Dilemmas Behind the Lens
*The following content was taken from my previously used blog that documented my three week trip to London in January of 2011.*
I’ve been reflecting back on my first week in London weighing the importance and value of thoughts that I should publically share.
The cultural shock I experienced upon arriving to London hit me like a speeding colossal red double decker bus. Most Americans stand out in London like a sore thumb. From what I’ve observed thus far, Americans and Brits are polar opposites. I feel under constant scrutiny for my actions and that no matter how hard I try to disprove the stereotype of “dumb ignorant American,” people on the streets and tube still stare at me as if it is tattooed across my forehead. But these ruthless words are only an initial impression. Everyone is entitled to his or her own opinion, but I’ve been here for only five days and feel unjust trying to assert that my observations are reflective of all people in London.
I have a tendency to see things through the viewfinder. Instead of watching a subject with my own two eyes, ninety percent of the time my hand impulsively dives into my camera bag. But after only five days in London, I am becoming increasingly hesitant to act on this impulse. This regression can probably be attributed to my earnest attempt to earn respect of the Brits. Privacy is extremely valued here and despite the perfectly set up shots begging to be taken, I feel invasive behind the lens.
Today I went to the East London Mosque in Whitechapel with my project partner. We were given a tour and taken to the women’s division of the mosque (In Islam, women and men are not allowed to pray together.). We sat in the prayer room and conversed with some of the women before we heard the call to prayer over the speaker. As I watched the repetitive motions of the women standing, kneeling, and bending over with their bums in the air, I practically had to sit on my hands to prevent them from wandering to my camera. The lines of women and children moving rhythmically in vibrant hijabs and jilbabs was a sacred and private act I knew I had to respect. At the same time, I know I would take a photo if it was guaranteed that no one would notice.
At what point do photojournalists or photographers disconnect from their third eye to react as a normal human being? I want to cite a particular famous photograph to illustrate my point. In 1994, South African photojournalist Kevin Carter was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for his infamous photograph of a starving Sudanese child being stalked by a vulture (pictured above). Carter fell under harsh criticism for allegedly spending twenty minutes to set up the photograph instead of helping the emancipated Sudanese toddler. Later that year, Carter committed suicide.
In no way am I suggesting my situation resembles Carter’s. But I am implicating that we both feel the need to tell stories from behind the lens. Carter wanted to draw light to the hardships that plagued South Africa. I wanted to share the beauty and kindness of the people living life under Islam that many people are too ignorant to see.
What London has shown me in these first five days is that it is not always about the person behind the lens. No matter how good the intention, the subject can still feel offended or confused. Sometimes we as photographers need to set aside our cameras and sacrifice an ideal shot to take action as a human being. Whether it means helping a Sudanese child or quietly watching Muslim women praying to their creator, an action on behalf our or fellow man is worth more than any photograph.
