Pretend I’m not here.
Written by John Macpherson
Above Loch Loyne © John MacPherson
Last Saturday above Loch Loyne I sat in my van in the stiff cold wind, spits of rain hitting the windscreen. The view, even with the somewhat ‘moist’ westerly airstream, was pretty sublime. Car after car passed by, none stopped.
I waited a while longer. More cars passed. None stopped.
I got out, pulled out my camera with conspicuous white Canon zoom lens on it, and started taking photos of the myriad small towers of stones erected over the last few years by visitors. Someone had at some point built the first one, then someone else copied it, then another, and soon the hillside began to resemble a builders yard. These things fascinate me, and more so the motivation of the builders. They annoy a lot of people and similar constructions on Ben Nevis have received a fair bit of publicity this week, here. In truth I’m not a huge fan of them – I like my viewpoints, even ones close to the road, to be shrine-free, so I can at least pretend I’m the only one who’s stood here and gone ‘aaaaah’.
As I focused, another car passed, the driver staring intently at me. And stopped. Pulling over sharply. A family piled out, speaking German, took in the scene, scratched their heads, then wandered over and began to build. Then another car stopped and a couple got out. Then a third car, and a fourth.
I got back in the van and watched. Some folks built, some photographed. All looked bemused. Then all left except the Germans who braved the rain and continued to build. And as they finished up, straightened their backs and wandered back to their car, their brightly coloured jackets attracted another passing car, and a driver who wandered into the fray, looked puzzled, but recorded the scene for posterity.
Eventually all returned to their vehicles and departed. I sat in the van and waited.
The next car approached and passed. Then another, not stopping either. Then a third and a fourth, a fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth. None stopped. So I left.
Fly-on-the-wall documentary photography? Never ever kid yourself that your presence has no influence on the behaviour of your subjects.
Author — John Macpherson
John MacPherson was born and lives in the Scottish Highlands. He trained as a welder in the Glasgow shipyards, before completing an apprenticeship as a carpenter, and then qualified as a Social Worker in Disability Services. Along the way he has cooked on canal barges, trained as an Alpine Ski Leader & worked as an Instructor for Skiers with disabilities, been a canoe instructor, and tutor of night classes in carpentry, stained glass design and manufacture, and archery. He has travelled extensively on various continents, undertaking solo trips by bicycle, or motorcycle. He has had narrow escapes from an ambush by terrorists, been hit by lightning, caught in an erupting volcano, trapped in a mobile home by a tornado, kidnapped by a dog's hairdresser, rammed by a basking shark and was once bitten by a wild otter. He has combined all this with professional photography, which he has practised for over 35 years. He teaches photography and acts as a photography guide & tutor in the UK and abroad. His biggest challenge is keeping his 30 year old Land Rover 110 on the road. He loves telling and hearing stories.
Discussion (4 Comments)
I have to disagree with you on your assertion. What if your camera gear was the moth to the flame? A Canon zoom lens is not known for being subtle – and given it was white, it stood out like a sore thumb. People make the assumption that if your shooting with a lens like that, something important is there. Replace all that DSLR gear with an m4/3 kit (something I have done in the past couple of months) or even a couple of Leica Rangefinders shooting analog. YOU no longer stick out like a sore thumb. The greatest work I’ve seen came from the likes of William Albert Allard and David Alan Harvey who shot in this way.
I’ve shot photo documentary projects where all I did was get to know the people in advance (without taking a single photo) so that they trusted me. Once I EARNED their trust, I then stayed out of their way and I shot minimalist (this was the days of shooting film). They knew I was there, but had to look for me at times as I kept a very low profile. That’s the mark of an experience shooter. Less gear, more skills.
Hi Cliff – well no, you’re not disagreeing at all, in fact you underline precisely the point I was trying to make.
The reason for writing the description of the lens was so it was obvious that it was a ‘flame’. I was there for a reason, precisely to see what would happen if I used it and took some images. It attracted attention, and that attention manifested in more of the ‘towers’ being built. Of course I was able to get some images of that tower building, but the point is those towers may not have been made and my images of them not come about had I been more discrete.
Yes you’re absolutely correct on your wider point. And in fact the subsequent images I took were mostly made using a Ricoh GR compact, slim, black unobtrusive and quiet.
I guess this was less about PJ stealth and more about the phenomenon of ‘place marking’ which I’ve been doing various posts on (eg the clootie/cloth wells).
What you mention re “earning trust” I’ve previosuly mentioned here:
https://www.duckrabbit.info/2012/01/cameras-communication-and-the-intimacy-of-a-moment/
Thanks for commenting.
Does it really need a camera. Stand on the pavement in any city and stare up at the sky. Chances are someone will look up too.
Hi Farhiz- you’re right. I’ve done that too!