Hi,

I last wrote to you in July when I got to premiere a wee film my friend made of me cutting about Warsaw, making photos. Since then - nothing. Writing plainly, it has been a fecund year of photography, but an unmistakable disillusionment with this platform had been taking root.

My intention, such as it is, remains to return to writing to you in 2026, whether here or on another platform. I have much still to say, and a lot of work to show, and though the road to hell is paved with such good intentions, hopefully you’ll stay with me to see what happens.

For this first letter in a while, and the final of 2025, I thought I might pull a photograph from the stacks of each month and write a few words. Then that’ll be it. Off we head towards Hogmanay, the bells, and the cautious promise of a new year.

January

January began with a trip home to Scotland to photograph Mogwai’s album launch show for The Bad Fire at Glasgow’s QMU. I had the pleasure of the company of my brother, and my teenage best pal, Iain, at the show.

On this flying visit, I got to hang out with Neil Scott, his wife, and a couple of other Substackers. Earlier that month, back in the cold air of Warsaw, I continued to document the Polish pro-Palestine movement against Israel’s genocide in Gaza (see above).

February

A short trip to Scotland on my own the previous month was followed fairly swiftly by a lovely trip with Marta to Nice. Anything to avoid the Varsovian freeze, it seemed. Otherwise, February was a quiet month, though surprisingly, my diary reminds me I photographed the Polish Prime Minister Donald Tusk with the Alphabet CEO Sundar Pichai, and separately photographed at the Warsaw Stock Exchange. None of that, though, was as fun as photographing Franz Ferdinand at Progresja.

March

On the other hand, March was a riot. Not only did my beloved Newcastle United win the Carabao Cup, but I travelled over to London to photograph the Geordie invasion of the capital. Though I didn’t get to the match itself, I spent time in Covent Garden with the fans, then on to Wembley Way for the build-up. Afterwards, I headed to a Supporters’ Trust event at a sports bar to watch the match, and after we won (we won!!!), made a beeline back to Wembley for the fans leaving the stadium. What a birthday present the Magpies gave me! Two weeks later, I was back in the UK, this time with my dad and brother in Newcastle itself for the open-top bus parade celebrations. Incredible. Imagine no liking football!

Such havoc was March that I almost forgot to mention that Marta and I adopted a beautiful, if perpetually terrified, notweiller, Lotka. I fell in love instantly.

April

Marta and I got away again this month, though this time we took the newest member of our wee family to the Polish countryside so she could run around a bit. We were lucky to get some sun. Otherwise, April was spent mostly on the streets, a little bit of agency work, and a little bit of street photography. Calm before the comparative oncoming storm of summer.

May

As Spring came to an end, Poland woke up. There was a Labour Day march, a Constitution Day run and parade, Ostatnie Pokolenie (the Climate Action group) began a month of protests and actions, and a savage murder was inflicted on a member of staff at Warsaw University. A lot of work, and that was before the first round of the Polish presidential election which I missed when I traveled to Scotland for a long weekend to photograph Mogwai at the Glasgow Barrowland. After a brilliant time at home where I got to take my nieces to a SWPL match, I was brought back to earth with a crash when I joined a poignant and at times furious protest at the Israeli embassy in Warsaw, and then suffered a brutal bout of COVID.

June

This month saw the victory of former football hooligan Karol Nawrocki in the second round of the Polish presidential election. Much of the month was spent with disputes of the result but mid-month it was confirmed. It was around then that my friend Jaap and I sat down in his back garden to record an interview about street photography. Later, he joined me at the Corpus Christi parade in Warsaw’s old town to take B-roll for the interview. The B-roll turned into a film itself so the interview was put on the backburner. Hopefully, it’ll see the light of day early next year.

There was a lot going on in June. The now traditional Parade of the Mermaids, Warsaw Pride, the second annual Palestine Solidarity Days, but it was the speaking tour visit of Dr. Gabor Maté that became the highlight of the month.

July

Midsummer gave way to a fractious month, awaiting Nawrocki’s inauguration in August. Demonstrations and counter-demonstrations were organised. On the 19th, a large gathering of far-right football hooligans assembled in the centre of the city, with a smaller counterprotest of antifascist activists gathered 300 metres away. That the police allowed this was demented. It was the only time this year work got violent, with one particular wall-puncher taking exception to being photographed. His admittedly lacklustre grabbing and twisting of my arm found its way onto the national TV news. Pure riddy! Later that same afternoon, the fascist element broke across towards the antifascist group and began throwing bottles. Several were injured, but thankfully no-one seriously hurt. It was, though, a worrying indication of the emboldening of the far-right after their presidential election victory.

August

The inauguration came and went without any great trouble, though it was a long, hot day of photographing. The day before, I’d been tipped the wink that Pro-Palestine protesters were going to block the road outside the Chancellery of the Prime Minister (see above). On the 10th, I photographed the early-morning rehearsal for the Armed Forces Day parade but was unable to work the parade itself as the ‘rona struck. Again! Two weeks out of the game and back just in time to enjoy the last week of summer, albeit with a cough driving everyone bananas. The summer ended with an odious anti-immigration march, a riverside promo shoot for a Polish industrial rave band, and an action-packed dog frisbee contest where I lost my glasses!

September

And then the drones came. It’s a surreal experience to be woken by Marta with the news that Russian drones were flying over Poland, airports were closed, and an air response had been launched. A few days later, we got reports of a downed drone found near Warsaw, so several colleagues and I got in the car and headed over to find the recovery effort. Other than this, my diary tells me September wasn’t much more than some corporate gigs, a few protests, oh and photographing Kneecap in Warsaw!

October

The month opened with an emotional protest outside the Israeli embassy marking the 2nd year of the Israeli genocide in Gaza, then Marta and I took Lottie away for a few days in the Świętokrzyskie Mountains. We returned in time for me to step straight back into international news with the return of the Polish delegates of the Gaza Freedom Flotilla. Far-right and antifascist groups continued to organise demonstrations and counter-protests. The month ended with some whimsy, photographing the Polish qualifiers of the Quidditch World Cup, a co-ed, LGBTQ+ friendly sport which I found to my delight had not long ago been renamed Quadball to end any connection to the Queen TERF.

November

If I thought Newcastle’s Carabao Cup win was to be the footballing highlight of the year for me, I was very much mistaken. After failing to beat Greece, the final match of the World Cup qualifiers with Denmark was a cup final. Win and Scotland qualify. Lose and we head to the play-offs. Going into the match, I was not confident, and then this happened. Our first World Cup qualification since I was in my teens. For two days solid, I did no work whatsoever, choosing instead to watch every possible moment of celebration on social media. I’ve still got goosebumps thinking about it. So much more happened in November: Protests, demonstrations, Poland’s Independence Day march, the first snow of the year, and Luvcat’s tour photographer being a detestable fud, but nothing worth mentioning more than Scotland are going to the World Cup!

In December, Ross MacDonald’s superlative photograph of Scott McTominay’s athletic opening goal against Denmark was framed and unveiled at the National Portrait Gallery of Scotland. Spoilers - when home at Christmas, I popped along to see it. Brilliant.

December

Finally, we make our way through December. The thrust of this month was photographing the WATCH DOCS Human Rights Film Festival. To be a little part of this team with Marta each year is a pleasure.

Elsewhere, we lost Martin Parr which was a real gut punch though an excuse, while none were needed, to revist a lot of his work. Warsaw opened a busy new Christmas market outside the Palace of Culture and Science so a lot of work was done there as well as photographing the turning on of the city’s Christmas lights in the old town. For Christmas itself, I travelled home for some Milton family shenanigans.

I popped up the road to Glasgow and Edinburgh for some street photography and Christmas shopping, but largely I spent the week at home in Airdrie eating Scotch pies and drinking Irn-Bru.

And Finally….

Now it’s Hogmanay. 2026 is on its way, and while the world looks to be in a terrible state, there are glimmers of hope ahead, and we can only step into it with the intention to make it a better place. I know what my plans will be for the coming year. How about yours?

Have a great time at the bells and for auld lang syne, have a Happy New Year!

N.

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If you’re a Substack writer and enjoy this publication, I’d be more than humbled if you would consider recommending Photos, mostly to your subscribers.

Photos, mostly is free to read, however, donations help me keep making photographs and writing. All labour required to publish Photos, mostly is undertaken by me alone. As I strive to better live by my anti-capitalist beliefs, I will donate 10% of all income to anti-capitalist, leftist or progressive causes or organisations.

Please consider buying me a roll of film. You can do so by clicking here, or by aiming your smartphone camera at the QR code below.

I'm partial to some of that Tri-X 400 if you're asking. Thank you!

I’m bringing Photos, mostly to you a week early this month as I want to share the film mentioned in my last Dispatches post. Enjoy.

In a previous life as a musician and underachieving record label owner, I was lucky enough to do some memorable things. Radio, TV, and TEDxWarsaw appearances were all experiences worth writing home about, as they say. Nevertheless, whenever such things were recorded, something would inevitably go wrong.

On The Frozen North’s hilarious appearance on popular Polish morning TV show Pytanie na Śniadanie, our 4 minutes of fame were beset with technical issues. We understood we were invited to discuss our new record and perform. They seemed to want to discuss the intriguing cross-cultural make-up of our band (4 Poles, an Irishman, and a Scot). We inevitably did neither to any great degree, and ended up performing less than 2 minutes of an 8-minute song, before cutting to an ad for a popular probiotic. Terrible - so much so that I turned it into a tight-five stand-up bit to amuse my photography school students.

A half-decade later, TEDxWarsaw, an organisation I had belonged to for most of my time in Poland, was celebrating its 10th anniversary with the original team’s final event. Pop-up Books, a band I had formed not long before a global pandemic put an end to it, was chosen to perform. As a warm-up, we had played only one previous gig a few nights before, so this was our first real show, and it’s fair to say our performance on the TEDx stage wasn’t our best, suffering as we were with an attack of the jitters. Nevertheless, the standard TEDx recording of the set would be useful to push us on and give us a lovely document of the performance, right? Nope. For TEDxWarsaw 10, it seems the team had hired a 10-year-old to run the sound desk. At times, the audio fades, at others it disappears. There’s errant feedback, weird delays. The whole thing is a disappointing mess. This might be the 1st time I’ve shared it widely in almost 6 years. Still, at least we look pretty cool!

So, you can see why I might be a little wary of finding myself in front of the camera, setting myself up for some ego-failing, vanity-pricking disappointment. It was for this reason, then, that when my friend and colleague Jaap Arriens asked if I’d like to work with him on a film about my street photography for his YouTube channel, I was desperate to emerge from the adventure with something I could be happy to share far and wide without shrivelling up inside with acute embarrassment.

And wouldn’t you know, we managed it. Jaap’s film follows me through the afternoon of the 19th June this year at the Corpus Christi parade from St. John's Archcathedral in Warsaw through to the Piłsudski Square. I work, we chat, and you can see some of the photos made that day. I hope you will have a look and enjoy it. I had a lot of fun making it with Jaap.

Afterword: Some scattered thoughts

The film began as b-roll to garnish an interview on street photography that I filmed with Jaap in his back garden. Throughout the afternoon, I think he began to see the possibility of a second film that would precede the interview, and by the end of the day, it was clear this fly-on-the-wall doc would come first and in a month or so, the interview will appear.

Using a Leica and wide-angle lenses, I get pretty close to my subjects, which has trained me to have a sixth sense to do all that I can to stay out of other photographers’ viewfinders lest I ruin their shot. It was an unusual feeling, then, to be filmed as I was photographing. I had to repeatedly fight the urge to escape Jaap’s lens.

Given my inherent shyness, it was an eye-opening experience to watch the footage back and see the confidence with which I move around in the crowd. It reminded me of the afternoon in Paris when, for 30 minutes and from some distance, I watched Richard Kalvar work on the Place de la République. For street photographers, I think there is certainly a benefit to seeing the way in which others work. No doubt, many of us have taken a lot from this famous short video of Winogrand. I certainly have.

It is also interesting to see the reactions, or - for the most part - lack thereof, of the people I was photographing. As I passed, Jaap followed behind me, and you can see very few people even acknowledge that I was there. One of the big anxieties many new street photographers have is that they are intruding or may be angrily confronted, and here you can see that fear is largely unfounded.

In all, I’m delighted with the result of the film, and I can’t thank Jaap enough for suggesting we collaborate. Certainly, it’s very useful for giving my ego a wee tickle, though when Marta sees me watching it - again - she punctures any hint of pomposity by referencing this moment of animated genius.

The reason I wanted to make it, though, is much the same as for this newsletter, my website, my teaching and my mentoring, all in the hope that it may be useful for other street photographers out there, or those wanting to give it a try.

And Finally…

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If you’re new here, I’d be very grateful if you would subscribe to or share Photos, mostly. Sharing with 1 or 2 friends who enjoy street photography really will help more than you may think.

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If you’re a Substack writer and enjoy this publication, I’d be more than humbled if you would consider recommending Photos, mostly to your subscribers.

Photos, mostly is free to read, however, paid subscriptions and donations help me keep making photographs and writing. All labour required to publish Photos, mostly is undertaken by me alone. As I strive to better live by my anti-capitalist beliefs, I will donate 10% of all income to anti-capitalist, leftist or progressive causes or organisations.

Please consider upgrading to a paid subscription or buying me a roll of film. You can do so by clicking here, or by aiming your smartphone camera at the QR code below.

I'm partial to some of that Tri-X 400 if you're asking. Thank you!

Photos, mostly comes to you a week early this October, and at the expense of my usual havering on street photography. Instead, this month, we begin the 1st of an occasional series of interviews, Conversations, mostly.

My 1st conversation for the series is, appropriately enough, with the 1st photography writer on Substack, the Amsterdam-based photographer and curator, Wesley Verhoeve. Wesley's excellent newsletter, Process, is a must-read from an insightful, thoughtful photographer. 13,000 readers can't be wrong, after all!

Wesley's photography has been featured in the New York Times, National Geographic Traveler, Washington Post, Wired, New York Magazine, Volkskrant, and many others. He is the founding curator of the Projected series at the International Center of Photography in New York, and currently curates Process Projected, a bi-monthly exhibition series at the WIHH Gallery in Amsterdam.

Wesley's first monograph, NOTICE, was published by New Style Publishing in 2021 and is now in its second printing. This November, he will publish NOTICE Journal Volume One, and he and I had a chat about this new book which began its presale on Sunday 20th October.

You can read more about the different editions, the early-bird pricing, and how to order the book over on Process. Without any further ado, here is my conversation with Wesley. Enjoy.

Neil Milton: NOTICE Journal, Volume One revisits Amsterdam over three consecutive springs. Given the season’s inherent association with rebirth and growth, how did your own personal transformations over this time influence the project and the photographs that you made?

Wesley Verhoeve: Over those three springs, I went through some major changes in my life, following a move from one continent to another. I think we all have experienced challenging periods in which we struggle with change of one kind or another, whether it’s in our professional, romantic, or family life. This project became a way for me to process my feelings and those changes. Spring, with its relationship with rebirth and new beginnings, mirrored what I was going through. As I photographed Amsterdam in this season of renewal, I found myself healing and reconnecting with parts of myself I had lost along the way.

NM: The title of the book follows from your 1st monograph, published in 2021. How do you feel the book follows from where NOTICE left off? Do you see it as an explicit successor or more of a spiritual follow-up?

WV: It’s definitely more of a spiritual follow-up than a direct sequel. NOTICE was where photography became meditation for me, a way to slow down and truly see all that I usually would rush right past. This was a forced stillness due to the pandemic in what was, to me, a brand new place: the suburbs of Vancouver.

This new book, while rooted in a different city and time, in a way follows that same thread of using photography as a way to navigate personal change, but now making art went beyond meditation and into a form of therapy. Both books explore overlooked beauty, but NOTICE Journal delves deeper into themes of rebirth and transformation. It’s less about capturing a place in a specific moment and more about how that place interacts with the changes happening within me.

NM: It’s evident there’s a therapeutic aspect to the book and from the diptychs I have seen, it passes from photographer to viewer. The diptychs were made with a half-frame camera dating from 1964, how did you come about it, and why was this the tool you decided to work with as you made the photographs for the project?

WV: I came across the Pen-F when my friend Guy told me I should borrow his sometime, and it immediately intrigued me. It’s a unique tool because it shoots two images per frame, which means you’re not just thinking about individual photos—you’re thinking in pairs, almost like a conversation between two images. That format was perfect for this project because I wanted to tell stories through contrasts and connections. The camera forced me to be more thoughtful about how the images would work together and how they could reflect the themes of duality and transformation.

NM: You talk of storytelling through connection, contrast, and figurative conversation. Naturally, similarities can be drawn to cinema. I was struck by the tonal quality of the photographs and read that the film used was the black-and-white film favoured by Spielberg and Scorsese. Clearly, this was a deliberate decision. Do you see parallels between your photographic diptychs and wider cinematic storytelling?

WV: Yes, Double-X 5222 was the film I used, and it’s definitely got a cinematic feel to it, with its rich contrasts and depth. The idea of pairing images in diptychs does have parallels to cinematic storytelling in that each pair of photos works almost like a scene. They’re meant to create a dialogue, a push and pull between light and shadow, stillness and movement, or different emotions. In a way, it’s like editing a film—choosing which moments to place side-by-side to evoke a feeling or suggest a narrative arc.

NM: These diptychs, these pairs of photographs, reveal overlooked or unnoticed corners of Amsterdam. What was your process in deciding where to explore and when?

WV: It was a mix of intentional wandering and spontaneous discovery. I didn’t set out with a strict plan, but rather allowed myself to drift through the city, especially both neighborhoods I lived in over those three years, and let moments reveal themselves to me. I often found the most overlooked spots by walking at odd hours, when the light hit the city in interesting ways or when places were quieter. I wasn’t looking for traditional beauty—sometimes it was the texture of a wall, the pattern of shadows cast by a tree, or the way a reflection distorted a familiar scene. It was about letting go of expectations and being open to seeing something new in the ordinary.

NM: Being open to the unexpected every day that we step out the door is something I feel you and I share in our photography. I go back to Glasgow every year and find that I see it, and photograph it, differently each time. Did that cyclical nature of viewing Amsterdam in different springs show you the city in different ways? Were there moments when the city revealed something new and entirely unexpected?

WV: Absolutely. The cyclical nature of returning to the same places in different springs gave me a deeper understanding of how time and light shape the city. Each spring felt like a new chapter, even though the settings were often the same. Some streets or parks that seemed mundane one year would reveal something striking the next—maybe it was the way the light had shifted, or maybe I had changed in a way that allowed me to see them differently. There were definitely moments when the city surprised me, showing me a detail or a mood I hadn’t noticed before. And again, it was mostly about what was going on inside of me, and the city allowed me to see echoes of those emotions in its spaces.

NM: You mentioned earlier that the diptychs are an interplay of light and shadow, but I also note reflection. The most striking aspect of the collection, though, is the often abstract use of line and geometry. For instance, in one diptych, you pair strong ladder-like lines with long arcing curves. Can you speak to some of the choices you made?

WV: Geometry and abstraction became key elements in how I approached the diptychs. I was drawn to the idea of using lines and shapes to create a visual rhythm, something that feels both structured and organic. The ladder-like lines paired with the curved arcs in that diptych were about contrast and balance. I wanted to juxtapose rigid, almost architectural forms with something more fluid and natural. It’s a visual metaphor for the tension between control and letting go, which is something I was experiencing personally while working on this project.

NM: Yes, it was certainly one of the pairs that had the biggest impact on me as I looked through the photographs. That juxtaposition of the unyielding lines against the pliant curves was artfully done. The diptych format follows naturally from using the half-frame camera, but how did the format shape your perceived narrative and emotional rhythm of the project both when making the photographs and then when sequencing for the book?

WV: The diptych format really did dictate how the project unfolded. When making the photographs, I was not always thinking about pairs, but when I was, I thought about how two images could speak to each other, either through contrast or harmony. It created a sense of rhythm in the way I shot, almost like a call-and-response. Other times, I would find my flow state and just shoot, discovering the pairing once my scans came in. When sequencing for the book, that rhythm became even more important. The diptychs allowed me to play with pacing and mood—some pairs are quiet and meditative, while others are more energetic or dissonant. It helped create an emotional journey for the viewer, much like how scenes in a film build tension or resolve.

NM: Finally, turning to the volume itself. The importance placed on the experience of nostalgia within the book is evident. You've included an essay, and singularly, a recipe, to accompany the film photographs. This is all bound in retro typography by Maxwell George. It's a visually striking cover. How do you imagine the interplay between the text, writing, design, and photography for the reader?

WV: I wanted the book to feel like more than just a collection of images—it’s an experience that draws on multiple senses and emotions. The essay by Caroline Cala Donofrio and the recipe by Hetty McKinnon both tap into themes of nostalgia and rebirth, and they offer a different layer of storytelling that complements the photographs. The typography by Maxwell George is heavily inspired by the Amsterdam school of design (1910-1930) and adds a retro, timeless feel that ties everything together. For me, the interplay between the text, design, and images is about creating a cohesive narrative where each element enhances the others, giving the reader something to feel, think about, and in the case of the recipe even taste.

And Finally…

Thanks to Wesley for our conversation, and good luck to him on the release of the book. I’ll be back next month, with more Dispatches, chapter 2 of The Tinnitus Diaries, and new Photos, mostly. It really is good to be back writing to you again.

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If you’re new here, I’d be very grateful if you would subscribe to or share Photos, mostly. Sharing with 1 or 2 friends who enjoy street photography really will help more than you may think. Especially as I get this project back on its feet ready for 2025.

Share

If you’re a Substack writer and enjoy this publication, I’d be more than humbled if you would consider recommending Photos, mostly to your subscribers.

Photos, mostly is free to read, however, paid subscriptions and donations help me keep making photographs and writing. All labour required to publish Photos, mostly is undertaken by me alone. As I strive to better live by my anti-capitalist beliefs, I will donate 10% of all income to anti-capitalist, leftist or progressive causes or organisations.

Please consider upgrading to a paid subscription or buying me a roll of film. You can do so by clicking here, or by aiming your smartphone camera at the QR code below.

I'm partial to some of that Tri-X 400 if you're asking. Thank you!

I swept into 2024 with all the dedicated intention of a determined toddler. This was going to be the year that I took Photos, mostly from the wonderful 1k readers I had to the next step. I had a long list of article topics, a longer list of side projects for paying readers, and a desire to get to 1500 readers by the end of the year.

Almost immediately the year skipped the tracks. It hasn't been all bad - only terribly busy. I began working for an agency which, through necessity, pushed me from film towards digital photography for the 1st time since 2010. As such, alongside my photographic work, I took some corporate work, allowing me to buy a new digital camera and a spectrum of lenses, but taking much of my time. With 2 full-time jobs, an active activist life, and a partner I was careful not to neglect, I found little time for other things.

From documenting the protest encampment of the students of Warsaw University, to football fans suffering Poland’s unceremonious departure from the 2024 Euros. From military parades to political commemorations of tragedy. From religious festivals to life out on the street. This year has kept me busy.

Each month I planned a come back to Photos, mostly and then more would be ladled onto a plate already saturated with metaphorical (and at times, literal) calories. In July, I was just about ready and then after a short illness, our beautiful, beloved dog Bajka died, leaving a gaping hole in our lives and in our hearts - a hole I'm sure will never fully be filled.

And so here I am, around a month and a half after that. Working as often as I can both for the agency and on personal work, yet still wondering when I will be able to return to writing here on my newsletter which despite evidence to the contrary, means the world to me.

For those few paid subscribers who have persisted through this barren time, thank you so much. 10% of everything I've earned, even in my absence, has still been going to progressive and left-wing causes. It means the world. When I begin writing regularly again, which I expect to be sooner rather than later, I will gift each of you a free year. Given that several of you paid for that and didn't get much for it, this feels only fair.

As for the future of Photos, mostly, I think it's clear to me that I bit off a little more than I could chew with my intention to go once per week with all my different plans and schemes. I suspect I'll go back to twice a month at most for the time being, however, I will find ways to thread all the rest of the ideas and thoughts I have into the schedule over time - and will develop some plan for my paid subscribers.

So what now? What is this post other than an explanation of absence? I decided to bring you a collection of photographs from the last 6 months or so - the 1st 6 months of working with the Leica M11-P and (for the most part, though not all) my new go-to, daily-carry lens, the 35mm Summicron f/2.

With all the photos, this post will, I’m sure, exceed the length of an email, so it may be better to have a look on Substack’s platform. I hope you enjoy the photos included below, and I look forward to a return to more regular writing soon.

Free Palestine.

Some Photos. Extended edition

And Finally…

Thank you again for sticking around in my absence, and if you’re new here. I promise, it’s not always this quiet. More sooner rather than later.

Photos, mostly and Dispatches are free to read, however, paid subscriptions and donations help me keep making photographs and writing. All labour required to publish Photos, mostly is undertaken by me alone. As I strive to better live by my anti-capitalist beliefs, I will donate 10% of all income to anti-capitalist, leftist or progressive causes or organisations.

You can buy me a roll of film by clicking here, or by aiming your smartphone camera at the QR code below.

I'm partial to some of that Tri-X 400 if you're asking. Thank you!

As I move into 2024, I have begun to teach private photography lessons, I am looking for more freelance work in both documentary and music photography, and I have fallen a little behind in school and must catch up. All of this comes at a time when my anxiety is up, I'm suffering from a concurrent dose of the old writer's block, and if I were to say Substack's recent troubles had not knocked my enthusiasm and drive, I suspect I would be lying. Given the number of I’m taking a brief pause, or, time for an unexpected slow-down posts I’m seeing, I’m not the only one.

All that is to say that despite having the newsletter's content for the year ahead meticulously sketched out, I have not had the time or the concentration to research and pen my article for this month. Instead, following on from some excellent Substack photo posts I have enjoyed over the last months, I opted to start developing the 30-odd rolls of Tri-x nestled inside my desk drawer and present an extended Some Photos section for this month. I hope you enjoy the selection of photographs, and the delayed Issue 15 will follow at the end of February.

Some Photos. Extended edition

Digest, January 2024

My latest article for Shoot It With Film made its long-awaited appearance. It took me almost a year to write this thing, but it’s out.

• The Leica M3: A Comprehensive Guide

I am a fan of Marcel Borgstijn’s newsletter Darkrooms, so I was delighted to be asked to take part in his The Dark Rooms of… interview series.

• The Dark Rooms of… Neil Milton

And Finally…

Thank you to all my new subscribers. It’s great to have you here. Next week, on the 7th, there will be a little something for paid subscribers, before we resume our regular programming on the 14th of February with the next Dispatches email.

Subscribe now

I’d be very grateful if you would subscribe to or share Photos, mostly. Sharing with 1 or 2 friends who enjoy street photography really will help more than you may think.

Share

If you’re a Substack writer and enjoy this publication, I’d be more than humbled if you would consider recommending Photos, mostly to your subscribers.

Photos, mostly and Dispatches are free to read, and now each month there will be at least 1 article for paid subscribers. Please consider upgrading to a paid subscription or buying me a roll of film. You can do so by clicking here, or by aiming your smartphone camera at the QR code below.

I'm partial to some of that Tri-X 400 if you're asking. Thank you!

It is almost unthinkable now that there was a time when photography was available only to those with expertise. Knowledge of physics, chemistry, and art history was required to even begin making, developing, and printing photographs. One also had to have the means so for some time this expensive, dangerous pursuit of photography was the walled playground of the wealthy. The original Wet Plate process that required photographers to coat, expose, and process the plate in one sitting often confined the expert photographer to a studio. The later invention of the more practical Dry Plate process allowed photographers to coat the plate, let it dry and expose it at a different time or place.

In the 1880s, George Eastman, a bank teller from Rochester, NY, began a flirtation with photography as he hoped to document an approaching vacation. In his experimentations with Richard Maddox's Dry Plate process, he found he could substitute the glass plate with paper. Rather more flexible than glass, paper could be spooled behind the shutter, and thus was born the roll of film. Eastman later founded the Eastman Dry Plate and Film Company and began selling his patented rolls of dry-coated photographic film to photographers. Whether or not he enjoyed his holiday has been lost to history.

The Democratization of Photography

A born entrepreneur, George Eastman's vision was to make photography accessible to the masses. In 1888, he produced a simple box camera, The Kodak. Named for a word devised when playing word games one evening with his mother, Eastman believed the unique name with the strong K would be memorable. He was not wrong.

With some flair for advertising, Eastman sold The Kodak with the memorable slogan, You press the button, we do the rest. The camera came pre-loaded with a roll of paper film 100 exposures long. It had fixed focus and no viewfinder and was by definition, if not by name, a point-and-shoot. No expertise was required for use and there was no messy chemistry to concern oneself with. When spent, the camera, with exposed film still inside, would be shipped back to Rochester for processing and printing. The prints would be returned with the camera, and a new roll of film installed, ready for 100 further button presses.

With such simplicity, the Kodak was a great success. For the first time, photography was available to millions of casual enthusiasts. The process was customer-friendly, easy, and uncomplicated, and it sparked a revolution.

The Kodak Revolution

Free from the constraints of the studio and any need for scientific understanding, the Kodak excited a national craze for snapshot photography. Believed to have been coined by Sir John Herschel in the mid-19th century, the term was stolen, as much of the predatory language of photography had been, from hunting. A snapshot, whether through barrel or lens, is a quick shot made without careful aim. With the absence of a viewfinder, the Kodak was very much a snapshot camera. Unencumbered by the need, or capacity, for careful composition the snapshooter discovered by way of experiments and happy accidents a new photographic vocabulary. As cameras were carried in one's daily life, gone were the still, staid, sober portraits of the salon, and here to stay arrived the kinetic enjoyment of life in the world and a procession of subjects encouraged to smile.

Clubs were founded and magazines published, all to allow these Kodak Fiends to share in their love for this new fad of photography. Just a decade after the Kodak was introduced, there were over 1 and a half million roll-film cameras in production and millions of photographs, with their imperfect framing and spontaneous composition, were made every year. Middle-class consumers all across America and the Western world were indulging in this new-found hobby. Such was the ubiquity of the snapshot, Queen Victoria was snapped by her daughter-in-law, the photo-mad Princess Alexandra, and the Kodak, in the hands of protagonist Jonathan Harker, even made a cameo appearance in Bram Stoker’s 1897 novel Dracula.

The vast impact that this mass adoption of photography had on the world was plain to see. Within only a few years, photography had gone from a highly specialised practice to near-ubiquity. Grandparents and children alike made photographs of their families and lives. Such was the youthful enthusiasm for photography, that Kodak's next camera, launched in 1900, was advertised for children. The Brownie was sold at a reduced price, costing only $1. Processing cost only 40c and to have the camera returned, and reloaded with film, only a further 15c. Now, photography had escaped the domain of the middle class and was available to all but the poorest of families.

Jacques Henri Lartigue and the Snapshot Aesthetic

Born to a wealthy family, Jacques Henri Lartigue had the opportunity to begin making photographs as a young boy of just 7. Though now considered a master of 20th-century photography, then he was an enthusiastic, gifted amateur making photographs of his life as a playful, fun-loving boy. As a demonstration of the keen culture of amateurism that fostered his photography, Lartigue soaked up many different styles. Biographer, Kevin Moore, said of Lartigue that he understood how to capture the essence of a moment, playing and experimenting with his snapshots.

Lartigue's photographs overflow with energy and movement. Set beside the pictorialist masterpieces of the time, the difference is stark. The contemporary pastoral photographs of the pictorialists seem frozen in time, whereas Lartigue's snapshots seize the motion of leaping relatives, racing motor cars, and mischievous pets and spill with joyful, playful exuberance.

When Lartigue's boyhood photographs were discovered by the photographic world almost 50 years later, he was found to be a prototypical predecessor of many of the street photographers now considered masters today. His photography typified the cultural shift from the posed photographs of fine art photography of the time to the candid, kinetic moments that he captured.

The Vernacular

Though the Photo-Secession and The Linked Ring pushed photography towards the art world with great success, the explosion of amateur photography uncoupled what John Szarkowski later referred to as functional photography from fine art and offered photographers a different path. Vernacular photography, the term used to contrast many other manners of the use of photographs from that of fine art, may include journalistic, commercial, scientific, medical, forensic, clerical, administrative, or even, as Susan Sontag describes them in her essay, In Plato's Cave, snapshots as souvenirs of daily life.

As the small, handheld amateur cameras were developed into professional models - for instance, the Leica introduced by the Leitz Wetzlar company in 1924 - amateur photography led the way to a professional use of the vernacular. Photographers began to document wars, photojournalists recorded newsworthy events, and police photographers captured evidence of crime scenes. Portraits were made for official documents, mugshots were taken to identify criminals, and x-rays were exposed to identify broken bones. As Sontag continued in In Plato's Cave, to collect photographs is to collect the world, and among all of this, prototypical street photographers such as Walker Evans, Henri Cartier-Bresson, and André Kertész did just that.

Artists were contemptuous of the vernacular though its influence began to seep through. The painter Edgar Degas adopted the fragmentation of the photographic frame. In his 1874 painting, La Classe de Danse, he shows signs that his art was finding influence in photography. How the teacher leans on his cane, the contortion of the girl scratching her back, and the way elements are cut off by the frame are all things one may not have expected in an oil painting before the advent of photography. Later, Cartier-Bresson would find influence in the open form of Degas' paintings that would further inform his photographic compositions.

Vernacular photographers, whether amateur or professional, cultivated a strong aesthetic that has persisted and cemented itself in practice through the years. Though much vernacular was considered vulgar by fine art photographers, it had a regenerative effect on the practice. Like the novel replacing the epic poem, the vernacular succeeded pictorialism in what the Russian literary critic Viktor Shklovsky termed rebarbarization; a perceived vulgarity replacing a played-out art form. This alternative to art evolved and grew into the social documentary, photojournalism, and street photography that exists to this day.

The Rise of Street Photography

The visual language of street photography has evolved over many years and can trace its lineage not from the staged formality of the photographic studio or the fine art traditions of the pictorialists, but from the spontaneous and candid nature of the vernacular, particularly the snapshot craze. Like the snapshot, street photography often eschews the strict conventions of composition and incorporates the informal aspects of the vernacular. Strong street photography captured within the walls of a 35mm frame, whether mundane or brimming with interest, or whether anticipated or instinctual, makes a picture that echoes the energy and immediacy of the snapshot.

While photographing for Roy Stryker's Farm Security Administration, Walker Evans began to reassess the vernacular of snapshots and picture postcard photographs, noticing that mundane objects, scenes, and moments were often centred. He developed what he called the American vernacular and travelled the country making photographs that highlight the symbols and icons that defined the culture. Collected together, a number of these photographs became his acclaimed 1938 exhibition and book, American Photographs, a collection that was to have a profound effect on several street photographers who were to come after and cite Evans as a major influence.

One photographer who befriended Evans in the 1950s was the Swiss-born New Yorker, Robert Frank. In 1955, with the recommendation of Evans, Frank received a Guggenheim grant to travel across America and make photographs, a project that would spawn his seminal book, The Americans. Frank's photography in the 1950s took significant influence from Evans and from the vernacular tradition from which he emerged. His photographs channelled the raw, candid authenticity of snapshot photography to lay bare the stark contradictions of American society at a time of great change. So unflinching and erratic were his photographs, with their meaningless blur, grain, muddy exposures, drunken horizons and general sloppiness, that he received much criticism at the time, though of course now his photography is considered highly influential, especially to fellow New Yorker, Garry Winogrand.

The photography of Garry Winogrand borrows heavily from the candid aesthetic of the vernacular. Citing both Evans and Frank as instrumental in the development of his own style, his photography follows in the lineage of the snapshot. To watch Winogrand work, one could be forgiven for thinking he made his photographs without taking the time to compose through the viewfinder, however, he composed as the viewfinder travelled towards his eye and often tripped the shutter on arrival. His photography is characterised by his relentless pursuit to capture the energy the nervous energy of the street, an energy he shared. In his best pictures, Winogrand elevated the everyday moments found in the vernacular to breathtaking, profound visual statements and while he would claim a picture can't tell a story, the evidence of his work would seek to contradict him.

Legacy

Pictorialist Henry Peach Robinson once posed that the carefree snapshots of the Kodak revolution made photography almost a frivolous pursuit, and [caused] it to be included with amusements and recreations. To the pictorialists, snapshots were uncontrolled and unskilled. Art, this was not. In his elective classes at the University of Texas, however, street photographer Garry Winogrand would often assert that all things are photographable. One needs only to find the right answer to the question raised by the subject to make it a picture.

The snapshot aesthetic of the vernacular, with its lax adherence to composition, convention, and the po-faced solemnity of 19th-century artistic photography, opened the door to experimentation, play. Photographers working today, from Meyerowitz to Moriyama, owe the evolution of street photography, with its emphasis on the candid and the unposed, to the explosion of the vernacular brought about by the Kodak Revolution. There is an evident path tread from the circular snapshots of the early Kodak fiends through to the iconic 35mm works of the street photography masters. Its democratisation achieved by the marketing vision of George Eastman allowed photography to bifurcate into fine art and the vernacular. In street photography, the vernacular is elevated to an art form itself, that continues to captivate and inspire to this day.

Selected sources used for this essay include:

The BBC series The Genius of Photography (2007) and its accompanying book by Gerry Badger, Photography: A Cultural History (2002) by Mary Warner Marien, and On Photography (1977) by Susan Sontag.

Digest, December 2023

Much of December has been spent making photographs for Watch Docs, Warsaw’s premiere Human Rights film festival, and then writing my mammoth essay analysing street photography in 2023, before flying home to Scotland for Christmas. I hope that you will understand and forgive me if December 2023’s digest revisits articles from elsewhere, early in the life of Photos, mostly. Articles that most subscribers may not have yet discovered. Normal digest service will be resumed in January.

My 1st collection of street photography essays on my blog answered the what, why, where, who, and when of Street Photography.

• The 5 Ws of Street Photography

In March, for Shoot It With Film, I wrote a guide to making photographs using zone focusing.

• What Is Zone Focusing and How To Use It For Street Photography

Elliott Erwitt, acclaimed photographer and hero to many, including myself, passed away last month at the age of 95. Last year, I wrote a review of Adriana López Sanfeliu’s documentary on Erwitt’s life, Silence Sounds Good.

• Silence Sounds Good review on 35mmc.com

As the bombs continued to fall on Gaza, I attended a talk hosted by the Scottish BPoC Writers Network and Sumud Edinburgh. I wrote about some of the performance art discussed.

• Performance and Resistance

And finally, for December’s digest, a dip back into my blog’s archive for a look at my checkered history of writing Christmas songs.

• Christmas Music, Mostly

Some (Wintery) Photos

And Finally…

Have a happy new year, when it comes! Stay tuned for the next Dispatches email coming on the 10th of January.

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Photos, mostly and Dispatches are free to read, however, as of January, there will be additional monthly paid content. This year, I left corporate life and returned to school, so if you like what I do you can help me avoid a return to the daily grind. Please consider upgrading to a paid subscription or buying me a roll of film. You can do so by clicking here, or by aiming your smartphone camera at the QR code below.

I'm partial to some of that Tri-X 400 if you're asking. Thank you!

It would be fair to say that Charles Baudelaire had complex feelings on the matter of photography. Despite finding himself in front of Nadar's lens on several occasions, the great French poet and critic of modern art, writing on the cusp of romanticism and modernism, proclaimed that the photographic industry was the refuge of every would-be painter, every painter too ill-endowed or too lazy to complete his studies. In his essay On Photography, published in 1859, he was critical of its mechanical nature and contemptuous of its ubiquity, decrying a mad­ness, an extraordinary fanaticism [that] took possession of all these new sun-worshippers. His biggest criticism, however, was for the medium's precision. Such mechanical reproduction could not possibly be considered art.

A year later, in his acclaimed essay, The Painter of Modern Life, Baudelaire wrote further on the aesthetics of modernity and adopted an obscure journalist and illustrator reporting for the Illustrated London News as the personification of modern, visual art. Cast as the unnamed bohemian hero Monsieur G., for he humbly refused to be named, Constantin Guys had spent many years travelling the world as a reporter, and as a correspondent during the Crimean War. Baudelaire describes Monsieur G. in glowing, admiring terms and sets him as a flâneur, a wanderer, whose mainspring of his genius is curiosity. He is a passionate observer of the world, someone trained to study the world around him and distil it down to the wine of life.

The crowd is his domain, as the air is that of the birds, and the water the fishes. His passion, and profession, is to espouse the crowd. For the perfect flâneur, for the passionate observer, it is an immense joy to take up one’s dwelling among the multitude, amidst undulation, movement, the fugitive, the infinite.

- Charles Baudelaire. The Painter of Modern Life (1863).

It is this enigmatic portrayal of the flâneur that has been romanticised and passed down from 19th-century French life to today: The curious, aesthetically attuned and attentive spectator wandering amongst, though detached from, modern life. The connoisseur of the street.

Documents Pour Artistes

As one century marched with alacrity toward another, a middle-aged gentleman was walking the streets of Paris making photographs of the great city's boulevards and arcades. His calling card read E. Atget, Creator and Purveyor of a ‘Collection of Photographic Views of Old Paris.’ Earlier in life, Eugène Atget had spent time in the merchant navy before trying his hand at acting but eventually found his way to the camera. He began making documents, visual reference, of the city for artists. His love for the often hidden charm and beauty of the arrondissements and the life that populated them grew, and photographing the streets of the French capital became his raison d'être. As Vieux Paris was reshaped by systematic modernisation, Atget was consumed with the project of memorialising the pre-revolutionary neighbourhoods that were disappearing.

With his hat atop his head and engulfed in a black cloak, Atget would walk the streets of the city, his view camera carried by its tripod, slung over his shoulder. When something caught his attention, he would stop, set himself, and make a photograph. So varied was his work that archivists have split it into several categories and numerous subcategories: Picturesque Paris, Art in old Paris, Environs, Costumes, Interiors, and Paris Parks name but a few. In his tireless flânerie, Eugène Atget discovered the vibrant life that flowed through the arteries of Vieux Paris. His, often surreal, photographs would present the viewer with shop windows through which mannequins may peer, purveyors of small trades selling their wares, and prostitutes marking time in doorways. In short, it may be argued that Atget the flâneur was the forerunner of surrealist photography and the prototypical street photographer.

The Modern Flâneur

The street photographer then, in any of its modern guises, has its roots in the not-so-bygone social character of the 19th-century flâneur. Whether it was Henri Cartier-Bresson walking the roads of Europe and Asia, Helen Levitt or Garry Winogrand on the streets of New York, Daido Moriyama in Tokyo, or Peter Turnley among others in modern-day Paris, the street photographer is the modern explorer of the cityscape, attentive eyes wide open, rapt in curiosity.

In Melancholy Objects, the 3rd essay in Susan Sontag's collection On Photography, she asserts that the photographer is an armed version of the solitary walker. Armed with a rangefinder, a medium format, or an SLR, the street photographer wanders in public spaces, a landscape of voluptuous extremes, observing with searching eyes, attuned to the rhythms and undulations of life on the street. Sontag goes on: Adept of the joys of watching, connoisseur of empathy, the flâneur finds the world ‘picturesque’. That, to me, could be the very dictionary definition of a street photographer.

To step expectantly into the rushing river of life on the street, an aimless, though hopeful, stroll across city squares, down busy streets, and through hidden walkways, is the optimistic mark of the street photographer. To be alone and yet simultaneously be surrounded by others. Whether in the photographer's home city or one far away, like the flâneur, the street photographer is happy to walk and watch with patience and interest. Not only to watch but to see. As Baudelaire suggested, [t]o be absent from home and yet feel oneself everywhere at home; to view the world, to be at the heart of the world, and yet hidden from the world, [...] one who understands the world and the mysterious and legitimate reasons for its many behaviours.

The Flâneurial Gaze

Even before I picked up a camera, for most of my adult life, when I would visit a new city, I would put my earphones in, some music on, and walk around. Not a conscious effort to get lost, but a lack of concern for keeping my bearings. In Doha, in 2012 during a hiatus from photography, I left the hotel and didn't return for 5 hours, so fascinated was I of life on this new continent. People-watching is a pastime many partake in whether they name it or not. There is a simple pleasure in just watching. Looking. Anticipating what may develop. Telling oneself the story of the people that pass by. In his writing, Walter Benjamin considered whether the flâneur, a figure keenly aware of the bustle of modern life, can enjoy the aimlessness of their existence or, in our modern capitalist world, must there be a product. Is the street photographer an unconscious answer to this need for productivity? The romantic thinks not. The artist hopes that the desire to tack on an aim to the aimlessness is nothing but an innate impulse toward creativity.

Benjamin's flâneur walks out their door as if [they've] just arrived from a foreign country, and as they do so Baudelaire's watches the river of life in its flow, so majestic, so brilliant. Atget's successors do so with a camera in their hands, delighting, as Baudelaire puts it, in universal life. To notice then, as a street photographer, is to gaze at the world through the eyes of a flâneur. Constantin Guys was an illustrator and thus free from the rules, regulations and constraints of the Académie française. Strictly held laws of art didn't apply to the way in which he could depict the world. The modern flâneurs of, for instance, Garry Winogrand and Robert Frank, however unconsciously, threw aside the expectations and conventions of photographic academia to show the world that they saw in the manner in which they saw it, drunken horizons and all. Winogrand, of course, photographed the world to see what it look[ed] like photographed.

To be a flâneur is to be a street photographer is to be a flâneur. To walk among the crowd but to be separate from it. To be curious and open to chance and what may be discovered. To wander aimlessly but with aim, and see the city as a stage for all the human drama, comedy, and tragedy that may occur on its boards. To pay attention and notice small gestures, emotions, and expressions that hint towards an authentic, if fleeting, moment. Quick to react. 1/500th of a second then it's gone. In short, to be a flâneur, to be a street photographer, is to hold on to that fascination and empathy for life outside our door.

So what do you think? Are you a flâneur or a flâneuse? Do you enjoy walking a town or city with manifest curiosity? Let me know in the comments.

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Digest, November 2023

An integral tool found in the great toolbox of street photographers is anticipation. Learning to notice not only what is around but what may transpire is how many great photographs are made.

• The Importance of Anticipation

With the absence of an article for Shoot It With Film this month (stay tuned for January’s mammoth review of the Leica M3), I wrote about the importance of practice and exercise in street photography.

• On Practice

For almost 2 months I have followed the Polish-Palestinian protests against the genocide and ethnic cleansing occurring in Gaza. These are some of my photos. With some dismay, I expect this will be part 1 of several.

• Free Palestine! Part. 1

While turning it over in my head, a quote by the great modernist author DH Lawrence sparked the basis for my latest Top 5 article.

• Top 5 Street Photography Quotes

I return to my semi-regular series, continuing to watch the 100 greatest British movies of the 20th century as chosen by the British Film Institute.

• 82: Distant Voices, Still Lives

Some Photos

And Finally…

Stay tuned for the next Dispatches email coming on the 13th of December.

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After last month’s postponement, the inaugural, annual Street Photography State of the Union will be published on the 20th of December. After taking advice from several writers, it will be my first content that will require a paid subscription. There will be much more in the new year.

I’d be very grateful if you would subscribe to or share Photos, mostly. Sharing with 1 or 2 friends who enjoy street photography really will help more than you may think.

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If you’re a Substack writer and enjoy this publication, I’d be more than humbled if you would consider recommending Photos, mostly to your subscribers.

This newsletter is free to read, however, this year I left corporate life and returned to school, so if you like what I do, please consider upgrading to a paid subscription or buying me a roll of film. You can do so by clicking here, or by aiming your smartphone camera at the QR code below.

I'm partial to some of that Tri-X 400 if you're asking. Thank you!

I have heard many times that the road to hell is paved with good intentions but my own particular highway is instead pockmarked with the potholes of projects, plans, essays, and ideas that life doesn't gift me time enough to finish. The 12th and final essay of my 1st year of this Photos, mostly newsletter was intended to be the 1st of an annual series, a State of the Union of Street Photography. So much has been written of late that we have killed street photography (nonsense), or that street photography must evolve with the times (worth considering), or that a new generation has done so already (debatable, in the most sincere sense). It seemed compelling, and certainly relevant, to pull the many threads together and assess where street photography stands in 2023, then do so towards the end of 2024 and off into the future.

Of course, as my gran would often warn me when I was younger, your eyes are bigger than your stomach, son, and indeed I bit off more than I could chew. With schoolwork, time with my partner, reading, photography, and writing all wrestling for my time, Spider-Man 2 on PS5, for instance, has no chance. I left it too late, then, to give the essay I had planned the time and consideration it deserves. Instead, I will publish an additional issue in November, so my State of the Union of Street Photography will appear 1 week before November's regularly scheduled issue.

This month, in lieu of an essay, I will lay out my goals for Photos, mostly for the next year but before that, I chose to write something a touch more personal.

What Street Photography Has Taught Me About Me

I returned to street photography in what I later discovered was a post-lockdown mental health crisis that shook my life like a snow globe and let the glitter fall as it may. Suffice it to say that leaving music behind to pick up a camera again was a surprise even to me. Nevertheless, it has indelibly drawn the direction of my life since. 3 years have passed and I have shot over 300 rolls of film, learned essential lessons from 2 master street photographers, made some great photographs (and some terrible ones, too) left corporate life, returned to school, and started this newsletter. Though I'm sure therapy played its part, through street photography I now appreciate who I am as a creative person, with a renewed confidence and self-assuredness that was missing in my last days in music. I wonder then what street photography has taught me about myself in the post-pandemic years.

Help the Aged

Approaching my 40s, I had experienced an unconscious, self-inflicted shame of being a middle-aged musician starting again with a new band. Pop culture doesn't look kindly on that trope. The man-child boyfriend of the main character. He’s in a band in his 40s, confident he can still make it. I prayed not to be that guy. Leaving music behind to turn back to photography, which has no evident comparable stigma, I became more comfortable with ageing. I’m still not delighted with the ever-higher hairline, but the grey beginning to pepper my beard is not unwelcome. A pressure valve has been released and the panic of time elapsing has lessened. I felt no flicker of uncertainty and no shame or embarrassment returning to school in my 40s to study photography. In fact, being 44 years old with a student discount has been a delight. Getting older as a photographer certainly doesn't mean finding myself over the hill. As long as I can stay healthy and ambulatory, street photography offers an enduring, satisfying creative practice, one that I adore, for many years to come.

On Mental Health

In my interview with Kathryn Vercillo in her Create Me Free publication, we discussed how both music and photography have affected my mental health and how it influences how and why I create. It's a candid, honest interview about my struggles with mental health and creativity and I am very proud of it. The most crucial lesson street photography has taught me over the last 36 months is that despite passing as an extrovert, I am undeniably introverted and create with much more ease on my own. In the interview, I discussed how through therapy, the pandemic, and beginning to photograph again helped me realise and accept this. For more, I recommend the interview in full.

A Ruthless Editor

Though I learned many things from my time with master street photographers Richard Kalvar and Bruce Gilden, last year; the strongest lesson I took was to photograph more and to be brutal in my edit. Since then, I have become an uncompromising, critical editor of my own work and that of others. I believe that being tough in an edit is what sets a good street photographer apart from the average. I have learned to trust my instinct for what is strong work, and quickly identify bad. I am told, however, that I can be too severe in editing my own work, and photographs good enough for consideration are perhaps unfairly rejected out of hand. In good humour, I dismiss it as perfectionism but I suspect it is a deeper need to keep my imposter syndrome quiet.

To Learn and Improve

A harsh edit results in more than a little critical evaluation of my own work. A successful roll of film may give my rapacious ego a stroke, while a bad day's photography brings the sullen cloud cover of self-doubt and disappointment. Either way, my instinctive response is to question how I might improve the photograph were I to make it again. while relentless critical evaluation of my own mediocre, rejected photographs can be exhausting (give yourself a break, my partner will tell me) I am confident it is the way I best set my current level and strive to further learn and improve. That desire to get a little better, every day, is as greedy as my ego. (Almost, she chimes in, again.)

On Ethics

Something difficult to miss, returning to street photography after over a decade, has been the change in attitudes to the practice both from photographers and readers alike. Ethics are an oft-raised topic of conversation, as is the right to privacy. I often compare my practice in my 40s to that of the impetuous, impulsive street photographer of my 20s. I still advocate and practise candid street photography and, for authenticity, in most circumstances though not all, it is better to seek forgiveness than ask permission. When the intention behind making the photograph is sincere and honest, and it is made with empathy, there is no shame in it. There are circumstances, however, where I have found my awareness and my ethics have shifted. For my younger self, anything was fair game. Now older, wiser, and more aware, I think more about gender and power dynamics, I question my biases and whether I am othering subjects, and I consider the lives of those that I photograph. Regular reevaluation of these things helps to draw a set of moral and ethical lines within which I feel comfortable working, however, I feel that sticking to 1 simple rule keeps me on the right path: Don't be a dick.

Photos, mostly in 2024

The 1st year of Photos, mostly has exceeded any expectations I had when I made what I believed at the time to be a quixotic decision to stop posting on social media and come over to Substack. I brought with me 30-odd subscribers, some photographs, and abundant enthusiasm. 1 year on and I'm close to breaking 500 subscribers, I have had warm, positive, heartfelt encouragement for my writing (particularly after the aforementioned interview with Kathryn Vercillo), and much glowing praise for my photography too. You guys!

While not everyone who subscribes to Photos, mostly is a Substack user I do want to take a moment to give special mention to the side of Substack that I've been fortunate to find myself a part of. It has been a joy to become more involved in Substack Notes and on Chat. I'm tempted to tag everyone that has made an impact on me in these last months but there'd be no room for anything else. Nevertheless, you know who you are, and thank you.

what of the future, then? In 2023, I selected the topics of my essays on the philosophy or practice of street photography month by month. Therein lies the danger of finding myself overwhelmed or fighting a deadline. For the coming year, topics have already been chosen. I'll have a lot of fun researching and writing about street photography through the lenses of play, cultural identity, politics, activism, gender dynamics, social commentary, psychology, and many others. I'm excited to see where it takes us. I will, of course, continue to add a digest of my writing elsewhere, and show more of my photographs.

A surprise of the last year has been the response to my offshoot monthly Dispatches email. I've enjoyed curating photography news, Substack article picks, and my pop-culture recommendations, what I didn't expect was how well-received they would be. Thank you! Dispatches will continue into 2024.

As Photos, mostly has grown I have been encouraged to write more, so often in fact that I have had to remind myself that my priority is photography first, writing after. Nevertheless, though the monthly essays and Dispatches emails will always be free, in the new year I will begin adding content for paid subscribers. I have a list of ideas, collaborations, features, and series that runs to over 3 pages - the problem will be choosing which to publish!

In short, I'm fizzing with excitement for the next year of Photos, mostly and I hope you will all be with me as October 2024 comes to an end.

Thank you so much for all your support!

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A Wee Word About Photostack

A few months ago, finding that Substack didn't offer a dedicated Photography category, I took matters into my own hands and created Photostack, a small initiative to build an index of photography accounts on the platform. The Photostack tenet was that a rising tide lifts all boats and by promoting one another, we all reach a wider audience. It began as a simple Note (think Tweet, non-Substack folks) then became an annotated Google Sheet. At the time of writing it is 82 writers strong and growing.

Photostack isn't mine, it belongs to all its members. I'm just the janitor. In the next year, I would like to build this blooming index of photographers and photography writers into something of a community. In the future, I hope to encourage collaboration and cooperation within the group. Maybe published correspondence, certainly highlighting great photography. Maybe collaborative bodies of work, possibly even an annual meet-up. I have many ideas and I'm sure the community has a great number too.

If you are a subscriber to Photos, mostly and haven't explored the wealth of other photography and photography writing available on Substack then Photostack is a great place to start.

Digest, October 2023

2 weeks before the contentious general election in Poland, the people took to the streets of Warsaw in support of democracy.

• The March of a Million Hearts

In the Un/Taken interview series, on Marcel Borgstijn’s Darkrooms Substack, I wrote about a photograph I didn’t take and one that surprised me when I did.

• Darkrooms. Un/Taken episode 10. Neil Milton

In Shoot It With Film, this month, I wrote about my love of, and the great pleasure one can feel from, photographing dogs in the street.

• How to Photograph Dogs

With some fondness, I reminisced on my time as one half of a Glaswegian mixed-media art collaboration as the naughts came to an end.

• We Sink Ships

In my latest Top 5s article, I build on a recent photography assignment at school and consider what are my favourite examples of album sleeve art.

• Top 5 Record Covers

Some Photos

And Finally…

Stay tuned for the next Dispatches email coming on the 8th of November and the Street Photography State of the Union on the 22nd of November.

I’d be very grateful if you would subscribe to or share Photos, mostly. I am only 29 subscribers from reaching my stretch goal of subscribers for the year, so sharing with 1 or 2 friends who enjoy street photography really will help more than you may think.

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If you’re a Substack writer and enjoy this publication, I’d be more than humbled if you would consider recommending Photos, mostly to your subscribers.

This newsletter is free to read, however, this year I left corporate life and returned to school, so if you like what I do, please consider upgrading to a paid subscription or buying me a roll of film. You can do so by clicking here, or by aiming your smartphone camera at the QR code below.

I'm partial to some of that Tri-X 400 if you're asking. Thank you!

You miss 100% of the shots you don't take. This well-worn epigram is attributed to the Canadian ice-hockey legend, Wayne Gretzky (or, maybe, Michael Scott.) Though it has been flogged to death by linked-influencers and insufferable evangelists of the grindset, the droll truism nevertheless retains value, and we street photographers should bear it in mind.

What causes reluctance is different in every shot missed, however, a common rationale is that one was not open enough, not quite ready to make the picture. Opportunities squandered, then, by a failure to notice or impeded by distraction. More than once I have found myself on the street, camera in hand and yet, hindered by a loss of focus, a drop in confidence, the aftermath of a confrontation, or too much on my mind. I often reflect on the shots missed as a result.

In interviews and masterclasses, Brooklyn-born, Paris-dwelling street photographer Richard Kalvar talks of the French word disponible as a state of mind important to his practice - in his words, a necessary state for taking good pictures. It is a mindset within which the street photographer can be at their most receptive to the unknown, and benefit from the photographic riches that offers.

A Definition

Disponible is an adjective defined by the Larousse Dictionnaire as describing something available which one can dispose of. Think, for instance, of disposable income, free time, or rooms available in a hotel. Further down the dictionary's short list of définitions, however, there is the phrase Qui est accueillant aux idées les plus diverses: Un esprit disponible. An available mind. Quite. Using this definition, then, and looking beyond the literal translation to a more esoteric, colloquial use, allows the word to define an open state of mind of someone emotionally available and receptive to the unforeseeable.

The Disponible Street Photographer

Despite claims to the contrary, most often by those with little experience or good judgement, street photography is not easy. Making good work can be tough and is made more difficult when one is distracted. Minds wandering through the sinking quicksand of quotidian worries such as bills, chores, arguments, irritations, or even just what's for dinner, are sure to miss those subtle, unpredictable moments that make for the best street photography. Shedding these diversions and concentrating on the world around, being mentally and emotionally open to the unpredictable, can take some experience but as with most creative labours, it becomes easier with practice.

How to be Disponible

To be open, available, and ready to photograph whatever the world may throw at us, a crucial, practical step is to have the camera in hand. If an implausible, remarkable thing occurs, the camera is of no use buried deep in a backpack. The frantic scramble to extricate it from its hiding place, as the frame disappears may be worthy of itself being snapped. Whether nipping over to the shops or stepping out the door for a long day of street photography, my camera is thrown over my left shoulder as I would a tote bag in my younger days as a music-biz hipster. Learning lessons from the past, the lens cap comes off before I even cross the threshold.

If the bag feels light having been deprived of a camera, then may I humbly suggest replacing the absent weight with headphones? Though some may lose themselves in music as they work, more often than not, this melodious blanket of noise covers the sounds of the city that may signal something worth photographing. Worse still are the podcasts. How can one be alert and observant when desperate to learn who indeed did commit that cold-case murder? Open and attentive it is not.

This is, however, an essay about a state of mind, about cultivating a balance of the head and the heart to remain open to possibility even in the face of a difficult day. It starts with experience, of course. The more street photography we practice the more adept we will be in finding our focus. The first time we take to the street, camera around our neck, everything is new and can be overwhelming. The hundredth time, the thousandth, breeds confidence and gifts us literal and figurative muscle memory. To relax is to loosen up and to loosen up is to open ourselves to the unforeseen. Where once we may have been slow on the shutter to capture a furtive glance between strangers, now we are disponible and can anticipate the moment.

There is no obvious shortcut to this photographic mindfulness. A combination of curiosity, empathy, and experience helps develop a photographer's eye. Through exposure to the work of the pantheon of street photography masters, through looking for the human connection, regular practice, and with reluctance, reflecting on the seemingly relentless, torrential failure that comes with getting good, we will begin to see the extraordinary in the everyday. Patterns, juxtapositions, gestures, expressions, and peculiar little dramas will present themselves in ways we may have overlooked before.

Inexperience tempts us to shut down ideas out of hand in the confident belief that they have been done before. It takes practice to avoid judgment or fear of cliches and anticipate the possibilities that may arise from them. Too often have I rolled my eyes at a scene, thinking I've seen it all before, only to get closer and see, much too late, an unusual or wry element that elevates an unimaginative scene into something special.

Disponible and The Unconscious

Henri Cartier-Bresson was an avowed surrealist. His friendship with André Breton, the author of the Surrealist Manifesto, taught him much about allowing the unconscious to come to the surface. He would talk of his photographic practice as allowing the photographic lens to look into the rubble of [his] unconscious and of chance. His camera, a combination of the psychiatrist's couch, a machine gun and a warm kiss. As we become more comfortable in our own practice on the street, our open-mindedness and readiness to notice may be less calculation and more intuition. Often a scene will play out, manifest, in front of us and we need only be there to make the photograph. At other times, our experience teaches us to be sensitive to possibility. Our instinct hints that something may happen, often giving us the possibility to play with the very idea of what is real.

A Necessary State to Make Good Photographs

A disponible state of mind, then, allows us to be more open to read situations without distraction, and to see possible developments in interaction. To anticipate the release of a moment of tension, or conversely to feel the calm before the storm and pre-empt the moment to photograph as it happens. We see the many possibilities of things developing. When open and available, we are less distracted by what we see and more prepared to make an engaging photograph.

So, do you feel open and available when you are out photographing, or do you get distracted? Have you missed a significant shot by not being aware and ready? Maybe the concept of being a disponible street photographer sounds like nonsense? Let me know in the comments.

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Digest, September 2023

In street photography, we make photographs without permission not to avoid accountability, but instead to capture the scene as we see it, unbothered by the presence of the camera. Here are some well-worn approaches to getting closer without being seen or confronted.

• Techniques for Candid Street Photography

After the success of my recent Required Reading for Street Photographers article, I followed it up with another 5 books that I would recommend.

• More Recommended Reading for Street Photographers

Scotland’s national football team met England at Hampden earlier this month for a match to celebrate the 150th anniversary of the first international football meeting. Despite Scotland being on a generational high, predictably England came away the victors. Before that, I dug out and updated an article written during the 2012 European Championships.

• Anyone But England (Redux)

I keep plugging away at my semi-regular series, continuing to watch the 100 greatest British movies of the 20th century as chosen by the British Film Institute.

• 85: Brassed Off | 84: Educating Rita | 83: Darling

Some Photos

And Finally…

Stay tuned for the next Dispatches email coming on the 11th of October.

I’d be very grateful if you could subscribe or share Photos, mostly to any street photography-loving friends. It really does help more than you would think.

Subscribe now

If you’re a Substack writer and enjoy this publication, I’d be more than humbled if you would consider recommending Photos, mostly to your subscribers.

This newsletter is free to read, however, this year I left corporate life and returned to school, so if you like what I do, please consider upgrading to a paid subscription or buying me a roll of film. You can do so by clicking here, or by aiming your camera at the QR code below.

I'm partial to some of that Tri-X 400 if you're asking. Thank you!

If you want to see the invisible, carefully observe the visible

- Manuel Álvarez Bravo

As a seasoned street photographer wading into the wine-dark waters of photography criticism, I have clung to the passing driftwood of methods helpful in better understanding pictures. Not only a source of insight and fascination, learning to read photography is also a lot of fun. As I continue to show photographs here, both my own and of others, I thought it may be helpful to pause and consider how to read a photograph.

Academic criticism of photography is often split across 4 practices that inform and bleed into one another. A critic will engage in describing, interpreting, evaluating, and theorising. These are often transposed to seeing, feeling, and thinking. To describe a photograph, we must see the picture in detail and in its entirety. Interpreting and evaluating the picture asks us how we both think and feel about the photograph. For the most part, theorising sets aside how we feel and asks us to think further, to answer the question, is this art?

To read a photograph and better understand it, we may pay particular attention to describing and interpreting.

Describing

Detail

To describe a photograph is to consider what we see. What is clear and apparent within the frame? Who or what is the subject? Where does the scene take place? Are there supporting characters or elements providing context to the subject? Take note of each detail within the frame and consider what part they may play in the overall scene then step back and view the picture as a whole.

Composition and Form

Assess the composition and form of the photograph. What compositional rules have been followed? The rule of thirds perhaps, or strong diagonals? Is it symmetrical or has the photographer composed with the golden ratio? Take note of the formal elements of line, shape, texture, and colour. How has light and space been used? What is the tonal quality? Is there a strong or muted contrast?

Technical and Stylistic Choices

Has the photographer made clear stylistic or technical choices? Does shallow depth of field emphasise the subject, or does wide depth show a scene playing out? Has the shutter speed frozen time, or was it slow enough to show the bustle of motion on the street? Is the photograph 35mm or medium format? Is there an unusual crop? Consider if the photograph is part of an artistic movement or a clear example of a style of photography. Was the picture made in a particular era?

Context

As we describe a photograph it may be helpful to look for further context. Who made the work? Consider their influences and resulting style. What was the photographer's intent? In what social, historical, or political times was the photograph made? How has the work been printed or presented? Taking a photograph out of its original context will alter our reading. Is it, for instance, a war photograph on the wall of an art gallery or a mug shot found in the pages of a zine?

Interpreting

To better understand a photograph, a reader should move beyond description and seek to explore its meaning. One could compare it to another work, or attempt to read it from a stylistic perspective. A reader may look at a photograph through a feminist lens, or choose instead to study it for semiotic significance. There are numerous interpretive approaches and each may be combined with another.

We interpret a photograph by presenting an argument, whether to others or oneself, of what the picture conveys. A photograph may be read in radically different ways. Many interpretations begin with how a photograph makes us feel, however, for a reading to withstand debate or scrutiny, it must be supported by evidence and held with an open mind.

How Does it Feel?

Elation, amusement, concern, disgust, or any number of other emotional reactions may come from reading a photograph. Recognising how the picture makes us feel, and why, is a common first step in interpreting a photo. Consider what it would feel like to be the subject. How would we experience their situation? Is the photograph sincerely expressing this emotion or are we being manipulated?

Our lived experiences inform how we interpret a picture. We may opt to recognise one bias but ignore another. We may organise objects within the frame in unconscious hierarchy, classifying and ascribing importance to some over others based on how we experience the world. As we interpret a photograph, if we can not remove these predispositions, it is important to acknowledge them.

Intentions

While reverie of what might have been is tempting, it is rarely supportive of interpretation and so we should interpret the picture in front of us. A photographer's intent can be difficult to decipher. Often the photographer themself will struggle to express an intention, in particular those who, to borrow a phrase from Cartier-Bresson, search through the rubble of their subconscious.

Giving undue importance to intent weakens interpretation. Intent can distract and impair the effort to understand the photograph. The intention of the photographer should not be ignored, but instead considered as a part of a wider interpretation. As with any other interpretation, it should be sensible and backed with apparent evidence.

What Does it Mean?

In Rhetoric of the Image (1964) Roland Barthes posits that photographs denote and connote. They show and imply. On the surface, the interpretation of a photograph may be obvious and seem clear, but a deeper examination of the content may imply further meaning. When reading a photograph it's rewarding to look past the literal not to miss the figurative, allegorical, or analogical meaning. The reader should seek to understand the sense of the photograph while contextualising the information gathered by describing the picture. What do the elements of the photograph show and imply? How should we understand them?

As photographers, however unconsciously, the photographs we make will reflect our culture and the values we hold. Readers of photography are no different. Meaning will be informed by knowledge of these beliefs and from past interpretations made by others. To this extent, understanding a photograph is a team sport.

A Final Bête Noire

My own particular bête noire is a poor photograph masked by the photographer bestowing upon it unconvincing intention or an interpretation with all the substance of a homoeopathic remedy. Their hope is to hoodwink the reader, however, one would hope they are seen for what they are, photographic snake oil salesmen.

An interpretation should be consistent with what is seen and what is known of the photograph. It must be sensible, realistic, and demonstrated. A convincing interpretation can be revealing or meaningful, however, straining for meaning not represented in the picture results in an implausible, unlikely interpretation that can be easily dismissed.

Though I will certainly expand on this topic in the future, for a deeper dive into the many approaches of interpretation, methods of evaluation, and how to theorise, I can recommend the chief source for this issue, the excellent Criticizing Photographs: An Introduction to Understanding Images (1990) by Professor Terry Barrett of Ohio State University, a well-thumbed copy of which sits on my desk as I write.

Reading and understanding photographs. What do you think? Are these useful things to consider? Have I just opened another rabbit hole for you to fall down or is it all just pseudo-academic fluff? Let me know in the comments.

Leave a comment

Digest, August 2023

Discussions on Substack's Notes feature are proving to be fruitful sparks for articles on my website. This month, I was moved to write about expression, emotion and photographing faces.

• The Art of Photographing Faces

Spending hours every day on the move making street photography can grow tiresome for one’s feet. It’s important to choose the right footwear.

• On Wearing Good Shoes

On Shoot It With Film this month, I wrote about making street photography among parades and protests and offered some tips.

• Street Photography in Large Crowds

Returning to my now monthly Top 5s series we shuffle back over to music and I choose my top 5 concert movies.

• Top 5 Tour Films

I continue my semi-regular series, continuing to watch the 100 greatest British movies of the 20th century as chosen by the British Film Institute.

• 88: A Hard Day’s Night | 87: Women in Love | 86: Genevieve

Kathryn Vercillo, author of The Artist’s Mind and writer of the Create Me Free newsletter, interviewed me on the topic of Art and Mental Health. It should be published in the next week or 2. If you’re interested, you should subscribe to Kathryn’s newsletter.

• Create Me Free newsletter

Some Photos

And Finally…

Stay tuned for the next Dispatches email coming on the 13th of September.

I’d be very grateful if you could subscribe or share Photos, mostly to any street photography-loving friends. It really does help more than you would think.

Subscribe now

If you’re a Substack writer and enjoy this publication, I’d be more than humbled if you would consider recommending Photos, mostly to your subscribers.

This newsletter is free to read, however, I've recently left corporate life and returned to school, so if you like what I do, please consider buying me a roll of film. You can do so by clicking here, or by aiming your camera at the QR code below.

I'm partial to some of that Tri-X 400 if you're asking. Thank you!

Someone sang a song and I sang along / Cause I knew the words from my childhood

- Nobody's Empire - Belle and Sebastian

It was a photograph of a McDonalds. An enormous blow-up Ronald sitting outside like some inebriated fairytale troll fallen on hard times. Seen through critical eyes it was a notable if not great photograph, and yet there it hung, among many others of varying quality, on the walls of Muzeum Warszawy in Warsaw. This was an exhibition of street, documentary, and vernacular photography from the 1990s and the scene in this unassuming photograph, despite seeming commonplace now, was then unprecedented. In 1992, 3 years after the fall of communism, this was the opening of the first McDonalds in Poland. The symbolism spills from the frame.

I enjoyed my slow drift through the exhibition though the pictures offered a spark of something more to my partner's Polish eyes. Recollections of long-removed kiosks, fond memories of trundling old trams, wistful smiles at the nascent western fashion replacing outmoded communist era clothing. I was curious if Marta would share the same experience of photographs of Glasgow. She found Depardon's photographs of the city absorbing, not least because, unlike most of the photographs I show her, they were in colour. It was, however, my childhood memories of the city in the 1980s that tinged my own reading of the photographs with that dewy morning mist of a feeling, nostalgia.

Nostalgia and Historical Memory

Memory of past places, events, and experiences build a shared story within a group, whether a circle of friends, or a nation. We remember, and share those memories with others and in doing so an interpretation of local, national, or international history is formed, shaping our identity, culture, and values. Seen through the mirror of nostalgia, collective memory can be capricious. Interpretations are subjective. A place I remember with fondness, Marta may have had a contrasting experience.

As a Scottish emigrant to Poland, I'm a dear pal to Johaness Hofer's 17th century definition of nostalgia. As Clay Routledge describes, it is the pain caused by the desire to return to one’s native land. I do often find myself misty-eyed with romantic notions of Scotland: Lochs, hills, music, and the fruity chemistry of my beloved Irn-Bru. In time, what is meant by nostalgia has evolved and been reshaped into what research has shown is a concept, universally understood. In her 1987 essay, The Psychology of Nostalgia, Hatice Aydan Kaplan called nostalgia a saddening farewell to childhood [...] or a longing for a past forever lost. Nostalgia is a fond memory tinged with longing of a time or place gone by. It is often sensory. When we hear, smell, taste, or see something that is a reminder of the past, yearning nostalgic reverie may follow.

Collective Memory

Like the plastic arts that came before, the video that followed, or the current influencer-led content boom of social media, street photography has played a significant role in shaping collective memory and our cultural identity. It continues to do so. By capturing life happening around them, sometimes by design and often by the way, the photographer documents their contemporaneous world.

Street photography teaches us how to read and understand our recent cultural history. To the photographer, the picture illustrates the present and to the reader, it represents symbols of the past. Fashion, transport, technology, signage, and the urban landscape caught in the periphery of 1/125th of a second are all emblematic of a shared history in the public space.

Urban spaces brim with political and social meaning. In Depardon's work, old shop signage, derelict areas, and empty cans of Tennent's place the readers in the grim poverty of early Thatcherite Glasgow. Behind the moments captured in Martin Parr's transcendent work, The Last Resort, the symbols of haircuts, old cars, and swimsuits evoke memories of working class seaside summer holidays later in that same decade.

Social Change and Cultural Shifts

In the exhibition in Warsaw, respected names such as Niedenthal, Hartwig, and Musialówna are represented, however many of the pictures are from others less known. Street photographers were responsible for making a record of such a pivotal time in the country's history and have continued to do so, photographing parades, protests, and demonstrations in the last 10 years that will comprise collective memory in the decades to come.

One wonders what the next generation will make of the street photography made during our recent social upheaval. What will our photographs show of the empty streets, the masks and face-coverings, the doorstep support for the NHS, the conspiracy theory madness, and the long, slow return? What is certain is that street photography will be integral to the collective memory of that time and will inform future understanding of the global pandemic.

Of course, collective memory is not only formed by epochal events or national trauma. It can be slow, steady, and happen over a number of years. Bernice Abbott documented great social change in 1930s New York, and the great flaneur Eugène Atget photographed old Paris during its 20th century modernisation. Walking a city's streets is integral to record its changing nature. It shows, as Susan Sontag put it, how we, and the city age. Depardon photographed an uninviting Glasgow in 1980 and Elliott Erwitt photographed a more affluent yet still socially eccentric Glasgow in 2012. Both tell a story of Glasgows that I have experienced and both evoke very different feelings.

An Agent of Nostalgia

Our street photography is a time-capsule. With such facility for provoking collective memories of the past, it is no wonder street photography evokes such personal nostalgia in photographers and readers alike. It is subjective familiarity that connects readers to their past. The photography we make as street photographers today is not inherently nostalgic but as the years pass, elements found within the frame may prove nostalgic to readers. When friends or acquaintances doubt the ethical, or moral merit of street photography, I often frame it in this way. Those sepia-tinged Facebook posts they like of Lost Glasgow, or the Instagram account of London in the 1960s? In 30 or 40 years, online denizens may look back on our photography with that same warm hazy glow.

In Craig Semetko's book, Unposed, there is a photograph of 2 women chatting, sitting on a wall in front of a street food vendor as others queue for food. Unremarkable, you may think, save for the heads of the couple, each shrouded in a large paper eyeball. A wry, comic image that evokes considerable nostalgia in me. I recognise Edinburgh, immediately. This photograph was taken at the Edinburgh Festival in 2005, 1 year before I made my first tentative photographic steps at the same festival and I remember that very street food van. I know that wall. Somewhere, on a long-forgotten folder on my hard drive, I have a similar photograph, without the eyeballs, of course. Nostalgia is subjective and different elements evoke the feeling based on our backgrounds and experiences, however, street photography preserves the essence of generations past, much that is universal to all.

Footsteps

In 1951, Cartier-Bresson stood on the Pont des Arts and took a superlative picture of Ile de la Cité. It is one of my favourite photographs. In 2009, I stood in his footsteps to take the same picture, doing so again last year. I looked on Cartier-Bresson's Ile de la Cité with such nostalgia long before I ever stood on the bridge. Feelings of nostalgia can arise for a time long before you were born, or a place you have never visited. Exposure to books, movies, television, or music can synthesise experiences that in turn evoke nostalgia from elements of street photography. Without being aware, my affection for Paris may have grown through the music of Messiaen, the cinema of La Nouvelle Vague, or - more likely - Hugo's Les Miserables.

Street photography itself can precipitate wistful nostalgia from other street photography. Cartier-Bresson's photographs of Paris seared themselves so completely into my memory that the more contemporary Parisian photographs of Richard Kalvar feel like a warm, affectionate greeting from an old friend.

The Archive

To inform collective memory, or indeed inspire a sense of nostalgia, the photography has to be seen, and there are many organisations worldwide dedicated to preserving historical street photography. Much of it found in well-thumbed books in the photography sections of book shops or libraries are from the masters. One doesn't need to travel far to find the books of Cartier-Bresson, Winogrand, Erwitt, et al. These are only a fraction of the street photographers available to readers with the will to find more. In Scotland, for instance, there is the National Library of Scotland's photographic archive, the British National Archive's collection, and the National Museum of Scotland's Scottish Life Archive. Widening the scope to Britain as a whole, and online, there is the treasure trove that is the British Cultural Archive.

Modern art galleries and photographic institutes around the world, including MoMA in New York, The Met, and ICP have extensive street photography collections to view, while agencies such as Magnum keep comprehensive archives of their members' work. Photographers themselves often found organisations to archive their work and support others: The Martin Parr Foundation, and Fondation Henri Cartier-Bresson are but 2.

Retromania: New Nostalgia

In Simon Reynolds book, Retromania, he explores our obsession with all things retro through the lens of music and the wider realm of pop-culture. In reading this book, I kept returning to thoughts of the last decade of visual social media. Before Instagram, there was an early mobile app named Hipstamatic. A camera app with film-like filters to give your snapshots a retro look. Hipstamatic fell down as unlike Instagram, there was no timeline or community, and in a time before the in-app purchase boom, the user had to pay for packs of filters. The then trendy faux-film aesthetic exploded into the zeitgeist and took Instagram to the stratosphere.

With the decline of Instagram, the faux-film aesthetic has found a new, surprising outlet. In a move towards the nostalgic, younger photographers are stepping away from digital and loading second-hand 35mm cameras, bringing some intriguing new perspectives to street photography on film. As maligned as it is, one wonders how much we have to thank Instagram for that.

Street photography and it's relationship with nostalgia, what do you think? Which street photographers evoke nostalgia in you? Let me know in the comments.

Leave a comment

Digest, July 2023

A discussion of photo books that arose on Substack Notes lit a fire under me. I began to consider what would be required reading for a street photographer. This first article will no doubt be the first of many.

• Required Reading for Street Photographers

With no Shoot It With film article this month, I wrote on my blog about the value of returning to past work, uncovering hidden gems, and learning from past mistakes.

• Reviewing Past Work

Following on from last month’s photo essays on Corpus Christi and the 4th June March for Democracy in Warsaw, here is a photo essay on this year’s March for Equality in the Polish capital.

• Warsaw Pride 2023

For its sophomore outing, my Top 5s series moves from Liverpool to Glasgow as I choose my 5 best sketches from Brian Limond, AKA Limmy.

• Top 5 Sketches from Limmy’s Show

I return to my semi-regular series, continuing to watch the 100 greatest British movies of the 20th century as chosen by the British Film Institute.

• 91: My Name is Joe | 90: Hope and Glory | 89: Fires Were Started

Some Photos

And Finally…

Stay tuned for the next Dispatches email coming on the 9th August.

If you’ve enjoyed issue number 9, I’d be very grateful if you could subscribe, share, and recommend it to any street photography-loving friends. It really does help more than you would think.

Subscribe now

This newsletter is free to read, however, I've recently left corporate life and returned to school, so if you like what I do, please consider buying me a roll of film. You can do so by clicking here, or by aiming your camera at the QR code below.

I'm partial to some of that Tri-X 400 if you're asking. Thank you!

Not long ago, I looked wearily into our bathroom mirror at my shorn temple to see that indeed, hidden by the now departed longer hair, had been a small, though prominent, fresh patch of grey making its debut. There had been signs, of course. I caught myself describing music on the radio as a noise. The banished weight around my midriff, absent for years, had begun to reappear. And I am not enjoying the current battle with my ageing knees. Nevertheless, it was the grey hair that bore the weight of every one of my 44 years. I would like to believe several years of therapy have given me a belated self-awareness and I do check myself when I can. The music may be noise but then it's not made for me. As I think often about the looming spectre of AI in the visual arts, I do wonder if I may be a doddery Abe Simpson, angrily shouting at clouds.

AI is experiencing its gold rush moment. This year already, experts have warned that AI could have existential consequences, generative art gave us the worst Marvel TV title sequence, and Paul McCartney says AI is gifting us one final Beatles song. With considerations as broad as creativity, copyright, reality, and representation, how will AI affect the practice and authenticity of street photography?

AI and Visual Art

Anyone with a passing familiarity with the internet, from those who dabble to the incurably online, will recognise the shower of grifters that travel from one tech innovation to another. Of course, there are countless online denizens using their knowledge and skills for good, but notice that it is the same faces who moved from Crypto through Web3.0, NFTs, and the Metaverse who are now proclaiming AI is the next big thing, all with the same another-White-boy-with-a-podcast energy.

Last month, a user of Adobe's Firefly posed the question "Ever wonder what the rest of the Mona Lisa looks like?" before posting an image that used Adobe's new Generative Fill to show a wider view. To say the critical response was withering is to be polite. The audacity, though, to look at a 520-year-old painting and think, how can I improve that? Ever wonder what the rest of Robert Frank's Hotel Lobby Miami Beach 1955 (The Americans 25) looks like? No, because the frame is the picture, the intent of the artist, not a restriction enforced upon the photographer. Frank has cropped the negative to include precisely what he, the author, wants to show.

This year, German artist Boris Eldagsen made headlines with the cleverly titled image, Pseudomnesia. A beautiful vintage picture of two women together in an intimate moment. It was, however, a false memory. A fake. The image had been generated using AI and entered into the Sony World Photography Awards competition to provoke debate. It won.

AI is in its infancy. It is crawling, blinking, out of the sea. When it reaches its metaphorical enlightenment, its industrial revolution, or its own space age, there is no telling how sophisticated it may become. While algorithms are already being used to edit, process, and adjust photographs, removing tedious repetitive tasks, there are numerous examples online of newspapers, magazines, blogs, websites, and other organisations introducing AI to their businesses for more significant work. Whether this leads to a mass reduction of the workforce remains to be seen.

In this conversation, it is often said that newspapers of record would not knowingly run faked or generated images as photojournalism, however, how long until the difference is imperceptible? In May, a fake image of an explosion at the Pentagon that appeared online caused a brief dip in the stock market. Stepping back though, are AI-generated images any different in concept from courtroom sketches? Might we see, instead of a photograph of some world event, an AI interpretation of it? Photorealistic renderings of Trump in the dock?

Training the Data

Even a cursory Google search will illustrate quite how polarising the debate on AI-powered generative art is. On the one hand, there are the copyright abolitionists and tech absolutists who care not for the rights of the countless artists whose work was used to train the models on which the AI generates its output. On the other, are those that believe generative art is vampirical, animated by those who have come before, while simultaneously an existential threat to those living, giving life to a pale imitation of the real thing.

Generators like DALL-E and Midjourney are trained on countless millions of copyrighted images, all created by someone. These images are scraped and processed without ever asking for the creator's consent - and there certainly is no suggestion of compensation. In their open letter, Artistic Enquiry called it effectively the greatest art heist in history. What is clear, though, is there is only so much training data. As the volume of AI-generated images increases, and they are caught up in the nets scraping the internet for data, then AI will begin to feed itself. Output will trend towards the homogenous and there will be a distinct lack of diversity.

Diversity. That's another hot potato in this seemingly endless debate. As the popularity of generative art grew, artist and researcher Minne Atairu began training a data set to generate portraits based on Instagram downloads of Black models. Despite Atairu's best efforts to overcome them, the system produced repeating stereotypes indicating issues with coded, underlying biases.

While one might argue that as artists we are also trained and influenced by those who have gone before, a key and crucial distinction is that we have our past experiences and interpretations to guide us. When sent lyrics to a ChatGPT-generated song in the style of Nick Cave, the antipodean songwriter responded to the eager creator in characteristic fashion.

This song is bullshit, a grotesque mockery of what it is to be human...What makes a great song great is not its close resemblance to a recognizable work. Writing a good song is not mimicry, or replication, or pastiche, it is the opposite. It is an act of self-murder that destroys all one has strived to produce in the past.

Yikes.

Street Photography and the Looming Spectre of AI

In my late-night, pre-sleep, doom-scrolling I was luckless enough to find myself watching a hashtag-hustle-type explaining to his podcast bros how he prompts AI-generated images. I was tired. His delivery was insufferable. Though my pedantry peaked when he exclaimed that as money is no object, he could use the best camera available, then chose the Leica M10. It’s 2023 mate; the real issue though was his insistence that he could make any picture he desired in the style of.

It took no time at all for these artless grifters to find their way to indulge in some of the aforementioned grotesque mockeries that are completely unreflective of any technique, skill, or experience they may have and instead mimic the aesthetic style of the masters by cribbing from stolen imagery. While some of it is technically impressive and is worryingly photorealistic, it lacks any semblance of soul or character. The subjects do not have lives, stories, thoughts, or feelings. In truth, these images are exactly what one would expect from a robot mimicking a street photography master, failing to scratch the surface to reach a deeper appreciation or understanding of why the shutter was tripped. Midjourney images in the style of Cartier-Bresson do not share the same sense of geometric flair or surrealist timing. Others in the style of Garry Winogrand lack any of his odd and compelling nature.

For street photography purists, the spirit of the practice is loaded with the endeavour of existing in the moment, experiencing the scene, and being in the right place at the right time, with the camera ready to capture something striking and memorable. The hunt for the photograph is an art form in and of itself. Street photography is not easy. It is often the photographer having the good fortune or skilful anticipation to be there to make the photo that is so celebrated. Walking 10 to 15km in a day, feeling that maybe it was a bust, only to turn around and witness something funny, ridiculous, or beautiful, and click. There is no feeling like that found at the end of a blinking cursor. Substituting the skill, experience, intuition, and anticipation with a text prompt undermines the whole practice.

The real concern, though, is not the soulless emptiness of AI-generated street images, but the inevitable doubt of authenticity they will bring to all street photography. Though most pictures from AI generators still have a distinctive plastic sheen to them, the technology is improving version by version. The most recent update to Midjourney has made an appreciable step forward. These images are becoming so realistic as to be a threat to what can be considered real and trustworthy. A recent scandal concerns one Michael Christopher Brown, a photojournalist who decided it would not be in any way ethically questionable to generate AI images of Cuban refugees and sell them as NFT artwork. When discovered, he was dragged over the coals, and rightly so, however, the images were convincing enough for many.

That a street photographer may spend years walking the cities of the world to make their best, most unique photographs only for them to be looked upon suspiciously on publication with the implied or explicit suggestion that the moment didn't happen or that the photographer wasn't there is a real concern. In the future, negatives, contact sheets, and raw files will become crucial to street and documentary photography to ensure and prove veracity. With the improvements in generative AI, the very authenticity of street photography is at stake.

AI in street photography, what do you think? Am I being a Luddite, or is there cause for concern? Let me know in the comments.

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Digest, June 2023

It is often said that one good street photograph per month is a decent return. I wrote about setting realistic expectations and using the failures and nearly-theres to learn from and improve.

• Finding The Keeper

In the space of just 4 days in early June, I shot 11 rolls of film at 2 separate Warsaw events. I collected some of the photographs together in a couple of short photo essays.

• 4th June: From Democracy to Lex Tusk | A Corpus Christi

My latest article on Shoot It With Film is a travel story with a collection of photographs from my post-lockdown trips home to Scotland.

• A Scotland Travel Story

At last, I have found time to begin my oft-threatened-though-never-started series of top 5s on my blog starting with some 1960s guitar pop.

• Top 5 The Beatles Guitar Moments

Returning to my semi-regular series, I’ve continued watching the 100 greatest British movies of the 20th century as chosen by the British Film Institute.

• 94: The Belles of St. Trinians | 93: Caravaggio | 92: In Which We Serve

Some Photos

And Finally…

Stay tuned for the next recommendations email coming on the 12th of July. If you’ve enjoyed issue number 8, I’d be very grateful if you could subscribe, share, and recommend it to any street photography-loving friends.

Subscribe now

This newsletter is free to read, however, I've recently left corporate life and returned to school, so if you like what I do, please consider buying me a roll of film. You can do so by clicking here, or by aiming your camera at the QR code below.

I'm partial to some of that Tri-X 400 if you're asking. Thank you!

“Black and white are the colors of photography. They symbolize the alternatives of hope and despair to which mankind is forever subjected.” - Robert Frank

In Robert Frank's The Americans, plate 13 is a photograph of an African-American nanny, standing before a grey-white wall, with a white baby resting in her arms. Literally, surrounded by whiteness. Taken in 1955 in Charleston, South Carolina, this was years before the civil rights movement had made any significant progress in the South, and this photograph makes a stark, clear-headed statement of the time. Mary Ellen Mark said of the photograph that it captures the essence of racism and servitude in America for all time. A powerful picture had it been made in colour on Kodachrome, that it was taken on Kodak's panchromatic Plus-X black and white film elevated it into something truly special. Frank's collection of photographs, following in the street-stalking footsteps of Walker Evans and Henri Cartier-Bresson, would irrevocably change street photography and, for many, stamp it with a signature black-and-white style through to the present day.

Following the Continuum

From the early 20th century days of Eugène Atget pacing around a modernising Paris, through to Cartier-Bresson hunting for photographs of life in 1930s Mexico, black and white film was the photographer's only option. Kodak's revolutionary Kodachrome colour film launched in 1935, however, it was complex and time-consuming to develop and print. The first wave of photojournalists given freedom to roam by Oskar Barnack's 35mm Leica cameras preferred film that could be developed quickly, consistently, and with a wide latitude of water temperatures depending on where in the world they found themselves. Sticking with the dependable black-and-white films would have been an easy decision.

With many detractors believing it to be a fad or an option only for the amateur snapshot, it would be decades before colour film was appreciated by the art world. Though William Eggleston was then making his switch from black and white to make some quite exceptional street photographs in colour - laying the path for Meyerowitz, Parr, Shore, et al - by the mid-1960s street photography, had historically, characteristically, become known by its timeless monochrome.

Today, street photography is not meant for one or the other. It is, of course, a personal preference. There is great work created using either, however, those photographers using black and white often do so, following a continuum stretching back to Atget or to Kertesz - indirectly emulating or referencing the masters in their photography. That is not to say colour photographers are not also part of that lineage. Ironically, it's not black and white.

The Surreality of Light and Shadow

“Black and white offers a further degree of abstraction. [It] made the overall impression more dreamlike.” - Richard Kalvar

In Bruce Gilden's photo of a Japanese man, lying back, eyes closed, he has dark liquid oozing from his head. Is this an autopsy or a crime scene? The gentleman, in fact, is having his hair coloured. At its core, making photography in black and white is an abstraction. A distillation of reality to an otherworldly surreality of light and shadow.

When asked, viewers of street photography will often cite the timelessness of a black-and-white photograph as an attraction. It is an easy shortcut to nostalgia. Meeting with a friend recently, we discussed our shared aim to make photographs that exist outside any obvious period. The agreement was that it was easy to ascertain an era with either colour or cars. Monochrome at least removes the colour from the equation.

Working in colour on the street is not easy. Masters such as the aforementioned Martin Parr, and Alex Webb, make it look easy but an abundance of terrible #streetphotography on social media disabuses one of that. In the street, scenes move fast and there is little to no control. Colours change in the daylight. Pastel clothes clash with Neon shop fronts. The colour wheel spins.

Black and white street photography removes the distraction of colour, for viewer and photographer, and both can concentrate on form, with its inherent tone, texture, composition, and geometry. Richard Kalvar often talks of a well-organised rectangle, with all elements falling into place, and this organisation is heightened and illuminated in black and white. Without colour to concern, the photographer can concentrate on the interplay of light and dark in the scene. It is in recognising where the light is and how it affects the scene in front of the lens, with its shadows and its highlights, that engaging, exciting street photography can be made.

Black-and-white film can be pulled further than colour film, and doing so offers higher contrast, a characteristic much prized in some quarters of street photography. Daido Moriyama, Bruce Gilden, and Ed Van der Elsken used high-contrast black-and-white pictures to add mystery and heighten the drama of their work - at times pushing the contrast to the very limits of what might be considered acceptable, all in service of the resulting and captivating image.

In 1997, back in the pre-internet days when indie rock fans received promotional postcards from the fairytale land of Leamington Spa, I remember opening a package with a press photo of Idlewild - a high-contrast black-and-white print of the band with the classic, untidy black border that comes from the darkroom printing. That I think of that photograph so often makes me wonder if I was a black-and-white photographer before ever lifting a camera to my eye.

Street photography in black and white? It's a personal choice, but is it yours? What do you prefer? Let me know in the comments.

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Digest, May 2023

Working towards a photography degree has given me some time to think about my own journey with a camera. I wondered what have I learned from simple mistakes that I’ve made.

• Learning Lessons From My Mistakes. Part 1

Spend enough time talking about street photography to friends, family, or people at parties, and the inevitable question appears. Is it allowed?

• Is Street Photography Legal?

Having recently watched the American Masters film, All Things Are Photographable, focused on Gary Winogrand, I thought I would write more about street photography-related video - this time 5 documentary features.

• 5 Street Photographer Documentaries

Having finally, mercifully, left corporate life and gone back to school, there is a lot of photography work that the course is setting out for me. Still lifes, portraits, and a lot of reading. I’m sure I’ll write more about it as I progress, but I started with this introduction.

• Back to School

As festival season begins, my only non-photography piece of writing this month has me reflecting on the dichotomy of outdoor music festivals. Both heaven and horror over one long weekend.

• Middle-aged Memories of Music Festivals

Some Photos

And Finally…

Stay tuned for the next recommendations email coming on the 15th of June. If you’ve enjoyed issue number 7, I’d be very grateful if you could subscribe, share, and recommend it to any street photography-loving friends.

Subscribe now

This newsletter is free to read, however, I've recently left corporate life and returned to school, so if you like what I do, please consider buying me a roll of film. You can do so by clicking here, or by aiming your camera at the QR code below.

I'm partial to some of that Tri-X 400 if you're asking. Thank you!

Having started in street photography using digital cameras over a decade before moving to film, I have generous experience in both. Since loading my first roll of Tri-X a few years ago, it continues to surprise me when a stranger, suspicious of me having taken their photograph, softens when they see an analogue camera in my hand. Maybe it is nostalgia for all things retro, deference to an inferred professional, or pity for an ageing hipster. Either way, the film camera around my wrist often takes the fire from the eyes of the aggressor and immunises me from accusations of nefarious deeds.

There is no doubt in my mind that setting aside the multitudinous menu options and automatic functions of digital cameras, to shoot with what is an expensive, albeit precisely engineered, light-proof box has made me a better street photographer with a gradually developing personal style and voice. There is so much to be said about shooting street photography on film, this month I thought I might consider what took me to film and what I've learned so far.

Embracing the imperfections

Returning to photography after a lengthy hiatus, a move to film was part experiment, part curiosity, and part convenience. Neither my partner nor I owned a digital camera, yet when the pandemic led me back to photography, there were 2 film cameras gathering dust on a shelf. I had the choice of buying a digital camera and throwing Alien Skin's Exposure Tri-X black-and-white emulation over every photograph, or enduring the learning curve and shooting with the real thing. While emulations get ever closer, there is no substitute for the palpable texture of film photography. Black and white film in particular, with its distinctive grain formed by the silver halide particles, can have a rough, seemingly tactile quality that is difficult to fake. When this gritty appearance meets the physical, tangible world and the people therein, something magical happens.

In comparison, digital photography can often seem too clean, too clinical, though free from the unintended consequences of a physical, chemical process. Pictures formed by silver salts, no matter how fine, will never be as sharp or as clear as a digital image. Rather than lamenting this, or regretting other small imperfections, shooting street photography on film has taught me to embrace it. In much the same way the subtle, faint crackle and pop of the needle on a vinyl record has a sense of warmth and nostalgia, the visual character of a film photograph can have an emotional impact that is difficult to deny, or indeed describe.

Modern emulations and overlays are useful tools - I still use Exposure to this day, however, looking through my own photographs, comparing something from a Leica M8 in 2008, with a photo from my Leica M3 and Tri-X developed in D76 in 2023, demonstrates a stark difference in atmosphere. A recent exhibition of colour photographs of Warsaw over the last 30-odd years showed a similar difference between early digital photos and the characteristic emulsions of Kodak Gold or Ektar. Some may disagree, but there is an argument to be made that there is no true substitute for photographing the street with the real thing.

The Learning Curve

A first moment of culture shock moving from digital photography to shooting on film is often the unpleasant discovery most of us will have of our over-reliance on the LCD screen. How on earth can I move on before I know I've got it? Fortunately, this dependence disappears quickly though, like an unwelcome house guest, the second-guessing pops back occasionally for a quick visit. For others, the revelation of how quickly one can burn through a roll of 36 frames - and disposable income - is the first step up the learning curve. The limited exposures on an ever-increasingly expensive roll of film should be some motivation to slow down and be more deliberate. Switch off that burst mode. Nevertheless, street photography is all failure until success. Every shot counts, but only in so much as the failures are not a waste of film, but necessary steps laying the ground for the keepers.

Until last year, every camera I had ever used had a light meter. Now and then, I may have ignored it, trusting instead a handheld meter, however, it was always there should I need it. Exactly a year ago, I bought the meterless Leica M3 and continued up the learning curve, relying on occasional glances at the handheld until eventually, the Sunny 16 rule was all I needed out on the street. The lack of autofocus on many analogue cameras can also often trip some new converts to film, however, it soon becomes second nature, as does full manual control.

Even in my digital Leica M days, to give me one thing less to worry about in a day's photography, I would lean heavily on aperture priority or shutter speed priority modes. there's nothing wrong with that, of course, however, I only became truly comfortable with exposure and the law of reciprocity when I was forced to consider everything with full manual exposure control of my analogue cameras. In the cut and thrust of the street, there is little time to set an aperture, reciprocate with a shutter speed, manually focus, compose, and snap. The moment is long gone. Instead, with manual exposure came figurative tools such as zone-focusing and the aforementioned Sunny 16 rule, all of which made me a better, more technical, photographer able to quickly react to what I find.

What do you think? Have you moved from digital to film? What was your experience? Or are you planning to? What questions do you have? Let me know in the comments.

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Digest, April 2023

A day of street photography experiences its peaks and its troughs. During those moments of low action, a search for imaginative self-portraits can spark some creativity.

• Making Street Photography Self-Portraits

Alternatively, if nothing is grabbing your attention but there's plenty going on, it can sometimes help to inject some artificial urgency and force focus and concentration.

• The Street Photography Bleep Test

After a long few months of being serviced, my Leica M3 returned from the workshop. The M6 has been benched, and without its light meter, I’m back to the Sunny 16 rule.

• The Law of Reciprocity | Sunny 16 and Street Photography

Over the last couple of months, I began digging through a vast folder of concert tickets and writing some memories of the shows. The first was the world premiere of R.E.M.'s Road Movie in Edinburgh, and the second was the Slint-curated All Tomorrow's Parties.

• To Be Retained #1 R.E.M. Road Movie | #2 Slint. All Tomorrow’s Parties

And talking of a semi-regular series, I’ve continued my viewing of the 100 greatest British movies of the 20th century as chosen by the British Film Institute.

• 97: Nil by Mouth (1997) | 96: The Wicker Man (1973) | 95: Life is Sweet (1990)

Some Photos

A Quick Note on Notes

In issue 01 of Photos, mostly, I wrote about my need to leave algorithmic social media behind and replace it with the newsletter. Quite to my surprise, I’ve done just that. Twitter is gone, my Instagram is all but a static portfolio, and I use Facebook only for Messenger. All that is to say that I was delighted when Substack introduced Notes - and not only because it annoyed Elon Musk quite so thoroughly.

Notes is a new space on Substack for writers to share links, short posts, quotes, photos, and more. I’m still watching others to get an idea of how others are using it, but I plan to post thoughts that don’t fit in the newsletter, like work-in-progress, quick questions, or the occasional photo. So don’t be surprised if you see more of that.

You can also share notes of your own and I hope you do. I hope this becomes a space where readers of Photos, mostly can share thoughts, ideas, stuff, and things from what we're reading on Substack and beyond.

(If that’s not up your street, I believe there are notification settings for Notes so you can switch them off rather than feeling the need to unsubscribe from the newsletter itself.)

And Finally…

If you’ve enjoyed issue number 6, I’d be very grateful if you could subscribe, share, and recommend it to any street photography-loving friends.

Subscribe now

This newsletter is free to read, however, I've recently left corporate life and returned to school, so if you like what I do, please consider buying me a roll of film. You can do so by clicking here, or by aiming your camera at the QR code below.

I'm partial to some of that Tri-X 400 if you're asking. Thank you!

A decade ago, I was an underachieving modern-classical and ambient musician, and a voracious listener of 20th century experimental composers and composers of early electronic music. One such pioneer, a neat fit into both camps, was the New York dwelling Californian, John Cage.

Through his life, Cage would innovate a technique he called indeterminacy, where some, or all, of the composition or performance of a work may be left to chance. A source of some fascination for me, I went so far as to record my own variations on his 1956 work, Radio Music.

Recent, dramatic changes in my life, not least a return to academia to study towards a degree in photography - which itself was brought about by unexpected events - have me reflecting on the role that chance plays in street photography.

A Chance Definition

“A poor photographer meets chance one out of a hundred times and a good photographer meets chance all the time” - Brassaï

Chance, when set amidst the art of street photography, speaks to the randomness and unpredictability of what may unfold out on the street. Often, the choices we make find us in the right place at the right time, or have us missing out. Contact sheets show that before Robert Frank made his famous photo, Trolley New Orleans (1955) he was facing a parade, in the opposite direction. Had he not turned on his heel to see this chance visual depiction of segregation in the Deep South, the world would be deprived of a magnificent photograph.

Embracing the very idea of chance, that unseen force that toys with probability and possibility, is what opens the door to making authentic and engaging street photography of moments that otherwise may have gone unnoticed.

Life has Strange Serendipity

“Photography is an ambiguous challenge to chance.” - Guy Le Querrec

It is a common misconception, particularly to those new to street photography, that the masters of the art make their work with the fortune encountered in that moment by Frank. As discussed before in this newsletter, by looking through many contact sheets of other great images, it is clear there is often a path developed to the final photograph.

Nevertheless, serendipity has huge importance in practice. The chance occurrence of all elements of subject, location, light, and geometry falling into place for only a fraction of a second is something every street photographer hopes, and is looking, for. Those unexpected or unplanned moments that may never come together in quite the same form again.

Balancing Luck and Skill

“All the technique in the world doesn’t compensate for the inability to notice.” – Elliott Erwitt

When walking the city in the hopeful pursuit of such unplanned or unexpected moments, photographers must concentrate, to be alert and open to the spontaneity that comes with the unpredictable. Podcasts should be discarded, music turned off. Part intuition and part anticipation, street photography is a true sensory experience.

As Matt Stuart alludes to in his book Think Like a Street Photographer, “The harder I practice, the luckier I get,” experience brings with it an instinctual observation, always on the hunt for characters or interactions. To notice an expression or a gesture, then anticipate how the scene may play out to make the most of the opportunity, is the key. It is crucial to know the operation of the camera such that its use is automatic. In Cartier-Bresson's words, the lens becomes an extension of the eye. Click.

Happy Accidents

“Sharpness is a bourgeois concept.” – Henri Cartier-Bresson

The street is a dynamic, ever-changing place to make photographs and mishaps or mistakes will happen, however, they can often be shaped to our benefit. Though desirable, not every street photograph must be pin sharp. At times, emotion can make up for that which focus has lost. Or, a sudden change in weather brings with it a difference in light which in turn causes the mood to change - the rain comes on and people scurry for cover. A passer-by unexpectedly crosses the frame as the photo is taken, there is now accidental foreground framing giving unintended but welcome immediacy to the image. Perhaps taking a wrong turn down an unfamiliar street unveils a perfect photo opportunity. The most common of these happy accidents is when two contrasting ideas collide in an explosion of juxtaposition.

Order from Chaos

“The limitations in your photography are in yourself, for what we see is what we are.” - Ernst Haas

It is in juxtaposition that chance shows her playful side. I am sure I'm not alone when I say that some of my best photographs are momentary coincidences of wry or ironic contrast. For instance, a man, worse for wear, with an injured arm in a sling standing in front of a weathered theatre poster proclaiming There Will Be Hilarious Laughter Soon. Street photography thrives on these illustrations of humour or contrast. To make the most of opportunities such as these, the street photographer must be uninhibited and open to recognise the possibilities as they arise, and quick enough to catch them. Had I stumbled across the scene moments later to see the gentleman boarding a bus, presumably heading home, I would have certainly left town wondering if I had recently broken any mirrors.

What do you think? Has chance played an instrumental part in your photography? Do you have stories of catching a moment or just missing one? Let me know in the comments.

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Digest, March 2023

In the final entry in the '5 Ws' of street photography series, I answer the question of when are the best times to pick up the camera, walk out the door, and make some photographs.

• When to Make Street Photography?

Short of time to write a planned article, I opted instead to start something I had meant to for a while. The first in a series of collections of street photography adjacent films found online. Enjoy.

• 5 Street Photography Adjacent films

If new to street photography and excited to get started, it can be difficult to decide which camera is right for you. Here are some things to think about before you buy.

• Choosing a Camera for Street Photography

This month on Shoot It With Film, I returned to street photography technique and explained how zone focusing can be an invaluable skill on the street.

• What is Zone Focusing and How to Use It for Street Photography?

John Cage makes another appearance in this newsletter, this time in a nostalgic article I wrote on the subject of silence, and Cage's music of chance.

• The Sound of Silence

While I'm writing a little bit about music, I found and resurrected an old blog article written in 2013 on the trials and tribulations of being a guitarist, and being a leftie.

• To Be a Southpaw

Some Photos

Recommendations

So, subscribers following Photos, mostly since issue 1 may now be wondering where the recommendations section of the newsletter is.

After discovering some technical limitations on Substack's email length, and also receiving some welcome and complimentary feedback since the last issue; I've decided to post Photos, mostly a touch more regularly.

I will continue to publish each issue of the newsletter on the last Wednesday of every month containing the issue’s dedicated article, Some Photos, and the monthly Digest of my other articles.

As is favoured by many other monthly newsletters on Substack, I've decided to separate out the recommendations into their own mid-month post.

This will continue to include recommendations of photographers, books, music, movies, TV, games, and other interesting or inspiring things I come across. The first, will be traveling to you on the 12th April.

And Finally…

If you’ve enjoyed issue number 5, I’d be very grateful if you could subscribe, share, and recommend it to any street photography-loving friends.

Subscribe now

This newsletter is free to read, however, I've recently left corporate life and returned to school, so if you like what I do, please consider buying me a roll of film. You can do so by clicking here, or by aiming your camera at the QR code below.

I'm partial to some of that Tri-X 400 if you're asking. Thank you!

Sitting across my room sits a small, though ever-expanding, library of books containing tens of thousands of photographs. Each book represents an artwork in and of itself with love and care poured in to its cover, its sequence, its layout, its creation. In short, a photo book is a beautiful thing, not there only to be gazed upon, part of a collection, but crying out to be read, to be studied. As photographers, these books are indispensable in honing our craft.

As a songwriter might study the albums and songs of Jimmy Webb, Brian Wilson, or the late Burt Bacharach, street photographers should critically analyse the photographs in books by Cartier-Bresson, Garry Winogrand, or Robert Frank. Doing so helps us to learn and improve as photographers, while growing our understanding of the craft and broadening our appreciation of our chosen art form.

The Many Categories of Photo Books

There are many categories and subcategories of photography books. There are essential practical guides (my own first steps were taken with Bryan Peterson's excellent Understanding Exposure); books on theory or the philosophy of photography (for instance, Susan Sontag's On Photography - required reading!); and biographies or critical analyses that place a photographer's life and work in context.

In this issue, however, I want to focus on collections of photographs. Monographs, such as Robert Frank's The Americans, or Richard Kalvar's Earthlings; retrospectives, such as collections of the photographs of Cartier-Bresson and Walker Evans, or the bite-sized Photofile series; and compilations such as the indispensable Magnum Contact Sheets or the often maligned but no-less important Family of Man.

Why We Should Read Photo Books

It's easy to get lost in our own work and at times, if stuck in a rut, difficult to find the next step. Thorough exploration of the pages of a photography book can assist in finding the right path. When feeling adrift, studying other photographers' work can provide inspiration, it can be the catalyst for a new creative spark. Though when fuelled by such inspiration, be careful not to slip into unintentional imitation.

Studying both contemporary books and the classics, we can see how the past has shaped the present and how, for instance, the work of Elliott Erwitt has informed the photography of Craig Semetko. Or how comparing work from the early New York school of street photographers to the output of Boogie can show how street photography has evolved.

Being self-taught, I sometimes struggle with impostor syndrome, so I must remind myself not to be discouraged by the mastery of the photos adorning these pages, and instead see them as a wealth of information to help me grow. Books such as Magnum's Contact Sheets or the contact sheets of Robert Frank found in the expanded edition of Looking In: Robert Frank's Americans are invaluable. They show frame-by-frame how an idea developed, dispelling the myth that the masters were successful first time, every time.

In photo books we find answers. Why do our photographs not match our expectations? Deconstructing the work of Richard Kalvar or Robert Frank, for instance, we may consider how they might have approached a similar scene, then infer how we should do so in the future. Taking this a step further, studying the work of the masters helps us to build our own personal photographic vocabulary.

How to Read Photo Books

So how to read a photo book critically and analytically? This, of course, depends on what we want to gain from our reading, and could be the subject of a book all of its own. Let's say we want to improve our technique, learning from the style of a photographer. We might study their use of composition, of lighting, or their choice of depth of field. We might reflect on their choice of subjects and the places where they were found.

Critical evaluation is important and we may ask ourselves why each image is effective on its own. First impressions are revealing so take note of photographs that catch the eye. Why does the image appeal to us? Question how the photographer made the image, and why they did. Are there concepts in the photograph that we might incorporate or allow to inspire us in our own work?

Photographers and editors will toil over the sequence of a photo book to ensure it works, whether narratively or thematically. Does the sequencing work for us? How are the photographs captioned? What does it tell us of the intention of the photographer? Many photo books have introductions, prefaces, or even essays set before the photographic plates. These shouldn't be overlooked as they may indicate concepts, themes, or offer context to the photographs.

Afterward, whatever we hoped to learn, consider the book in its entirety. How does the work make us feel? Has it effectively conveyed its thematic or artistic intention? Then start again, this time with a clearer understanding of the work.

Buy Books, Not Gear

Please forgive a well-worn cliche, if you want to improve your street photography, buy books not gear. Avoid the evil imperia, and buy from your local photo book store. Yes, books are lovely to own and even more enjoyable to gaze at from across the room but don't just collect them, ingest them. Set aside time every day - or every week - to sit with a book and really study it.

What do you think? Which photo books have improved your photography? Which are your favourites? Any recommendations? Let me know in the comments.

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Digest, February 2023

What personalities and character traits make for the best street photographers? I answer the question of who makes street photography, in the penultimate entry of my ‘5 Ws’ series.

• Who makes street photography?

Often when I hit the street for a day of photography, I find it takes some time to hit my stride. Here, I write about why that is, and how best to get warmed up.

• Warming Up for Street Photography

This month on Shoot It With Film, I stepped away from street photography to write in depth about my experiences of printing my photographs from digital scans.

• Getting Started with Black and White Printing

Briefly mentioned in the last issue, I travelled over to Glasgow in January to photograph The Delgados returning to a Glasgow stage at the Barrowlands. A beautiful show, here are some pictures from the evening.

• The Delgados. January 2023

Over the next couple of years, I will watch the 100 greatest British movies of the 20th century, chosen by the British Film Institute, and I'll be writing short reviews on my blog. Here are the first 3.

• 100: The Killing Fields | 99: Carry On Up The Khyber | 98: Small Faces

And to finish this digest for the month, here is the second set of 5 in my list of 10 podcasts that I think you should listen to.

• Casting Pods, Again (Podcasts Pt. 2)

Some Photos

Recommendations

Photographer

In issue 1, I introduced 2 of my strongest influences in Richard Kalvar, and Elliott Erwitt. In this issue, I want to recommend my 3rd. Robert Frank was a Swiss-born photographer who was awarded a Guggenheim grant in 1955 and for 2 years used it to travel across the United States with his Leica iiif creating an indelible study of the country with his outsider's eye. From a total of 28,000 negatives, Frank chose 83 for his book, and The Americans, first published in Paris in 1958 by Robert Delpire, is oft considered to be the most important photo book of all time. Frank's photography is stark, unvarnished by romance or sentimentality, and - despite its technical imperfections - utterly perfect.

Music

A long, long time ago, back in Glasgow, I was in a band called Troika. The band was a shambling, odd collection of souls that didn't really know exactly what it wanted to be. Part indie, part post-punk, part post-rock, all chaotic and loose. From the band, I founded too many fireworks, my record label. Over the years the label gave the world 32 eclectic releases that I'm still, to this day, very proud of. One split 7" single featured the Glasgow indie-pop band, the Hector Collectors. The band's frontman and founder, Adam Smith - a Glasgow institution himself - has collated a "Nuggets"-style Spotify playlist of many of the bands that were kicking around that pre-and-post Franz Ferdinand scene. Including Troika. It's great.

Television

The writing of the Chris Chibnall era of Doctor Who left a lot to be desired. It is of some deep regret that Jody Whittaker's take on the Doctor will be remembered for the poor writing rather than some excellent performances. Still, The Power of the Doctor was an enjoyable last outing for 13 and the return of Russell T. Davies as show runner for the 60th anniversary later in the year is something to look forward to, not to mention the debut of Ncuti Gatwa as 15. All this is to say that as Whittaker's tenure ended, I started a rewatch from the 2005 revival, onwards. I've just reached Capaldi's 12th Doctor and it's been a wild ride. No wilder than finding Lauren Sherman's excellent Guide to the Gallifreyan Alphabet. There are many, well, let's call them dialects, of Gallifreyan created by fans, but this one is a lot of fun to play around with.

Interesting

Due to the recent, newsworthy, and controversial Gender Recognition Reform Bill passing through the Scottish parliament, The issue of transgender rights has been in the UK news quite a bit. Cards on the table here, so my position is clear. Trans rights are human rights. Simple. Reddit user 17Beta18Carbons opened up a Transgender no-stupid-questions thread on the Scotland subreddit and it is an excellent read - I learned a lot! I see the mods have locked it at 1.3k comments, so there may have been some shenanigans near the end, but the first thousand or so comments are fascinating.

And Finally…

If you’ve enjoyed issue number 4, I’d be very grateful if you could subscribe, share, and recommend it to any music or photography-loving friends.

Subscribe now

This newsletter is free to read, however, I've recently left corporate life and returned to school, so if you like what I do, please consider buying me a roll of film. You can do so by clicking here, or by aiming your camera at the QR code below.

I'm partial to some of that Tri-X 400 if you're asking. Thank you!

Photographing in the street for long enough, despite all efforts to the contrary, we will unintentionally upset someone. Whether a beginner of only a few months, or a street photographer with decades of experience, we should expect to meet some conflict and confrontation as we work. Whether this comes from misunderstanding, misanthropy, or mistake, it is important to have good ‘bedside manner’ to defuse those unfortunate and unpleasant situations. Certainly, much has changed over the last decade and conversations of consent and purpose have rightly arisen. As street photographers we have to strike a balance while not undermining the work we want to do.

In its more classic definition, street photography is making candid images of life as it is lived, or the remnants of that life. The active introduction of the photographer irrevocably changes the scene. As such, to ensure the image appears as I see it, and not an amateur theatre replica, I abide by the tenet, ‘It's better to ask forgiveness than seek permission’. Many inexperienced photographers fixate on the end of this principle while ignoring its opening. Not seeking permission is not, in turn, a tacit licence to be ill-mannered, defensive or aggressive in confrontation, especially not if the person confronting you is being equally or more so. The goal of a confrontation on the street is, of course, de-escalation.

Laws on street photography are different across the world but in most places it is legal to make an image of someone in public where there is no reasonable expectation of privacy. Armed with that knowledge, though, many street photographers - including my younger self - fall back on the argument of rights. ‘I have the right to take this photograph’. Speaking from experience, this is not wise. There are few things that will escalate conflict more than ‘well, actually...’ With more experience comes consideration not only to the question of whether I can take the photograph, but whether I should. Each street photographer must draw their own ethical lines.

While it is natural to feel defensive in the face of confrontation, it is important to remain empathetic. Someone very well may be taking their bad day out on you, however, the possibility remains their aversion to being photographed is something deeper.

With experience it becomes more easy to recognise signs of who may have a sincere basis for objection, versus someone frantically clutching pearls. I've found that immediate threat of the police, or claims that laws have been broken, without discussion, more often than not reveal the person just wants to ‘speak to the manager’. I've learned the quickest and easiest resolution to offer these people is to smile apologetically, and walk away.

The former group, in contrast, will often stop and invite discussion, and I am happy to accept. The first question is often why did I take the photograph, and I'm happy to explain. If intentions are sincere and we are honest in our explanation, I have found people will move from concerned to baffled. With a little Street Photography 101, it's then an easy trip from bafflement to interest. Most such confrontations have ended in pleasant agreement - whether I agree to send them the image, or we agree I not publish the photograph.

Every so often, a quick escape is impossible, or our apology ignored. It is our responsibility to remain calm, be friendly, and not mirror any aggression. Again, empathy is our watchword. We can't know why someone has become upset. It may be difficult to keep composure in the face of insult and accusation of all manner of intentions, but remain composed we must. In these more verbally violent situations, I will offer a succinct apology, give a short explanation why I was interested by the scene, and as a last resort, I will agree not to publish the photo. If this fails to placate the aggressor, I will be direct, assertive, and indicate my exit.

Street photography is not for everyone. Don't be shamed by those who don’t understand it. While it can be exhilarating and rewarding, it is not without its dangers. Confrontations do happen. (I have been assaulted, not once but twice, while working. Once, punched in the side of the head for nothing but taking the above photograph). Nevertheless, as a street photographer I am privileged to be out in the world making photographs of life in the 2020s. It's a good life, and as such, it is important to me that my photography does not negatively impact on someone else's life. Though sometimes unavoidable, no-one should leave an interaction with me having a worse day than they were before. So, a second tenet then for any street photographers, or anyone really, to live by. Put simply... ‘don't be a dick.’

What do you think? How do you deal with confrontation? Let me know in the comments.

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Digest, January 2023

Continuing my ‘5 Ws’ of street photography, I answer the question of where do we make street photography. Despite what you may think, the answer is not confined to the street.

• Where do we make street photography?

As the Photos, mostly newsletter will occasionally fall between the 8 week gap in my articles for Shoot It With Film, I’ll fill the gap with another street photography article from my blog. This month…

• 5 assignments for street photography beginners

In December, I photographed both Idlewild and Mogwai in Glasgow. Despite some film photography mishaps, I’m glad to say there are some photos from the shows now on my website.

• Idlewild and Mogwai. December 2022

Reflecting on my time as guitarist for Warsaw post-rock band, the Frozen North, I remember when we were asked to send music to Mars. It never got off the ground, but making the music was a joy.

• Marain (A Tribute to Penderecki)

Podcasts have taken over my life. I'm not alone in this, so here are the first 5 in an eventual list of 10 that I think you should listen to.

• Casting Pods (Podcasts Pt. 1)

Some Photos

Recommendations

Photographer

Our first woman street photographer recommendation is long overdue. To begin, I want to introduce the photos of Jill Freedman for those who might not know of her. Born in Pittsburgh in 1939, she spent the majority of her life in New York City. Her photography was influenced by Hungarian, André Kertész, and her idol was the great W. Eugene Smith. It is no surprise her photography is as formidable, warm, and passionate as she undoubtedly was.

Book

In 2017 I read a collection of memoirs of a fictional early 1980s post-punk music scene in my home town of Airdrie, Scotland. The book was by David Keenan, and the book was This Is Memorial Device. Reading tales of a musical coming of age set among the schemes of Cairnhill, Craigneuk, Petersburn, and Clarkston was enjoyable but hearing them was tremendous. This month, I bought the audiobook read, no... performed, by Keenan and the telling is as Airdrieonian as it could get. Described in an Audible review as transcendent. I couldn't agree more.

Music

This month I'm back in town for the reunion of the Delgados, tonight (25th January) at the Glasgow Barrowlands. The Lanarkshire band responsible for their acclaimed indie label Chemikal Underground, and their album The Great Eastern, a contender for the true pantheon of classic Scottish records. The band split in 2005 and last year decided to reunite after hanging out together at Stuart Braithwaite's (Mogwai) wedding. There isn't a better choice for music recommendation this month than arguably my all-time favourite gig. The Delgados at the Old Fruitmarket in Glasgow in 2001.

Interesting

Duke University School of Law in Durham, North Carolina have a centre for the study of Public Domain and each January 1st, they celebrate Public Domain day when creative works from 95 years ago become free to all. This year, entering the Public Domain are works by Conan Doyle, Proust, Kafka and Hesse, not to mention the original The Jazz Singer, and Fritz Lang's Metropolis.

And Finally…

If you’ve enjoyed this third issue, I’d be very grateful if you could subscribe, share, and recommend it to any music or photography-loving friends.

Subscribe now

This newsletter is free to read, however, I've recently left corporate life and returned to school, so if you like what I do, please consider buying me a roll of film. You can do so by clicking here, or by aiming your camera at the QR code below.

I'm partial to some of that Tri-X 400 if you're asking. Thank you!

"Your first 10,000 photographs are your worst" - Henri Cartier-Bresson

Now 2 years into my return to street photography, and almost 20 since I first picked up a camera, I have been considering why my success rate per photograph has fallen. For every roll of film that I shoot, there seems to be fewer frames worthy of consideration. Have I spent recent times regressing as a street photographer? I feel quite the opposite. My photography has come on a distance in the last year or so. The operative phrase, I suppose, is "there seems to be fewer worthy of consideration". In fact, if anything, there is an objectively higher quality to my recent work than before the hiatus, yet I choose to show far fewer of them to the world. I wonder why that is?

The answer lies, I think, in experience and good judgement, or - in the past - a lack thereof. Photographers starting out on their creative path will share an abundance of images without ever determining those that represent their best work. At this early stage, they still need to learn how to edit and are excited to show improvement day by day. Beginners do have discernment in their choices, but their range of what they find acceptable to show is wider as there is much to learn. And, incidentally, there's absolutely nothing wrong with that. Don't get me wrong. You'll find no gatekeeping here.

In time, through exposure to other photographers work, criticism from peers, and with an open mind and a desire to work hard to improve ourselves as we walk the streets, we start to see what other photographs have that make them stand out when ours don't. We learn what makes a strong rectangle and what might detract from the image. We begin to incorporate those lessons into our compositions. Through constant revision and review, we develop an intuition for a good edit, and become more comfortable with cutting out weeds we may once have looked upon as flowers.

While a hard lesson to learn, it is also important not to confuse the intention with the result. A key lesson learned from a street photography masterclass with Richard Kalvar was the intention is irrelevant if the photograph isn't any good. It's tempting to share a photograph you know in your heart isn't up to your own high standards, because you remember what you intended when you took the photograph and you came so close. Unfortunate though it is, it's important to forget that intention and look at the frame objectively. Is it any good?

With experience I've come to discover in my own work what I see as a strong street photograph, and one that is either mediocre or just bad. With help from masters and amateurs alike, I've developed - what I like to think of as - a discerning eye to recognise the difference. While this has the occasional adverse effect of causing me to overlook a photo I should include, it has made a marked improvement to the choices I make in an edit. This is never more clear than when I compare recent photographs to those that I would post to Flickr as my best work of the time. I can even see it in the comparison of photos I posted to Instagram in early 2021 versus choices that I would make now.

With experience comes better judgement and we are always learning, growing, and improving. To consider my original question, then, rather than fretting about a perceived drop in acceptable photographs found on my spent rolls of Tri-X, I choose to think of it more as an obvious sign of growth in judgement, and a stronger resolve to continue to better edit my own work.

What do you think? Have you had a similar experience? Let me know in the comments.

Digest, December 2022

Making up a chunk of the regular content in this newsletter's monthly digest will be "On the Street", a new wide-ranging series of street photography blog articles. To kick it off, I have begun to answer the “5 Ws” of street photography - who, what, where, when, and why.

• What is Street Photography, anyway? | Why Make Street Photography?

Continuing my series of street photography articles for Shoot It With Film, I wrote about my love for Kodak's Tri-X black and white film, and why you should love it too.

• Kodak Tri-X: Why I Love It & Why You Should Too

Live music photography will continue to elbow its way into this newsletter as we step into 2023. Late last month, 35mmc published my article of 5 frames of '...Trail of Dead' live at Warsaw's Hydrozagadka venue.

• 5 Frames of ‘… And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead’ with a Leica M6 and Kodak Tri-X

As 2022 comes to a close, I looked back at the last 12 months I've had in photography and chose my 5 favourite photographs I have taken this year.

• 2022: A Top 5

And finally for December’s digest, I stepped away from photography for a brief moment and looked back at my history of writing Christmas songs.

• Christmas Music, Mostly

Some Photos

Recommendations

Music

Tonight (21st December), I am photographing Idlewild at Glasgow's O2 Academy. A formative band for me, and 1 of my first Scottish music obsessions, I've seen the band 50-odd times including following them around on their Scottish Highlands tour in 2000. This is a short 12-minute documentary made by Channel 4, back then, when the band played in Portree on the Isle of Skye. If you look closely, you might see a very young me in a terribly oversized jumper.

Photographer

As I'm home in Scotland when this second issue of the newsletter goes out, I've been thinking a lot about street photography in Glasgow, not necessarily by Glaswegians. In 1980, Raymond Depardon was commissioned by the Sunday Times Magazine to photograph the city. He concentrated on the poverty and deprivation of the time, and the “resilient nature” of the city's inhabitants.

Book

Having just completed volume 10 of Brian K. Vaughan's incredible comic book series on Image Comics, Saga, I was looking for something else to read while waiting for my flight on Sunday past. Despite being a huge fan of the author, I'd never read Pride of Baghdad. So I did. I later described it to my partner as "one of those short, beautiful, and utterly devastating reads that you sometimes come across". The author himself described it as "simple fable told from the perspective of a real-world pride of lions, [asking] complex questions about America's [...] war in Iraq".

Video Game

I'm not much of a gamer, really. I'm more someone who dips in and out when it comes to consoles and gaming, however, during the pandemic I bought a PS4 then 5, and fell in love with Hideo Kojima's beautiful game, Death Stranding. I've finished the game several times and with the exception of music, I've never bought quite so much merch for a thing, ever. This year, I somehow missed that there was a sequel in development and, well, lost my mind earlier in the month when this trailer was released. I think a new play-through of the original is on the cards.

And Finally…

I didn’t quite hit my target of 100 subscribers before the December issue but you could help me get there before - or just after - the new year. If you’ve enjoyed this second issue, I’d be very grateful of you could recommend it to any music or photography-loving friends.

Subscribe now

This newsletter is free to read, however, I've recently left corporate life and returned to school, so if you like what I do, please consider buying me a roll of film. You can do so by clicking here, or by aiming your camera at the QR code below.

I'm partial to some of that Tri-X 400 if you're asking. Thank you!

As a relic old enough to remember a time before the internet, I have lived through the exciting rise and often undignified fall of everything from newsgroups, ICQ, and AOL to Livejournal, Myspace, Flickr, Facebook, Instagram, and now - to my deep dismay, Twitter. When a platform was ruined for its community in one way or another, I followed the often lightning-quick migration on to the next. I've flirted with other platforms, but this time learning - then fighting with - a new algorithm feels exhausting. Instead of craving likes, hearts, comments, and RTs, I want to relax and take photographs, so I opted for something different.

Much like the music industry's retro return to vinyl, there seems to be an online shift back to simpler times. Fewer ads and less algorithmic interference, please! Newsletter platforms are beginning to make a resurgence and now seems like as good a time as any to take at least 1 foot out of the social media waters to try something slower, with less pressure, and fewer demands on my time.

My, possibly quixotic, intention is to focus my online content around my website, my blog, and this newsletter. The latter will include a digest of recent content posted to my website and elsewhere, but I want it to be much more.

I will concentrate on the philosophy and practice of street photography and may sometimes switch lanes to live music photography on film. In addition to essays, I will share tips, photos, and experiences - both successes and, er... teachable moments. Nothing if not opinionated, I'll chime in on notable events in the photography world. And, as the newsletter develops, I hope to build a small community. Closing it out, I'll throw in some recommendations of other photographers, music, podcasts, movies, films - whatever is exciting or entertaining me at the time.

Before we kick off, I should introduce myself. I'm Neil, a Scottish Varsovian street and live music photographer. I teach, and write about photography for Shoot It With Film, and 35mmc. I was formerly the owner of too many fireworks, a Glaswegian indie record label, from 2001 until 2021, and I’ve played in several bands. For a time, from 2006 to (almost) 2011, I moved from music to photography, beginning in live music but eventually moving to documentary and street photography.

After my move to Poland, I found myself back in music for a decade, however, the pandemic called an end to that and late 2020 brought me back to street photography, with occasional forays into live music. And that's me. So here we are together. And thank you for joining me. Let's see where this newsletter takes us.

Digest, November 2022

If you're new to me and my street photography, there's no better place to start than the archive of my exhibition, "Le Retour", that was shown at Ckio in Podkowa Leśna in winter / spring this year. You may also want to visit the second and third links, "People, mostly" and "Places, mostly", 2 continually evolving galleries of my favourite photographs.

• ne

In Autumn, I joined the team at Shoot It With Film as a regular contributor focusing on street and live music photography. I began with 2 posts bringing together some fundamentals of street photography for those who want to get started.

• SIWF Street Photography Fundamentals Part 1 | Part 2

In the opening post of a series of blogs on my return to live music photography, this time photographing on film, I describe some first impressions and write a little of my experience so far.

• A Return to Live Music Photography

In my first post for 35mmc, I reviewed Adriana López Sanfeliu's affectionate documentary portrait of her friend, and an idol of mine, Elliott Erwitt.

• Silence Sounds Good review

Finally, something for fun. Every few years, I fill in the "Proust" questionnaire in a wee notebook, to see how my answers change over time. Last year, I posted the most recent to my blog.

• “Proust” Questionnaire

Some Photos

Recommendations

In memory of Mimi Parker

Last week, Low's singer, songwriter, and drummer, Mimi Parker died at the age of 55 after a battle with cancer. The band's music has had a deep, emotional presence in my life since I was 20 years old, so I wanted to share something here for you to enjoy. Mesmerising, beautiful music.

Photographer/s

Each issue, I want to introduce readers to a photographer I love. Some will be legends of the genre, others maybe less well known but possibly even more deserving of your attention. In this first issue, I have two for you - a pair of longstanding members of Magnum that have had the strongest influence on my own photography.

The first is the aforementioned Elliott Erwitt. You can read more and see his photographs on his website.

The second, Richard Kalvar, I had an opportunity to spend some time with in Paris earlier this year. You can read about him and see his photographs on his Magnum profile.

Inspiring

Between 1966 and '67, John Cage and his friend Morton Feldman had four open-ended conversations recorded at the studios of WBAI radio in New York. Relaxed in each other's company, their soft-voiced conversations journey through the pair's thoughts, feelings, and beliefs in the creative process and society, politics, and art as a whole. I return to these recordings often and I find them moving, beautiful, and inspiring.

• John Cage and Morton Feldman Conversations on Archive.org

And finally…

I’m in the early stages of growing this newsletter, so if you’ve enjoyed this first issue, I’d be very grateful if you could recommend it to any photography-loving friends.

Subscribe now

This newsletter is free to read, however, I've recently left corporate life and returned to school, so if you like what I do, please consider buying me a roll of film. You can do so by clicking here, or by aiming your camera at the QR code below.

I'm partial to some of that Tri-X 400 if you're asking. Thank you!