New Wine in Old Bottles: The Enduring Relevance of Street Photography

A considered photographic dialogue with the people, places, and culture of a contemporary Chicago did not end with Harry Callahan, Ray Metzker, Vivian Maier, or Yasuhiro Ishimoto. The urban parade of anonymous characters, personalities, and odd juxtapositions that rolled by in the past are still rolling by today, and will continue to do so long after we are gone.

In a post-postmodern photographic era in which the prevailing critical aesthetic often seems to be dominated by extreme ironic banality, fantastical, highly produced neo-pictorialism constructs (whether via Photoshop or AI), or trendy, agenda driven social justice pieces, street photography still remains a compelling and dynamic way of conducting such a dialogue. (This applies, of course, to any city, town or particular locale, not just Chicago.)

Being a street photographer is somewhat akin to being a Blues musician. The form and framework, though it may vary somewhat, and bear the unique stylistic stamp of a particular artist, is a recognizable one that has existed for decades. New wine in old bottles as it were.

There is an odd, almost compulsive desire among those who practice, or appreciate, street photography to capture, and to view, an isolated slice of time in which a mystery, an untold story,, a hidden significance or a puzzling ambiguity maybe revealed or pondered over. This, I think, is one of the primary reasons for a photographer to engage in the practice of street photography. This sub-genre of the documentary form dissects and illuminates the candid, transitory, ephemeral juxtapositions of people and places that never were before and never will be again. While some of this could apply to other photographic genres (portraiture, landscapes, wildlife, or vernacular snapshots), it is a by-product of those genres, rather than being the defining benchmark that is is for street photography.

A street photograph is paradoxically both a fact and a fiction. It purports to be a literal records of a singular moment, but the reduction to only two dimensions, and the stripping away of the periphery by the act of framing, transmutes the image into something else. It is a fiction, yet also a reality unto itself, possessed of its own rules and potential consequences, imparting its own essence and truth. My photographs, while they appearing to be literal renditions of people and places at a particular point in tie, are also illusions of the literal. What appears to be evident in a particular image may or may not have truly existed in that moment. This is where the photograph becomes its own reality, an a viewer's interpretation is no less valid that the photographer's. Furthermore, it is often the case than any interpretation which presents itself is better perceived by the gut than by the mind: a visceral apprehension of what is, in many ways, a black and white world of two dimensional dreams.

When I step outside with my camera, I am looking to share the exhiliration and wonder of our human condition, and the random conglomeration of moods, vibes, postures and arrangements of people and structures to be found in the streets. These may, in turn, be amusing, puzzling, strange, nostalgic, or even possessed of a subtle potential menace. I am not superior to these people or places because I photograph them. I am merely chronicling and celebrating something which passed before my eyes. The people I photograph are not "prey" or "subjects" to me. They are fellow travelers. I walk among them and we are all equal.

I do not practice street photography for fame or money. No one becomes wealthy from street photography. For me, it is a labor of love, and a bit of an obsession. I did not suddenly decide, "Hey! It would be really cool to be a street photographer." The best way to put it is to say that I did not choose street photography, but rather that street photography chose me. Long before I even knew what street photography was, I always found myself fascinated by older photos from the 30's, 40's, 50's, and 60's. "Who were these people? What was happening in this moment? Why does this photograph elicit a sensation of somehow being connected to the people and moment of this photograph? Why do I feel a strange yearning for that moment in time and the era in which it was captured?" It was a natural progression from feeling moved by these photographs to picking up a camera and seeking to capture the moments of my own time and culture.

For those viewers, photographers, and flaneurs who appreciate the ever changing urban parade of people and moments, street photography is still very much a living art form. Lastly, there is much to be said for the value of creating a historical record of the zeitgeist of a particular time and place. This alone provides a precious glimpse into the past for future generations.