Thursday, July 27, 2017

Reactions to a Street Photographer


 Street photography captures people (well, most of the time…) in their natural moment. That means the photographer should not alter the posture, action or behavior of the subject.

There are techniques one learns to achieve the above. How to be inconspicuous, how to predict a scene just about to happen and be ready for that one click, and how to avoid eye contact with the subject. Of course, the camera used is also of importance – a hug, loud and clumsy camera will certainly be noticed by all around. And when one puts a camera in front of his face and points it to a subject, the moment is often interfered with and changed. That is why a favorite camera remains a TLR (Twin Lens Reflex) when one looks down into the viewfinder and subjects do not know a picture is being taken. The TLR was built for film photography, although (for those who can financially afford it) Rolleiflex now makes digital versions of that camera.

Recently I have many wildlife representatives around my house. Deer, peccary (javelin) and cougar (mountain lion) pay daily visits and sometimes allow me to come close enough for “street photography”. I have to admit that I have not seen the cougar up close, and, I really do not want to!
So, I decided to capture the look these animals have when I get close to them with a 1950’s Rolleiflex!

… The deer was first. A young doe was crossing the street when I whistled a few times. She stopped and got curious. I slowly moved closer. When I printed the photo, after enlarging it quite a bit, I noticed the look. It was a curious yet surprised look. There was actually an expression that one can identify with as a human.




Peccary look like wild boar, but they are a different species. They get large in neighborhood where food is easily available for minimal work. They destroy gardens and uproot many plants. They can also attack dogs to protect their young in the spring and summer.
This one was uprooting small tree saplings in my yard. I came close and she gave me that silly look. Then went back to being destructive!



Woman in Paris. I love taking photos of women wearing a beret. I find it nostalgic and am always amazed how personality of a woman can be discovered by the way she tilts, folds, wrinkles or plays with her beret. This woman was in front of the Notre Dame Cathedral and clearly a rebel in her clothing style. She saw me walking around with my Mamiya 645 and guessed that I would take a photo of her. Her reaction? She ignored me with a body language that said “ I am not going to look at you, but if you want a photo, here it is!”



Woman in Morocco. She also knew I was taking photos. Her reaction? She shut her eyes. It always amazes me that people try to “escape” a photographer by shutting their eyes. “If I do not see you, you do not exist”….



Woman in South Africa. She was aware that although I did not have a camera in front of my face, I was still taking photos with that strange looking and old camera. So, she played another evasive role: “I will be subtle in posing for you, without admitting that I know you are taking photos.”


…And so it goes.

July 27, 2017
© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2017



Wednesday, July 26, 2017

Das Volk Dichtet



Indeed, “the people create poetry.”

While walking with my dog next to an impromptu water run-off due to the heavy rains, I saw this piece of concrete that had been painted upon. There would have been nothing attractive about the old stone wall in the background and the slab of concrete. Except that now it was a canvas and a frame.

Someone had given the ordinary moment and environment an extra-terrestrial feel!

… Perhaps the best poems are the ones that do not use words, cadence or rhyme. Perhaps it is the act of transforming the ordinary into the memorable. The terrestrial into another sphere. And the otherwise unattractive what a man walking his dog would bring back home as a great moment.

July 26, 2017

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2017

Friday, July 21, 2017

Anthropomorphism with Street Mops


Years ago, I took a photo of mops in Taipei during my early morning walk. Somehow the impromptu frame appealed to me from a cultural angle, as the texture of the background and the “attitude” of the mops did fit perfectly in the framework of Asian hospitality I cherished for decades. And I was not alone in that impression, as this photo became popular in Taiwan.


A few days ago I came across another street moment, again involving mops. As I saw them leaning on the chain, I smiled. Almost the same mops, but a totally different attitude! But I did not feel the calm I had felt when I clicked my 1969 Nikon F in Taipei – this time it was tenser. These mops seemed either exhausted or worried.




…When I looked at the new photo, I wondered: what I saw in those moments were they the attitudes of the mops or my own mindset?

July 21, 2017

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2017

Wednesday, July 19, 2017

Look Past your Thoughts and you May Drink the Pure Nectar of this Moment – Rumi



I am not a wildlife photographer, but life is all I photograph.

Two mornings ago I sat in my usual spot on the balcony just before sunset, to have my coffee. My dog already had his morning walk and was sleeping under my chair. I had added new nectar water to the humming bird feeder and waited for them to have their breakfast before me.

Soon, I could hear the high rolling pitch of wings and the first humming bird came to drink. It is part of my morning ceremony to watch them enjoy the sugary water and fly back and forth. This morning there were two of them competing for that nectar. Their fast flight and challenging each other for the best water hole was most enjoyable to watch.


I had not taken pictures of them before. After all, they are birds and I have not looked for a story behind their drinking from the feeder. But, given the farandole of aerial dancing these two did, decided to test how my 1970s Nikkor–H 180mm would do in low light and fast moving subjects. I opened the lens to its fullest at 2.8.


After a few clicks, I saw a large bee in my viewfinder. It was flying around the feeder. I knew that the watering hole was too narrow for a bee to get in – it is made for the long and slim beak of the hummingbird. Yet, the bee smelled the sugary nectar and was eager to get its share.


Then something amazing happened. The bee sat on the tail of the hummingbird and waited for it to drink. When the hummingbird flew away, the bee went to the water hole. The process was repeated numerous times. I could not see the bee on the feeder, but guessed that there were some droplets of the nectar that smeared the edge of the hole when the hummingbird retracted its beak from it.


And the bee got its share.

This symbiotic cooperation was unknown to me, but this is a world where I do not venture a lot. It was my 180mm lens that got me closer to see and celebrate.

Unknowingly, I had gone past my thoughts and this observation was my own nectar of discovery.



… I put my camera down, rubbed my dog behind the ears, and watched the first rays of the sun paint the mountain top in orange and gold.

July 19, 2017

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2017

Sunday, June 25, 2017

Summer Heat in Prescott, Arizona


There is a heat wave in the Southwest. At noon, temperatures are around 105 degree Fahrenheit (41 Celsius) in the small cowboy town where I live. So everyone walks their dogs around sunrise and then slow down in the afternoon. The desert is always cool at night so people and dogs come out again under unbelievably vast and starred skies.

Downtown Prescott has tall trees from the past century.  The shade they provide makes the square perfect for concerts or just to bring a folding chair and a book to beat the heat.

So I brought my 1954 Canon rangefinder along to capture a few moments. People, shades and unexpected moments make a street photographer happy. But most of the fun is in the darkroom. I exchanged my enlarger lens for a 1950s Ukrainian camera lens –a 1.5 aperture Jupiter 3. Back in the golden age of B&W photography (1940s), it was common to use Leica 39 mm lenses both on the camera and then on the enlarger. But camera lenses are not plat-field as enlarger lenses are – that means light from the enlarger light will pass through the camera lens unevenly, and edges can be distorted.

But for me, such unpredictable outcomes make the darkroom work even more delightful.

I chose two frames from my trip downtown to describe the day. The first is about a woman and her parrot. She was in deep shade and I used an f4 aperture with 1/125 speed (ASA 100 film). The Jupiter lens on my enlarger made the moment even more fluid with its random exposure. The result is a photo that reflects what I had in mind –a suave moment in the heat of the day. I can almost feel the heat even if the tree gave plenty of shade for comfort. Perhaps it is the "Lemonade" stand that connotes summer best?



The second one is less focused and captures a general mood. I wanted to blur the background and focus on the guitar player. So used a 5.6 aperture and 1/125 shutter speed. In the darkroom the blurring became more pronounced and that is even more pleasing.



… After 50 years of photography, I have not changed my tools or attitude to capturing a moment – it all comes down to intuition and lack of total control. In that sense, I often think about darkroom work with an enlarger that is older than I am, as watercolour painting: the joy of the final product is in letting the colours run and surprise you with forms and ranges you did not anticipate.

June 25, 2017

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2017

Wednesday, June 21, 2017

Unissona

I had not seen butterflies mate. Until this morning when I sat on my balcony to have my first cup of coffee. I saw one butterfly flutter it wings and soon another one landed next to her (I assumed it was her, initiating the nuptial dance.)



So I watched.

Given the diametrically opposed posture, I wondered if they would recognize each other after all was over. Would she have noticed the scar on his forehead? Would he remember her smile?
But perhaps butterflies do not worry about such things.



… Of course, this made me think of some photos I had taken.

Ferrara, Italy. I am quite certain butterflies would not recognize this posture…




Baltimore, Maryland. Nor this one, for sure




Lake Anna, Virginia. My favorite relaxed mood of my dogs next to the lake.




Somewhere in Arizona. How would one explain this to butterflies?




And then, I thought of a photo I took while kayaking on the Chesapeake Bay. From the minuscule butterflies to the enormous war ships.



And I recalled lines from Rumi:
                                           “It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder.”

June 21, 2017

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2017

Friday, June 16, 2017

Anachronism: From China to Europe


The definition of anachronism (derived from the Greek anachronous) is a depiction of running against the grain of time. If for example, an artist paints Julius Caesar holding an iPhone, it would be anachronistic.

I recently saw a scene (or a frame as a photographer sees all around him) which immediately made me think “this is anachronistic”. So I pressed on the shutter of my 1954 Canon L3 rangefinder. In some ways, many think of me as anachronistic—I carry a Smartphone, the frame of my spectacles was made in the 1940s, and I use B&W film in 1950s mechanical cameras.

But I always make the point of clarifying that I use lead-free gasoline in my 11 year old car….

Here is that photo. The Harley Davidson sign is the iPhone that would made a painting of Julius Caesar anachronistic.



… This intrigued me to look into previous photos I had taken. There are quite a few. Here is a sample:

China. When I saw this man, I immediately noticed his earplug.  Was he a monk listening to transcendental music, or secret police? No matter, he was against time.



Austria. This street sign in Vienna could not escape my vision. Anachronous?



Morocco. I saw this broken bottle embedded in the parched desert sand. Did an Italian rosso belong to the time frame of the changing dunes?




Italy. A street mime in Florence. The stones, the toge, and the angel wings connote a moment in history. Yet he was smoking a Marlboro and wearing high-top sneakers.



… Which made me thing: is anachronism a purely literary and artistic notion? Do we ever let the past go? Therefore, is painting Julius Caesar chatting on an iPhone so unreasonable?

June 16, 2017

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2017