Me and you – the dialogue when taking photos

Today a philosophical approach based on Martin Buber’s dialogue principle.[1] What is the relationship between the street photographer and the subject? What does this relationship do to me as a photographer? What dialogue arises between the photographer and a person as a subject?

The dialogic principle

There are two ways of looking at the motif of a street photo:
On the one hand as the subject, in the sense of Buber the relationship between “I” and “you”.
Or the point of view as an object, that is, in Buber’s sense, the relationship “I” to “It”.
The difference lies in the quality of the relationship.

Because you are more than it knows. You are doing more and more is happening to it than It knows.[2]

What does this mean in the context of street photography?
It is my decision as a photographer how I want to approach the subject:
If I want to relate to it, then I see it as “you”.

I cannot experience or describe the shape that confronts me: I can only realize it. And yet I see them, shining in the splendor of the opposite, more clearly than all the clarity of the experienced world.[3]

It is the world of the present in which I relate to the person to be photographed (or perhaps an animal, an object …). Something is happening between us in the form of a silent dialogue that does not need any words. One look, one eyelid lifting, one frown and a message is conveyed to me. A signal that I, as a photographer, can respond to. Maybe with a smile or a shrug or a few words – who knows?

In contrast, there is interaction with other in the form of “It”.

The person who has become ego-like and who says I-It stands in front of things, not opposite them in the stream of interactions; Bent over the individual with the objectifying magnifying glass of his close-up view or with the objectifying binoculars of his distant view, arranging them into a scenario, isolating them in the observation without a feeling of exclusivity or linking them in the observation without a feeling for the world – he could only do that in relation, this only from find her out.[4]

This is the world of the objective, the dehumanized. People become things, hidden behind the seeker – another world.
 

The example of ethical questions

The so far abstract, philosophically formulated can be understood by the inclined reader based on the ethical borderline cases of street
photography : How does the photographer handle when he has a homeless, needy person in front of his lens?
Does he see him as a person, i.e. in the I-You relationship?
Or does he distance himself from it in the form of the I-It relationship?

The former would require interaction with the person. An interpersonal contact, an exchange, possibly a conversation.
A question that every photographer decides for himself.

Systemic interaction and feedback

The contact between photographer and subject, be it in the form of the I-You or in the form of the I-It, is systemic.
Therefore it is a network of feedback loops – communication arises.
Dialogue is systemic and, as in any systemic relationship, it does something to me as a photographer.
To stay with the previous picture: As a photographer, does it leave me cold when someone else needs help? Or do I go up to him and offer my help? Or does it not leave me cold, but I turn away?
Why is my decision going one way or the other?
If you ask yourself this question, you can learn a lot about yourself. And also about the other.

I will on you; I will speak you. All real life is an encounter.[5]

Conclusion

The dialogue is part of the encounters a photographer encounters on the street while taking pictures. He cannot withdraw from this force of nature, he can only position himself. This decision says a lot about the person who takes photos and offers the opportunity to learn.
Street photography is therefore nothing more than learning from life.

1


[1] Martin Buber, The Dialogic Principle, 15th edition 2019, Lambert Schneider / Gütersloher Verlagshaus             

[2] translated by Google – loc. Cit., P. 15             

[3] translated by Google – loc. Cit., P. 16             

[4] translated by Google – loc. Cit., P. 35             

[5] translated by Google – loc. Cit., P. 17             

Zen in photography on the street

There is something meditative about photography. This is especially true for photography on the street, as the many distractions in the chaos of everyday life mean that a special form of concentration is necessary.

Zen as an attitude of mind for the here and now can convey such an attitude in order to achieve focus and still serenity when taking photos.

My understanding of zen

Zen is a form of Buddhism as it is mainly lived in Japan today.

Due to various New Age trends in the 1960s and afterwards, “Zen” is often equated with reduced forms or a kind of minimalism in our western world, for example in Zen gardens.

This only partially corresponds to my understanding of Zen.

For me, Zen is a state of mind. A form of inner awareness of the here and now through concentration and contemplation. Whoever walks through life with this mindset will recognize the goal in the path. It is the merging of being completely with oneself with the all-embracing environment.

Through the meditative components in the form of zazen, the mind is trained to remain mindful and focused.

It is precisely this mindset that helps when taking photos in an urban setting.

Zen in photography

To convey what is going on when taking photos, I would like to use the analogy of hunting at this point. Interestingly, the phrase “to shoot a photo” is also used here in English. The photographer doesn’t do anything else: He doesn’t kill any animals, he hunts moments instead.

An interesting book that describes this connection between “shooting” and Zen is by Eugen Herrigel, Zen in the Art of Archery.[1]

Here are a few quotes:

This time they lingered completely oblivious to themselves and unintentionally in the highest tension; then the shot fell from you like a ripe fruit.[2]

In order to unleash the highest tension of this spiritual alertness, you have to carry out the ceremony differently than before: like a real dancer dances. When you do this, the movements of your limbs spring from the center in which right breathing occurs.[3]

Is it me who draws the bow, or is it the bow that draws me into the highest tension? Is it me who hits the target or is the target hitting me? Is the ‘it’ spiritual in the eyes of the body and physical in the eyes of the mind – is it both or neither? All this: bow, arrow, target and I intertwine so that I can no longer separate them. And even the need to separate has disappeared. [4]

And? Did you, dear reader, recognize yourself in these sentences?

There were days when I plugged in my in-ear headphones and then danced through people to music. Dodging a ballet and meandering through the crowds and taking photos without focusing while trusting that the camera’s autofocus would fix it.

There were other days when I had moved the camera to my head and instinctively pulled the trigger, as if in a frenzy, deeply absorbed, like a machine, without really being aware of what I was photographing.

It wasn’t important either.

It was the act of taking photos, of becoming one with the camera, that let me act and make the decisions. It wasn’t ME who took the photos; it was IT that made me follow tension and prints from my subconscious.

The journey of photography was the goal, not the photo itself.

Breathing technique as a meditative element

Meditation is an essential aspect of Zen. Correct breathing is essential in meditation.

By slowing the breathing to a calmer rhythm and being aware of this breathing through concentration, the mind is calm. This thinking enables the focus on the photographic motif. Of particular importance in street photography, because the moments are fast moving. There is no time for decisions, but the mind must be so clear and focused that it can reflexively reel off a program when the “command” to trigger is given.

This calm breathing can be trained. Both in your own meditation exercises and through the meditative aspects of walking through the streets itself.

Scientists have found that a breathing rate of 4 seconds of inhalation and 6 seconds of exhalation leads to increased inner peace.[5] Just try it out.

Zen in photo design

As stated above, form reduction as a method of minimalism is not my primary understanding of Zen.

Rather, the reduction in the photo is a “waste product” of conscious action in the sense of Zen. Those who follow the path of Zen and are in the here and now will not allow themselves to be distracted, but instead focus on the essentials.

As a result, the photo appears reduced as a result in many contexts.

This can be intensified in post-processing.

Sometimes, at least that’s how I feel, when I post-process a lot of photos, I get into a kind of meditative flow state that is similar to the one described above. Too much information is perceived as annoying in the long run and I sometimes caught myself setting stronger black-and-white contrasts towards the end of the editing session and filtering out unwanted image information.

The photos created in this way appear reduced, more minimalistic.

Summary

The meditative elements of Zen can help you take better photos through their focusing mindset.

Correct breathing plays an important role in this.

A reduction of image elements is then more the result of the focused approach in the act of taking photos.

1


[1] O.W. Barth Publisher             

[2] page 65             

[3] page 68             

[4] page 76             

[5] Spectrum of Science compact 45.20, page 9             

Laws of Form in Street Photography

Another article after a long time. I would like to revive the blog and in the future I will regularly write articles about philosophical and psychological issues when taking photos on the street.

I will start with an article on the application of the Laws of Form by George Spencer Brown ([1] ) and the effects on the act of photographing, post-processing and viewing the photo.

Draw a distinction

Law 2: Draw a distinction

When we take a photo just before we press the shutter button, what is going through our minds? Do we think “oh, the person is smiling” or do we think “great scene” or do we think nothing at all?

In any case, we make a decision. The decision to capture this moment as a still image in the form of a photo. We make a decision. And with that we also make a distinction!

Because before it is the course of life in the form of a river. Consistently without a caesura and coherent.[2]

By pressing the shutter release button, I want to capture exactly this moment, pull it out of the flow of life and thereby distinguish it from other moments.

What happens through this distinction?

First of all, this distinction works like a cohesion: All people and objects in the photo are summarized in this photo and are trapped in a relationship to one another for the duration of the photo’s existence. The photo binds the elements of what is seen, the content of the photo, this one moment.

At the same time I exclude through the photo: All events, people and objects that were not captured in the frame of the photo, but were present in this moment of the flow of life, are not part of the moment.

Through this cohesion of what is banned in the photo and the parts that are not visible, a boundary, a distinction was made through the frame of the photo.

This boundary is physical, because the invisible is not a physical part of the photo, as well as temporal, because the moment is captured, but life went on.

Overcome boundaries

With some distinctions, borders are permeable and enable a transition. Is this also possible here?

The temporal separation makes this almost impossible, because the moment is the past, irretrievable.

But what happens if one of the people who are not shown in the photo, but who were present in the moment of their lives, sees this photo?

“Oh, I was there too! It’s a shame that I can’t be seen. And besides, it was completely different: the person on the right laughed. You don’t see that here. “

This could then be a comment and a kind of interaction takes place afterwards, through viewing.

Otherwise the limit is fixed, isn’t it?

A look at the post-processing is permitted at this point: In post-processing, we can give the limits of what is seen and the captured moment a new meaning by cropping the photo.

This makes the border variable, but not permeable. What remains is the distinction between what is depicted and what is invisible. Only the act of cutting is a second moment in making a distinction. And with it the drawing of a new border.

Observer

Where there was no distinction before, pressing the shutter button turned into one, as we had seen.

Then what is my role or function as a photographer? Am I an actor, am I part, am I an observer? Maybe everything and yet nothing.

I am part because I was present in the moment of life. But I’m not part of it, because I’m not in the photo.

I am the actor, because I took the photo, so made the distinction. But I am not an actor, because my action was not documented in the photo, but only through it.

I am an observer because I look at the photo, for example in post-processing. I am not an observer, because when I publish the photo, others are the observers.

The concept of the observer plays an important role in dealing with the work of George Spencer Brown. [3]

In this case of the example with the photo, too, it becomes clear that the observer – be it the photographer himself or a third party – has an important role to play.

The photo itself is irrelevant if no one is looking at it. Its existence becomes aware only in its contemplation. This means that the moment captured with the photo is only important when looking at it.

The third observer may not have been present at the moment of the flow of life. And this gives him a great opportunity: because looking at it enables him to reinterpret what he has seen. This act of interpretation gives the captured moment a new meaning and, if necessary, also puts it in a different context.

The observer himself creates something new through his observation and thereby becomes part of the whole.

Re-entry

Later in the timeline: I’ll come back to the location of the photo days later. The situation is different now. New people, new objects, new processes.

And yet the photo taken has an effect on me. The memory of the past moment is present. Comparisons to the here and now arise and merge with the memory.

The photo is the documentation of the past, what I see, the moment, what will the future show when I return to the place?

When you look at the photo again, the past becomes present again and thus the continuance of the now.

Summary

We live in systems.

We street photographers use these systems. All the time.

With our photos we create sections of these systems and make distinctions.

These distinctions enable third parties to interpret as observers and thus to become part of the system.


[1] George Spencer Brown, Laws of Form, Bohmeier Verlag, sixth edition 2015.             

[2] I am following Democritus’ view of “panta rhei” – everything flows. Eleats may think differently …             

[3] Take, for example, the works of Niklas Luhmann, who has dealt intensively with the Laws of Form.