I interpret and record the world the way I see it through my secret spy camera

I quickly learned in France that not only do the French not want their picture taken while out in public spaces, they will summon the police to fine me and take my camera for said egregious behavior. The French have what’s known as a a right to the image, ‘law’, meaning the person I just photographed has a right to what I do with that image. They are the ultimate deciders. They get downright aggressive about any camera pointed in their direction. In an attacking pit bull kind of voice they will charge me:

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing??? Show me that you’ve deleted that photo right now or I‘m calling the cops! Go home you obnoxious American!”

The harassment doesn’t stop there. They’ll shout at me as I try to disappear.

But I devised a work around that I have used ever since. Now they never see me coming. I carry a Canon camera converted to shooting only digital infrared. My lens is a wide angle 14 mm lens. It records almost as wide an angle as your eyes see. It’s not a distorted fish eye, but it’s close. It captures everything.

I carry my camera attached to a strap around my neck. But, I hold the camera through a wrist strap at my waist with my index finger on the shutter button. As I walk along, I disguise myself as a friendly tourist while actually being an undercover James Bond agent just shooting from my hip. So clever, no?

Holding my camera down at my waist, I click the shutter while walking toward my prey. Oops, I mean them. You know, people. Or, sometimes I’m sitting on a park bench with my camera resting on my knee, lens innocently pointed toward them, finger always on the trigger. I can photograph people sitting right next to me without their being aware of my presence at all. It gives me the photos I want that I could never get any other way.

It’s similar to hunting in the woods, but I don’t mention that to anyone, including you, as it sounds a little predatory.

On the move, I see potential images that register deep in my brain usually before I am aware that what I am seeing brings up a feeling for me. I record it.

I only photograph people. I’m looking for an expression that identifies what they are thinking. I’m looking for that bare, honest second when their facade is down and they reveal who they are at that moment.

Click!

People think they are not seen in public. Honestly, they really do. They think they are anonymous from the rest of the surrounding people. During those moments there is no polite public facade. In their mind, they are out on Church Street, unobserved, just being themselves. Basically invisible. That’s what attracts me to them. I see what most people do not. Often I see what they don’t want seen.

Here is a photo I took yesterday, unaltered, straight out of my camera:

This is how I interpreted what I felt when I saw this family standing there:

In front of them, twenty feet away, around sixty people were watching a circus act on Church St. The actor was funny. He was actually very good. The crowd loved him. People were laughing and clapping. Above is the reaction of this family to this event. This is an insular contained family. I was raised in a family just like this which is why I instantly knew what I was looking at.

This is the forgotten memory it triggered:

My father set up his tripod and captured this Christmas morning memory of me with my first camera and my sister with her new purse and stuffed kitten. My mother got put on her best outfit for this photograph as did my father. They dressed for the camera as there was no one else around - ever.

Christmas joy is not in this frame. It’s not in any frame of my family.

The look of the little girl yesterday brought it all back. The confinement. The rigidity of our family. The lack of emotion. Sterile.

I walked by another group of teenagers and high school came back as I clicked and walked by. Here is the original image from my camera:

This is what my mind saw in that second:

In high school I desperately wanted to be the girl on the left but her whole demeanor was foreign to me, the equivalent of being fluent in Swahili. I was never going to be that girl.

She’s confident - at least in my mind - secure in her position among her friends and classmates. The clothes are ‘right’. A mild sexy look without saying come on over. She’s middle, upper middle class. Parents are educated. She is loved at home. Her parents are shepherding her toward a good college and a good life.

Yes, I am completely aware that this is strictly my interpretation. For all I know her parents lock her in a chicken coop at night and feed her cat food for dinner. Of course I don’t know anything about her. Of course I’m interpreting what I see my way. I want to say, ‘So what? Big deal!’ My interpretation is what makes being a photographer so delicious to me.

The middle girl in this photograph looks insecure to me. She’s trying too hard to be liked, popular, to fit in. She’s willing to give it away to be accepted.

I, on the other hand, was like the girl on the right. I kept missing the ‘correct’ message. Yes, she has on jean shorts but they are just so wrong. They’re not fitted and they come up too high. Just so wrong. No style to her hair. It’s just hair. Do you hear the in-girls saying ‘Well, that’s the best you can do?’ She’s there to make the popular girls look better. She’s their toy.

It matters if you tried as hard as I did to join the ‘it’ group and failed at every foyer into battle. When I entered as a freshman I had a tiny bubble of confidence somewhere hidden but protected inside. By the time I finished I was a puddle of nothing. It was a four year stretch living near the bottom of the social rung. I was so frightened. So alone. So miserable. Every morning I simply tried to endure the next assault on Normandy.

I didn’t become ‘me’ for decades.

But now at 80 I’m beginning a whole new life as a single woman. I am curious if I will see the world differently, photograph it differently. I am fully alive when I have my camera in my hand. It’s an adventure I will be photographing and sharing with you.

Thanks for listening.

c