Many people asked, after reading last week's blog, if I give prints to those I photograph on the street (or otherwise). I always make an effort. It's the least I can do.
Back in the day when I used a Hassledblad camera, I had a Polaroid back. I'd pop that on after making a photo of someone, make another exposure, then presto! Sixty seconds later, I had a parting gift to bestow upon my subject.
These days it's easy, of course, to share pictures when using a phone (which I did for the Spanish Harlem portraits I posted last week). I simply ask for the subject's email or text, and I send the photo that way.
When working with my DSLR, I get a subject's contact info whenever possible. Prior to the days of easy communication via text or email, I'd make prints and put them in the mail. It was a lot of effort and some expense, but I've always believed making portraits of people is a collaborative experience, and that both parties should have evidence of the "dance" we did.
Back in 1996, I spent some time in the small fishing village of Sayulita, Mexico. When I wasn't hanging out on the beach or riding a horse through town (!), I wandered around making photographs of local children. In those days, no one was suspicious or fearful, and street photography was easy and fun to do. In Sayulita, as in many other places before and since then, my camera served as a way to gain access to people and places, even if my Spanish left a lot to be desired. I made some nice portraits, but it was difficult to get addresses from the kids.
But never fear! I was lucky enough to return to Sayulita 13 years later. By 2009, it was no longer a sleepy fishing village. I couldn't ride a horse through the streets, which were now lined with high end boutique hotels, and there weren't as many people hanging around outside. I was hopeful, though. I brought along the stack of the pictures I'd made in 1996 and set about trying to track down the children featured in them.
I had incredibly good luck (buena suerte). The children, who were now adults, hadn't strayed too far from home and were, in most cases, easy to find. Folks were happy to lead me to them or give me directions so I could find them.
Everyone I located was surprised, a little confused at first, and then completely delighted. I gave each of them their print and then took an updated picture. It was hard to tell who was happier: the grown-up version of the kid in the photo or me, the photographer! At any rate, we were all excited to see one another again and to realize that heartfelt connections can be made in the simplest and purest of ways.
Needless to say, my camera once again provided me (and others) immeasurable joy and meaning.
