As someone who grew up playing sports all year round — baseball, basketball, golf, football, running, hell, even ping pong — it’s been my main frame of reference for the practice of street photography I discovered in my 30s.
So when I picked it back up in August, I focused on just that: its practice. (Yes, in the immortal words of Allen Iverson, “we talkin’ ’bout practice.”)
If I was going to reactivate my photographic muscles to regain my form, the main thing I needed was repeated at-bats. Everything else would fall into place if I kept swinging, I thought.
I think baseball is an apt comparison because even the best players only get a hit three out of ten times. Most of the time it’s swing-and-a-miss, which similarly describes street photography — and sets it apart from other genres. It’s defined by failure. The only way to eventually connect is to keep on swinging.
And swing away I did.
From the end of August through September and into October, I shot thirty-seven sessions; almost every day I went out in Chicago, to street festivals, the Loop, Mag Mile, and the lakefront. All of the spots I’d roamed years ago. And I stacked up the strike-outs.
I felt like my eye was sharp — I was seeing things. Especially in environments I knew the terrain. But I was slow and hesitant and ham-fisted in lining up the lens. It was like seeing in real time, but moving in molasses. The gap was frustrating.
Late in October was when I caught up and made contact for once. It was at the zoo, a place I’d mostly ignored in the past. I’m in awe of the animals as much as anyone, but, man, it’s the people there that are wild.
Then two days later it happened again through the back window of a CTA bus. No hesitation with my Coolpix in hand to, click, capture a passenger blowing a bubble (a motif I’ve been chasing for a while).
Finally, it felt like the practice was paying off. After sharing both photos with my critique group and receiving positive feedback, I posted “Meat Lovers” and “Bubble on Board” to Flickr as part of my The Chicagoans series. The first was selected by Street & Repeat for their “Fav5” from November and December. The second was accepted to Full Frontal’s Flashgun, my first into their highly curated group.
Two nice pats on the back. Not saying they were “winners,” but they definitely weren’t misses. More than anything, it was invigorating to see something and actually capture it in a frame that worked.
To me, that’s what street photography is all about: memorializing a moment you find special, an overlooked or unexpected slice-of-life that you can hold still and say, “See?!” And it’s worth looking at more than a minute (or at least a pause from scrolling).
Accomplishing that is a helluva task — and a helluva drug.
Suffice to say, I’m hooked again. And swinging a little better at the plate. I know it’s almost entirely failure ahead. But, dammit, being able to get a hit along the way makes all the misses feel worthwhile and the practice a lot more fun.
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