest curators chosen to select images for the exhibition, ‘The Garry Winogrand Game of Photography’ was similarly problematic. Should images that Winogrand had not looked at be included in their exhibition?  Would Winogrand have chosen those selected images himself? Was the fact that he did not destroy them, justification enough to show them? Or by showing them does that not in effect re-interpret the artists work in a way not originally intended? Winogrand left a conundrum and the debate will doubtless surface again as his archive continues to be explored. 

What is clear though is that amongst the mountain of work, amongst the mundane, ordinary and some would say “ overrated “ indistinguishable images there are some real gems and Winogrand continues to be an influential photographer.  In terms of photographic history he began when the traditional photographic practise was being challenged. It was the right time and New York the right place to be. In this respect I feel Winogrand was a photographer of his time, when street photography was far less challenged both aesthetically and morally than it is now. Certainly Winogrand is well known for evading discussion over the meaning of his own work, even denying its existence but inevitably there is meaning given to the image by the viewer. Winogrand was at heart pessimistic about the world. If he chose from his contact sheets those images which, as Paul Hill asserts “the specific motifs that can act as vehicles for your inner feelings” and   “In that sense all photographs are to some extent self portraits, whether you directly include yourself or not” then Winogrand’s images are very much autobiographical and in that sense pessimistic, whether he cared to admit it or not.

Bibliography

Books 

Harris Alex, Friedlander Lee (2004) Arrivals and Departures: The Airport Pictures of Garry Winogrand, Germany. Steidl 

Szarkowski John (1988) Winogrand Figments from the Real World, New York The Museum of Modern Art

Papageorge Tod (1977) Garry Winogrand Public Relations. New York The Museum of Modern Art 

Parr Martin & Badger Gerry (2004) The Photobook: A History volume 1, London, Phaidon Press Ltd 

Turner Peter. (1985) American Images – Photography 1945 – 1980. London, Penguin Books. 

Green Jonathan (1984) A Critical History American Photography. New York. Harry N Abrams Inc. 

Dyer Geoff (2005) The Ongoing Moment (2006 Edition) London, Abacus 

Malcolm Janet (1977) Diana & Nikon Essays on Photography Expanded Edition. New York. Aperture.    

Sontag Susan (1977) On Photography London. Penguin 

Barthes Roland (1980) Camera Lucida, London, Vintage 

Hill Paul (1982) Approaching Photography (Second Edition) Lewes. Photographers Institute Press

La Grange Ashley (2005) Basic Critical Theory for Photographers, Oxford, Focal Press

Barrett Terry ( 2006) Criticizing Photographs An Introduction to Undertanding Images ( Fourth Edition). New York Mc Graw Hill 

Wells Liz (2004) Photography: A Critical Introduction (Third Edition)  

Journals / Articles 

Rubinstein Raphael (2002) Snap Judgements: Exploring the Winogrand Archive, Art in America V90 No2 p46 -51 

Grass Jozef (1991) Overrated images? British Journal of Photography v138 p57 

Web Resources 

Courtemanche Jeanne (2001) The Garry Winogrand Game of Photography Two Part Exhibition culled from CCP’s Vast Archive, Garry Winogrand Press Release, http://www.creativephotography.org/information/pressreleases. 

Kuspit Donald (2003) Avedon versus Winogrand, Art New England 24 no2.

McLaren Fiona (2002) Game Over? Garry Winogrand’s Game of Photography, Afterimage; Jan2002, Vol. 29 Issue 4

LINKS

To Learn & See More Visit Andy Greaves

And Follow Him On INSTAGRAM

Read Andy Greaves Interview

To Our Knowledge, ⁠Winogrand’s estate is managed by institutions like the Fraenkel Gallery

The post Gary Winogrand Photographer appeared first on Street Photography.

Every creative leaves a part of themselves in their work, and it can’t be any more true than Chesterfield-based street photographer Andy Greaves. While he doesn’t purposefully go out looking for humour and absurdity in his street photography, it shows subtly in his street snaps, and he simply lets it happen.

“I respond to what’s in front of me,” he muses. “I tend to see things that way. I’ll see a scene and think, ‘Wow look at that, I’ve got to have it.’”

With a life-long passion for photography since he was 18, Greaves even completed an MA in Photography at Leicester De Montfort University in 2009, soon after he retired from full-time employment. Today, he mostly does street and documentary photography at least once or twice a week all-year round, centered around a long-term project documenting his hometown in the United Kingdom.

”If something catches my eye, I find that’s a good enough reason to make a picture. I’m generally looking for scenes which capture the essence of my town and the people that live here. I’m trying to capture what’s going on in society and the country as a whole. I feel that many of the problems in society are played out on the streets.”

Copyright ⓒ Andy Greaves

An acute sense of humour with a dash of eccentricity

“I’ve always had an acute sense of humour and a certain amount of eccentricity. Always been able to see the funny side of things and I still enjoy making people laugh,” he says on where the humour in his work most likely comes from. ”Although not always intentional, I think this comes out in my image making. I don’t believe you can make good images without giving something of yourself and I think my images reflect who I am as a person.”

This affinity for British humour, in which pathos and slapstick often go hand-in-hand, played a big role in his upbringing. He attributes it to the silent films and classic slapstick comedies he grew up with and eventually learned to love. “Laurel and Hardy, the Marx Brothers, Will Hay. As a kid, my dad allowed me to stay up late to watch these films, plus the English classic sitcoms like ‘Til Death Us Do Part, Steptoe and Son, Dad’s Army and the Carry On films. Later I loved the absurd surreal comedy of Monty Python and Spike Milligan.“

While a dash of humour is part of how he sees and documents everyday life, it’s not about making fun of or humiliating people. “On the contrary, I’m trying to capture the everyday madness, absurdity and mundanity in all our lives,” he quips. This perspective, he adds, is encapsulated in a famous Mark Twain quote he placed on his bedside cabinet: “When we remember that we are all mad, mysteries disappear and life stands explained.”

Copyright ⓒ Andy Greaves

Copyright ⓒ Andy Greaves

Telling stories of a world in colour

Many street photographers gravitate towards black and white, for reasons that remain widely discussed. But for Greaves, the aesthetic “immediately anchors images in the past and present a nostalgia viewpoint.” Save, for example, the works of photographers like Daido Moriyama and Anders Petersen, which he described as “graphic and challenging.” This is why he made the conscious decision to go colour when he switched to digital, and never looked back.

“For me, the world is in colour, and that’s the story I’m trying to tell,” he also notes. But with the unpredictable lighting conditions in the UK, he tends to go for bright and punchy colors instead of setting a mood. If the colours clash, he simply takes it as the story he’s telling. “I’m not interested in photographic conventions or making pleasing images for others; I’m interested in telling the story.”

In addition to sticking to color, context is key in his notion of an ideal street photograph. It needs to have meaningful layers that can be dissected and discussed. “It might raise more questions than it answers; why, what, where, when? It might be surreal or absurd, sad or humorous… That’s the magic really, you just don’t know what you’re going to come back with but context is the most important thing to me.”

Copyright ⓒ Andy Greaves

Copyright ⓒ Andy Greaves

Keeping an eye out for absurdity that tickles

“The most challenging aspect is getting close and trying to remain unobtrusive and always trying to capture the essence of something,” Greaves reflects on the hurdles that he often needs to overcome as a street photographer. However, as he frequents the same places over and over, he has also noticed that a lot of people are now getting used to his presence. While it has made things easier, keeping his perspectives fresh and his images more impactful remain a constant challenge.

“Not repeating myself is a constant challenge, as is trying to improve. Like a lot of photographers, I sometimes get challenged so learning to deal with those situations can be challenging at times.”

This pursuit for authenticity and candidness manifests in one of Greaves’ favorite photos, its story giving us a view into the “essence of something” that he strives to capture:

“I have a few favourites but the one I’ve included is a particular favourite from my Chesterfield work. I go to town most Thursdays as that is when it’s busiest. There’s always some interesting characters around and you never quite know what you’re going to get. I tend to like busy in my images. Walking between the market stalls, I came across this scene which I found quite humorous. Three adults looking down at a remote controlled toy which had just tipped over. I took a few shots and this was the best. The absurdity of it just tickles me.”

Copyright ⓒ Andy Greaves

Deal with what you know

With his learning background on photography, it was inevitable for Greaves to have a deeper knowledge and understanding of the works of many iconic and inspiring photographers, and for these to become the foundation of his own. By writing an essay on Garry Winogrand for his MA, he shares, Winogrand’s phenomenal snapshot style became a major influence to his approach.

The equally iconic philosophy of the “decisive moment” also became integral to his practice that he describes as having trained himself to automatically wait for the moment to happen. “It’s become second nature knowing when to press the shutter so I don’t really think about it now. These days, it’s more a question of asking myself if the scene in front of me is saying what I want and feel about the society that we’re living in. The here and now. I have a list in my head of things to look out for so that helps.”

All these elements have coalesced into the backbone of his current worldview and approach to street photography: “Deal with what you know.” This statement from his university tutor, he said, was the best advice he received, and the wisdom he now wishes to impart to his fellow photographers.

“I’m not sure my view is unique but I think you have to consider what makes you tick as a human being and tap into your personality… I think aspects of my personality, upbringing, surroundings and continued life experiences inform my image making, and this is reflected in my work. At least, I hope it is.”

Check out Andy Greaves’ website and follow him on Instagram (@andygreaves_uk) to see more of his humour-steeped street photography.

The post Andy Greaves: Street Photography Steeped in Sense of Humour appeared first on Street Photography.

Born in Germany but living in the beautiful island of Mallorca since 1999, Jens F. Kruse’s street photography journey began the same way as many of ours did. A family member’s camera opens the door to an adventure of self-discovery, creativity, and intuition. And the rest, as they say, is history.

“Photography has accompanied me for a long time: in the 1970s, I secretly borrowed my father’s SLR camera – an Edixa, whose sound and feel I still remember vividly. Those early moments, where I tried to capture the unspectacular in everyday life, awakened something in me that remains to this day.”

Later, through his studies in art and music with a focus on photography, he learned to think conceptually and work in series, and became the foundation that shapes his vision and work. This eventually led to starting a photo blog in 2009. What started out as “very deliberate and conceptual” became “freer, more emotional,” but it still wasn’t intentionally street photography.

Copyright ⓒ Jens F. Kruse

Copyright ⓒ Jens F. Kruse

The “aha” moment

Until his “aha” moment came in 2017 in Stockholm. A man suddenly walked into the frame but he pressed the shutter anyway. “My heart raced; I felt like I had just done something completely new. When I looked at the image later, I realized: I hadn’t captured what was there, but what I felt. From that point on, I dedicated every spare minute to street photography.”

Then, the “aha” moment culminated in something most likely unplanned and unexpected. When it comes to fresh starts, very few photographers take the plunge to do street photography full time the way Kruse did. “After the pandemic, I dared a fresh start in 2020: I sold my business and, at over 60 years-old, committed myself fully to photography. Since then, I’ve been working professionally in urban spaces – it’s become my home,” he shared.

The big jump turned out to be worth it. Since then, his work has won awards at street photography festivals and exhibited internationally. Recently, he has also been invited as a juror and speaker at street photography festivals. Apart from his own photography, Kruse also actively works as the founder of membership-based community SPuM (STREET PHOTOGRAPHY and MORE), a protected space for street photography in the German-speaking world. By intentionally avoiding the noise of social media, the group takes the focus — and pressure — away from chasing perfect images, recognition, or likes. Rather, they consciously develop their personal photographic vision, with Kruse at the helm of conversations, discussions, activities, and projects within the group.

Copyright ⓒ Jens F. Kruse

Copyright ⓒ Jens F. Kruse

Good photography is an emotional decision

Today, Kruse spends his days roaming the streets of Palma de Mallorca and other European cities with a camera in hand, and describes his days as “creative and fulfilling” even if he comes home with nothing remarkable.

“I know every corner, every shadow, every leaf, every trash bin – and yet, new images still emerge. It’s not about spectacular places, but about an open mind…What fascinates me most are the small, fleeting stories of everyday life. I observe what people do, where they go, what they look at – and imagine what they might be thinking or experiencing.”

In capturing these street scenes, his goal has been to tap into the mood and emotions of these everyday moments, with the firm belief that good photography is always an emotional decision. “For me, that means, photograph what attracts you! If a subject moves or intrigues you – go for it. Regardless of whether it’s currently ‘in style’ or fits a trend. Because in the end, you are telling your story – no one else can see or tell it like you can. That’s what makes it valuable.”

He also notes that while the technicalities of photography will help hone your craftsmanship, most truly great images don’t follow rules. Instead, they carry a kind of depth or magic that you can’t see but only feel.

“And that’s what I aim for: feeling. Atmosphere. A moment that doesn’t need to be explained – but felt. Maybe some will shake their heads at that – but for me, it’s the heart of photography.”

Copyright ⓒ Jens F. Kruse

Copyright ⓒ Jens F. Kruse

Making an aesthetic decision that abstracts reality

Speaking of atmosphere, mood, and feeling in the context of street photography, Kruze acknowledges the notion that black and white is the dominant preference, based on the belief that it shows “the soul unfiltered.” But he also reasons that choosing to shoot (or edit) in black and white is already a filter since we see the world in color; thus, for him, it’s more an “aesthetic decision that abstracts reality.”

“In earlier times, of course, it was a technical necessity. But the black and white ‘dogma’ persisted in street photography until the 1960s, when photographers like Joel Meyerowitz, and later William Eggleston or Stephen Shore, began using color consistently as a narrative tool – and opened entirely new visual languages,” he elaborates. But he has also decided on a clear stance when it comes to his own work.

“I want to show the world as it is – and for me, that means showing it in color. Maybe the Mediterranean light on Mallorca also plays a role. The colors here – the blue sky, the warm earth tones of the architecture, the shifting light – shape my perception and naturally flow into my work.

“That doesn’t mean I reject black and white altogether. Sometimes, a monochrome image does work better, especially when contrast or form takes center stage. But for me, that’s the exception.

“Color is more than just visual information. It creates mood and atmosphere. It can be loud or quiet, warm or distant, direct or subtle. In street photography, I use color intentionally to include these layers in my images.”

Copyright ⓒ Jens F. Kruse

Visual clarity over “Decisive Moment”

Every street photographer knows Henri Cartier-Bresson’s “Decisive Moment” by heart, but Kruse offers an alternative view. “What exactly is the decisive moment in public space – amidst all the fleeting, chaotic, unstructured scenes around us?” he asks.

His answer anchors on creating an inner order, or what he interestingly describes as a “visual clarity in the urban mess.” But this, he adds, has an elusive quality that you feel rather than see — a frenetic energy instead of plain visual information.

“That search for energy drives my creativity. I try to create images that go beyond mere documentation. Ideally, they unite my personal presence, photographic know-how, visual language, and storytelling instinct. When all that comes together in a single frame – perhaps that’s my own decisive moment.”

All these perspectives — pursuit for visual clarity, emotional decision-making, and aesthetic choices — eventually became encapsulated in what he considers to be a good street photo: it has to touch his soul.

“It has to strike a chord within me – trigger something beyond just seeing. It doesn’t matter whether the image is minimalist or visually complex. It’s not about formal categories. It may not be “beautiful” in the classical sense, but bold, raw, or flawed. In fact, perfection is often the biggest enemy of a strong image. It feels sterile, neutral – a collection of average criteria: pleasing, but quickly forgotten. Perfection is the opposite of life – and the opposite of art.”

One of his favorite photos out of all he has taken so far is a perfect example. It ticks all the boxes: idea, moment, technique, and intuition. While he admits it doesn’t always happen, chance often plays a role, and sometimes he discovers that everything works later on.

Copyright ⓒ Jens F. Kruse

“This particular photo is one of my personal favorites. It was taken on an August morning in Palma de Mallorca, at the harbor promenade. From across the street, I saw a cruise ship with a smoking chimney – almost like a toy version in the vastness. Joggers and cyclists were using the cool early hours on the shared path. While crossing the street, two-thirds into the motion, I noticed a very specific perspective: the ship appeared to be floating in a giant bathtub, framed by the concrete balustrade. I knew instantly: this is my shot.

“But I had that view from just one spot – right in the middle of a busy main road. I waited through several traffic light phases, let scenes pass, but nothing felt right. Then I saw her: a jogger with a ponytail, coming from the right. I was at the red light. I calculated the shadow she would cast, and knew that if I don’t go now, the moment is gone. So I stepped into traffic – amid honking horns – and had one single shot: click.”

As a final note, Kruse asserts with certainty: “I don’t shoot from the head – I photograph with my entire body, with my story, with my intuition. That’s what makes my work personal and perhaps even distinct. Past and future only exist in the now. I prefer to live in the present, without forgetting yesterday and without fear of what’s to come. That attitude shapes not only my photography, but my entire way of being.”

Visit Jens F. Kruse’s website and follow him on Instagram to see more and stay updated with his street photography.

The post Jens F. Kruse: Street Photography as an Emotional and Aesthetic Decision appeared first on Street Photography.

My first Camera was a Russian Lubitel Medium format Camera. I think it was 6 X 6 format. My Father wouldn’t buy me an Olympus OM1 which was and still is a 35mm Camera. This was way back in the 70’s! He came home with a Manual Medium format Camera & Said, See if you can Take a good picture with the sCamera first! Learn on this one! So I loved the fils & walked out of the house taking pictures in teh streets. I was only about 16 years old & had NO IDEA that a Street Photography Genre existed. Just walked around on the streets. I wish I still had some of the images I took other than one Surviving Portrait on a Black & White Negative. 

Using a medium format camera for Street Photography is unconventional but not unheard of  and it comes with both unique strengths and real limitations. After all, The Oldest surviving Social Documentary photographs shot on the streets, Street Photography , were ALL shot on Massive Medium or Large format cameras. 35mm Did NOT even exist and The Invention of 35mm Film camera, gradually put an end to that, the same as the Digital invasion diminished Film Photography.

In general, Medium format Film Cameras (And Now median format Digital) offer Incredible image quality, High resolution, Great dynamic range and great for large prints, Billboards, Advertising or detailed edits. They Look and feel different & distinct. Medium format feels cinematic and rich especially on Film. It’s a more Deliberate shooting. It Slows you down, which can lead to more thoughtful compositions.

The Are however, Bulky, noticeable and heavy which is not ideal for being discreet or quick Street Photography. 

They are also, in General, More expensive camera bodies & lenses & thus not practical for everyone.

They Cant beat say , iPhones in Speed, Canon or Nikons in AF Speed & definitely demand a KNOW HOW & they are NOT for the faint hearted Street Photographer.

Copyright ⓒ Johnny Mobasher

Copyright ⓒ Johnny Mobasher

Who mostly used them?

Perhaps, Fashion & Portrait photographers. Photographers like Platon, Avedon and Leibovitz who used Medium format Digital Systems for Fashion and portraits. 

The Famous Photographers did use medium format cameras for street photography, Social Documentary & photo journalism though not quite the same Genre but still on the streets. 

Here are a few famous photographers who used “Medium Format Cameras” for street, candid or documentary style photography:  

Vivian Maier, Rolleiflex TLR 6 X 6, Who took intimate Street Portraits & urban life. 

Diane Arbus  with a Rolleiflex who took Candid & posed portraits in public and semi-public spaces though Not classic “Street Photography” in motion, but public-life photography with a medium format.

The Great Mark Cohen with a Mamiya 6, Close-up, flash-heavy, surreal fragments of street life whoo created the very influential & unusual and bold images.

Mary Ellen Mark who Used medium format for environmental portraits and documentary work often shot on the street.

Alec Soth, Uses medium format ( Mamiya 7 or MF digital) for quiet, often candid scenes in public or semi-public space. More documentary than street Photography, but overlaps exist.

The Unique Weegee, whose real name was Arthur Fellig, primarily used a 4×5 Speed Graphic Press camera with a Flash Bulb for his iconic Black and white New York City street photography. Weegee captured dramatic, high-contrast images of crime scenes, nightlife, and everyday life in the city

Medium format has a slower rhythm, so those who used it for “Street Photography” often engage in Street Portraiture, Environmental and Urban scenes ( Not Quite Street Photography ), or Staged Candid Looking moments* — more reflective than reactive.

Bottom line Medium format in street photography is about “intentional, high-quality storytelling”, not fast, reactive moments. Great if you know why you’re using it — not just for gear sake.

& these days, NOTHINg Beats the speed & flexibility of high ends Cell Phones & High End Digital Cameras. 

To see More, Check out Weegee , Vivian Maier & MarK Cohen 

The post Medium Format Street Photography ? ! appeared first on Street Photography.

“GOOD” Street Photography?!

The ‘Good’ Photographs of American Photography by: Michiel van Mens (Amsterdam/Netherlands)

As a photographer trying to grow, I often ask myself:  What makes a photo good?  And more specifically: Is there a logic—a ratio—behind a good photo? In other words, what gives a photograph its strength, and can that knowledge be reproduced? It’s a broad question, much like asking, ‘What makes a painting good?’ But however broad, it’s a valid question. Asking it is already a step toward answering it. In this article, I offer an initial exploration—based on data analysis.

Now, it’s not as though people haven’t tried to define what a “good photo” is. Plenty of essays and articles tackle this very subject. There are countless books—especially photography textbooks—that focus on technique, composition, and light. These writings often offer valuable insights into the craft of photography.

But here’s the twist: In the real world, we constantly come across examples that seem to break all those rules. I’ve seen iconic, world-famous photographs that are completely out of focus, have no formal composition, feature tilted horizons, or awkwardly cropped subjects. And yet—somehow—they work.

So, what is a useful way to identify a “good” photograph?  One of the few photographers who makes a clear statement about this is Nan Goldin. Her definition is disarmingly simple: “A good photo is one you remember.”

“Photographing as a Necessity”, Nan Goldin, page 31 of “The Loving Camera, Ed van der Elsken”, catalogue published on the occasion of the exhibition at the Stedelijk Museum, Amsterdam, 2017.

What’s great about that definition is that it offers a degree of objectivity—and it’s testable. Go to a photo exhibition, take your time looking at every image, then the next day write down which ones you still remember. Now imagine all other visitors did the same. If you gather all those memories, you’d start to see a pattern. According to Goldin’s logic, the photos most often remembered are the good ones. The rest? Maybe not so good.

American Photography

To answer my question ‘what makes a photo good?’, I’ve received unexpected help from the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam (Netherlands). Earlier this year, the museum hosted the exhibition ‘American Photography’ (February 7 to June 9, 2025). The show featured over 200 prints, images, and publications, offering a sweeping visual history of American photography and image culture. Visitors were presented with everything from news and advertising photos to family snapshots, posters, photobooks, album covers, and iconic magazine spreads.

But it wasn’t the exhibition itself that pushed my thinking forward—it was the visitor survey at the end. One of the first questions asked was: “Which photo do you still remember?” That question struck me. It aligns almost perfectly with Nan Goldin’s description of a good photograph: “A good photo is one you remember.”

Some might argue that this survey can’t really tell us which photos are “better”—after all, the exhibition included a wide range of genres, from documentary and fashion to commercial work and vintage printing techniques. How do you compare those apples and oranges?

But is that a fair critique? Genre itself is an organizing tool, not a natural law. And who’s to say that photos from different genres should be interpreted differently? Why wouldn’t a photo of a red mountain in Monument Valley, captioned “This is not a commercial, this is my homeland” by Hulleah Tsinhahjinnie, leave just as strong an impression as Will Counts’ iconic photo of Elizabeth Eckford walking alone toward Little Rock Central High School? And don’t the provocative fashion shoots by Oliviero Toscani (not featured in this show) live just as vividly in our cultural memory as many World Press Photo winners?

Perhaps we should stop trying to decide what’s “good” based on genre, fame, or tradition—and instead, let the hard data speak for itself.

The Dataset

The Rijksmuseum provided a dataset of 900 visitors who completed the exhibition survey. By analyzing their responses, I was able to identify the top 10 most frequently remembered photographs—essentially, the “good” ones, if we follow Nan Goldin’s logic. From there, it becomes possible to compare those standout images and look for patterns they might share.

The dataset itself consists of a single column containing open-ended responses to the question: “Which photo do you still remember?” Participants were free to answer however they liked—no restrictions on language, length, or word choice. There’s no demographic data linked to the responses—we don’t know the respondents’ ages, genders, countries of origin, education levels, or their general interest in photography.

To analyze the data meaningfully, I had to process it further. I added extra columns to the dataset, tagging each response with identifiable characteristics pulled from the original free text.

The difficulty of interpreting the photographer or image from the responses varied widely. A clear description like “Marriage photo of a war veteran (Iraq War)” could be immediately linked to Nina Berman. But something more vague, like “Photo of a woman on a pincushion, and the surrounding images” was far harder to pinpoint. Some responses didn’t mention a photo at all—comments like “More the overall setup of the exhibition,” or “Quite frankly, nothing.” These were categorized under the label “General.”

Others mentioned more than one image, for example: “The dark photo of the Underground Railroad and the old photo of an Indigenous person.” These were tagged with the label “Multiple.” Despite the interpretive challenges, this kind of open-ended data offers a fascinating window into how people engage with photography—what lingers in memory, and why.

Top 10 “Good” Photos

The most frequently remembered photo in the survey was by Nina Berman:  “Marine Wedding” – the wedding day of U.S. Marine Tyler Ziegel and Renee Kline in Metamora, Illinois, October 7, 2006.

Out of the 771 respondents who mentioned a specific photo or photographer, this image was recalled 122 times—about 16% of the total. That’s a striking lead. The second- and third-most remembered images were mentioned only 51 and 41 times, respectively—a significant drop-off, and a strong indicator of just how deeply Berman’s photo resonated with viewers.

Below are The List of The Top 10 ‘good’ photos from the exhibition The American:

The post The ‘Good’ Photographs of American Photography appeared first on Street Photography.

In Part One of this series, we explored the central ethical tensions that complicate contemporary street photography. Part Two examined three prominent ethical frameworks—utilitarian, deontological, and relational—that might help photographers navigate these tensions with greater thoughtfulness. Now, in this final installment, we turn toward a more practical question: where can one begin when trying to build a mindful, ethical street photography practice? This will not be a prescriptive or one-size-fits-all model. Every photographer, every subject, and every street corner exists within its own constellation of context. But what follows can serve as a launching point—a philosophical and practical orientation—for those seeking to engage their craft with greater integrity.

As discussed previously, each ethical framework offers valuable insights, but also notable limitations. Utilitarian reasoning may help us consider outcomes, but it can easily slide into justifying harm in the name of artistic or journalistic value. Deontological ethics urge us to respect individuals’ rights, but can be rigid or impractical on the fly. The relational framework, ultimately, seems to offer the most promise. It invites the photographer to stay attuned to the particularities of each situation—emphasizing empathy, responsiveness, and respect. Yet this approach requires a high degree of self-awareness and reflective maturity. No framework alone will suffice. Even a combination of all three can result in ethical overload or paralysis. Instead, what we must cultivate is something more embodied: a personal photographic practice grounded in ethical integrity.

This means thinking proactively, not just reactively. Don’t ask only, “What should I avoid doing?” Ask instead, “What kind of photographer do I want to be?” Imagine your subject seeing your photo—what do you hope they feel? How would you want to be seen if roles were reversed? These are not abstract moral exercises; they are questions that open relational space and reframe ethics not as restriction but as inspiration. Ethics should not be the force that holds you back from your vision; it should illuminate the path toward it.

Copyright ⓒ Michael Ernest Sweet

Perhaps it’s time to rethink the role of the street photographer. Rather than imagining yourself as a hunter, consider the stance of a steward. You are not taking photographs—you are making them. And with that creative act comes responsibility. You are responsible not only for how your subjects are represented, but for the life of the image itself—how it circulates, how it is interpreted, how it shapes narratives. Your obligation is not merely aesthetic; it is ethical. You must safeguard the dignity of your subjects and the contextual integrity of the photograph. In a time when social media can strip images of nuance and amplify spectacle, your task is not to chase virality but to curate vitality—to participate in a visual culture that honors reality rather than exploits it. This may be more difficult than it sounds.

As an ethical street photographer, you will likely find yourself “making” more than “taking.” You will be less tempted by decontextualized shock and more drawn to narrative depth. You will pause before you post. You will caption with care. You will consider framing not just in the compositional sense, but in the broader sense of cultural meaning. You will resist the instinct to shoot and share reflexively, and instead commit to sharing with intention. You will think about the legacy of your work and not the overnight “likes” count.

In closing, the ethical path in street photography is not a checklist but a commitment—a way of moving through the world with your camera as both witness and participant. It asks you to remain alert to the lives unfolding around you, to see your subjects not as material to be mined, but as people to be met. It does not call for perfection, but for presence and intention. Your photographs may capture fleeting instants, but your practice, at its best, can embody lasting values. Meet your subjects with curiosity. Portray them with care. Release your images with accountability. This is the foundation of a photographic life rooted not only in artistic merit, but in moral depth.

Consider the photographers and bodies of work that have endured—the ones that still speak, still move, still matter. Often, their resonance stems not only from visual brilliance but from a way of seeing that was fundamentally ethical: observant, humane, and attuned to the complexity of real lives. Of course, exceptions exist—compelling art has sometimes emerged from questionable motives, and ethically sound work can be overlooked. But these are the outliers. What endures most often is work that honors both its subjects and its viewers. In the end, cultivating an ethical practice is not a constraint on creativity—it is what gives your images the clarity and gravity to carry meaning well beyond the moment of their making.

To See More of Michael Ernest Sweet, Click On His Gallery 

The post The Ethics of Street Photography – Part 3 appeared first on Street Photography.

As we discussed in Part 1, street photography is fraught with ethical tensions. Should we always ask permission before taking someone’s photograph? Is obtaining consent inherently the “right” thing to do? Do individuals have a right to privacy while in public? And what about the way people—and their candid moments—are ultimately represented or misrepresented in images? Do we, as street photographers, bear responsibility for how our subjects appear? These are important questions, and they only scratch the surface.

In this second part of my three-part series on the ethics of street photography, I explore three ethical frameworks—utilitarian, deontological, and relational—to see how they might guide us toward greater ethical awareness and inform our practice as street photographers.

Utilitarian Ethics: The Greater Good

A utilitarian approach to ethics holds, in its simplest form, that ethical actions are those which maximize happiness or minimize harm. If a photograph has the potential to inspire positive action or educate the public, then the benefits may outweigh the costs—even if consent is not obtained.

Documentary photography, which often overlaps with street photography, frequently operates on this premise. Seeking consent might be impractical or even impossible in certain situations, and doing so could hinder the production of work that serves the public interest. Consider, for instance, images that document poverty, injustice, or public protest—photographs that can galvanize social awareness and political change. From a utilitarian perspective, the value of these images may override the discomfort or lack of consent of individual subjects.

However, this stance is not without problems. Who decides what constitutes the “greater good,” and by what criteria? Utilitarianism also risks treating subjects as means to an end, which can lead to objectification or dehumanization as a result of the inherent abstraction. The photographer’s pursuit of a noble cause can unintentionally override the dignity of the individual.

Deontological Ethics: Rights and Duties

Deontological ethics, by contrast, emphasizes moral rules and duties over consequences. In this view, actions are right or wrong based on principles such as respect for persons and individual rights—not the outcomes they produce. A deontologist might argue that people have an inviolable right to privacy and autonomy, and that these rights must not be breached even for the sake of a greater good.

Copyright ⓒ Sally Davies

This can lead to a strict position: one should always seek consent before taking a photograph, regardless of context. While this approach strongly defends the subject’s rights, it also presents challenges for the genre of candid street photography, which depends on spontaneity and often unfolds in fleeting, unrepeatable moments.

Moreover, what about the rights of the photographer? Artistic freedom and freedom of expression are also important values. Where do these rights intersect—or conflict—with the rights of subjects? And in urgent, documentary contexts, can ethical reflection keep pace with unfolding events? The camera can be a vital witness to history, and sometimes the opportunity to record may vanish in the time it takes to ask permission.

Relational Ethics: Context, Care, and Connection

A third approach, relational ethics, suggests that ethical understanding arises from the nature of relationships rather than from abstract rules or calculations of outcomes. This perspective urges photographers to consider the connection—however brief or even nonverbal—between themselves and their subjects.

In this framework, a kind of tacit consent may emerge through shared space, mutual acknowledgment, or body language, all without necessarily breaking the candid quality of the moment. Think of the work of Vivian Maier, whose photographs often convey a subtle, unspoken intimacy.

Copyright ⓒ Sally Davies

Relational ethics encourages the photographer to remain attentive to vulnerability, empathy, and the potential impact of representation. Yet, this approach also carries risks. The idea of a “felt” connection can be easily imagined or misinterpreted, especially if the photographer is inclined to rationalize their choices. Without rigorous self-awareness, one might invoke “relationship” as a post-hoc justification for ethically dubious decisions.

Because relational ethics operates in shades of grey, it requires a high degree of humility, mindfulness, and ongoing reflection. It resists fixed rules and demands that we stay present to the unique dynamics of each encounter.

Toward an Ethical Practice

Perhaps the path to a more thoughtful and ethical street photography practice involves drawing on different frameworks in different situations. Maybe no single model is sufficient on its own.

As I prepare to conclude this series with a proposal for a more ethically grounded approach to street photography, I’d love to hear from you: How do you navigate these ethical challenges? What informs your practice?

Log on and comment below—let’s keep the conversation going.

Photos Curteosy of Sally Davies , Visit & Follow Sally on Instagram

The post The Ethics of Street Photography – Part 2 appeared first on Street Photography.

Many of us are familiar—whether by name or merely by sight—with Henri Cartier-Bresson’s photograph On the Banks of the Marne, France. In it, a group of mature men and women recline beside the river; in the foreground, one man pours wine as a picnic unfolds. A boat drifts lazily on the Marne in the background. Most viewers would count four adults participating in the scene. I would argue there are five, and possibly even six.

The fifth is the photographer. Not merely an observer, he is, in a sense, a participant—though uninvited. His presence is felt through the frame he composed, yet that presence was unacknowledged at the time, as any explicit consent would have disrupted the spontaneity that defines the image. The sixth guest is us: the viewer. We, too, arrive uninvited, and although our intrusion occurs after the fact, it remains an intrusion nonetheless. This photograph is iconic. But is it ethical? Are these two unseen guests—the photographer and the audience—standing on firm ethical ground?

The moment one begins to discuss street photography, one almost inevitably drifts into the fraught waters of ethics. At its core, street photography is concerned with the candid: a moment unposed, unrehearsed, and unguarded. By its very nature, the candid implies an asymmetry—one party (the photographer) is fully aware of what is unfolding, while the other (the subject) is entirely unaware. Power, in such encounters, rests heavily with the photographer. The subject, no matter how briefly, occupies a position of vulnerability, and perhaps even one of exploitation.

Of course, there is no shortage of posed and consensual images in the world—many of them excellent. But they rarely possess the same visceral immediacy or narrative power that a truly candid photograph offers. We, as the sixth person at the picnic, feel immersed not simply because the image is beautiful, but because the subjects do not acknowledge our gaze. They do not break the fourth wall. They do not ruin our voyeurism. This is the peculiar allure of the unposed—it grants us license to witness without participation.

But how troubling can this really be? After all, Robert Frank, William Klein, Vivian Maier, Garry Winogrand, Diane Arbus—weren’t they all doing the same thing? And haven’t they been rightly celebrated for creating some of the most significant images of the twentieth century? That may be true, but it does not necessarily follow that their methods were ethically sound. Nor does it mean that they themselves considered the ethical implications of their practice. I’ve been photographing candid moments on the street for well over a decade—and only now do I find myself seriously reflecting on the moral dimensions of what I’ve been doing.

Copyright ⓒ Michael Ernest Sweet

It is often argued that public space is just that—public. Isn’t it therefore legal to photograph people in it? In the United States, this is largely correct: photographing individuals in public, without their consent, is generally legal—with a few clear exceptions. In other countries, however, the boundaries differ. France, for instance, may permit the taking of such photographs, but imposes significant restrictions on how they may be used or disseminated. In short, the legal question is jurisdiction-dependent and complicated. But legality is not our concern here. Ethics and legality, though often conflated, are not synonymous.

So, what is ethics? Before we continue, it is worth attempting—however briefly—to frame the concept. Ethics resists simple definition; it is a philosophical construct that quickly becomes opaque. A more practical approach may be to offer a set of associative terms: integrity, responsibility, conscience, fairness, value, principle, honesty, choice, and moral judgment. These words may help you begin to formulate your own ethical framework—one that can guide your approach to photography.

When we weigh these terms seriously, we can begin to interrogate our practice with greater care. Our questions must go beyond what rights we possess as photographers. We must also ask: what responsibilities do we bear? This is the terrain where the most difficult and illuminating dilemmas reside—where public space collides with private moments, where documentary value teeters on the edge of exploitation.

From these broader tensions emerge even more nuanced concerns. Consider, for instance, the dilemma of contextual integrity in the age of global image sharing. A candid photograph may feel ethically sound within the confines of a larger body of work—a considered visual essay or thematic exploration. But what happens when that same image escapes its context, circulates online, and takes on a life of its own? What if the subject, once anonymous, is suddenly identified or ridiculed—or simply turned into a meme?

These are the kinds of questions we will continue to explore in this three-part series on the ethics of street photography. In the next instalment, we’ll examine how different ethical frameworks—utilitarian, deontological, relational—might guide or complicate our decisions as photographers.

Stay tuned!

The post The Ethics of Street Photography – Part 1 appeared first on Street Photography.

A common observation.

Smartphones have made Street Photography incredibly accessible. With a decent camera in everyone’s pocket, it’s easy to snap candid moments in public spaces — which is essentially the core of Street Photography. So people naturally feel like they’re participating in the genre.

But here’s the key difference: “Street Photography isn’t just about taking photos in the Street” It’s about:

– Timing

– Composition

– Storytelling

– Awareness of light, emotion, and context

Many smartphone users take spontaneous or aesthetic photos, but not all are “Intentionally” practicing or studying the craft of Street Photography. So while many *do* Street Photography, few truly develop a unique vision or master the genre.

In short: Accessibility Breeds Volume, but not necessarily depth or Artistry.

The post Is ANYTHING Shot On The Streets, Street Photography!? appeared first on Street Photography.

Smartphones have fundamentally transformed Street Photography, bringing both significant benefits and notable drawbacks.

The helpful aspects are substantial. Smartphones Democratized Street Photography by making it accessible to millions who couldn’t afford dedicated cameras. The convenience factor is enormous – you always have a capable camera in your pocket, ready to capture spontaneous moments that define great Street Photography. 

Modern smartphone cameras produce genuinely impressive image quality, especially in good light, and computational photography features like HDR help handle challenging lighting situations common in urban environments.

Perhaps most importantly, smartphones are inconspicuous. People are so accustomed to seeing phones that photographers can work more naturally without drawing attention or making subjects self-conscious. This invisibility often leads to more authentic, candid moments.

However, there are meaningful limitations. Average Smartphone sensors are physically small, which means they can struggle in low light situations that street photographers often encounter – think subway stations, evening scenes, or shadowy urban spaces. If a Zoom is your preferred type of lens, The digital zoom on most phones produces inferior results compared to optical zoom lenses, limiting compositional flexibility.

The ease of smartphone photography has also led to over-saturation. Social media is flooded with casual street photos, making it harder for truly skilled work to stand out. Some argue this has diluted the artistic value and intentionality that characterised earlier Street Photography.

The reality is nuanced. Many accomplished Street Photographers now use smartphones alongside traditional cameras, choosing the right tool for each situation. The instant sharing capabilities have created new forms of documentary photography and real-time storytelling that weren’t possible before.

Rather than simply helping or damaging the genre, smartphones have evolved Street Photography into something different – more immediate, more accessible, but perhaps requiring even greater skill to create images that rise above the flood of everyday documentation.

At The end, You have to have the eye & instinct of anticipation. Smart Phones don’t give you The Talent but they Do give you speed.

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