Based on a very unscientific, anecdotal survey of thousands of photography students from all the years of teaching I did, it’s a wonder there are any pictures of people at all. A substantial number of people say they are not “people” photographers. I get it. Landscapes hold still and don’t talk back, normally.

But if you were to look at a collection of those peoples’ photos you would almost certainly see a number of people pictures, of family and friends. The avoidance (and that’s what it is) is about approaching strangers and asking to photograph them. I get that, too. At 18 I was a shy kid suddenly a staff photographer at a daily newspaper. Photographing people for an assignment was “the family/friend” picture, easy because it was already a given when I got there. But to do the “Man on the Street” interviews, cold stopping strangers on the street, was a real struggle.

Fortunately there is a relatively painless option to photograph strangers, by going places where they expect it–farmers’ markets/fresh markets, festivals, etc. This photograph was from a summer in Prague where multiple performances of concerts and theater were all around, and young people were hired to promote the events on the street. (Barbara and I saw a performance of Don Juan at the Estate Theater where Mozart conducted the premier almost 200 years earlier, handing the last pages of the score to the orchestra just before the show. Pretty cool.)

A quick nod and ask for permission, a quick yes, snap, and move on. Don’t dwell. Of course take a minute to be sure the background is not close behind the subject, and by moving a little left or right you may be able to make the background simpler, less distracting, more supportive of the portrait–micro movements that change the relationship between the figure (subject) and ground (background).

There are some costumed-target rich environments that are a photo hustle, where the actors expect some cash in the hat for the photo. If you like the look, pay up. It’s a lot cheaper than hiring a model.

For more of Bill’s photographs, go to https://www.billdurrence.com/index/all

“Whimsy” is a word I seldom reach for, but the discovery of it is one of the great pleasures and rewards of aimlessly wandering unknown streets in distant cities.

For more of Bill’s photographs, go to https://www.billdurrence.com/index

I have recently become fascinated with the endless contortions of growth in the numerous oaks in our extensive urban/suburban forest. I see tentacles reaching for the sky, the ground, and all in-between, each attempting to stake a claim to some portion of the light. Larger, older trees seem to defy gravity; I wonder why some limbs don’t fall just from their own weight. Younger versions feel positively spry. This photograph is how I imagine Ents, from “Lord of the Rings,” should look.

It is hard to see clearly in your own hometown, because you become immune to what you see everyday, no matter how beautiful or curious. It’s all just background noise, as we go from one task to another.

A friend and former Nikon School colleague still does some small group photo trips, and told me he wanted to bring 6 people to Savannah for a few few days; would I help with the itinerary, and would I like to assist? Of course. Helping with the itinerary meant I could show the group more of this region than just the “Historic District” (technically the “Historic Landmark District” since we have something like 15 designated historic districts).

Assisting was a bit of a concern for me. It’s been about 10 years since I’ve done any teaching, and I have not kept up with a lot of camera/photography technology advances because…I don’t want to! Been there, did that, for about 50 years. So my role was to just talk as we went, about making pictures, what to look for, what to look out for, where to stand, etc. It took a day to really get into it, but it was fun, except for not being used to intense 12 hour workdays anymore. And what I got in return, watching them, was a fresh look at home.

For more of Bill’s photographs, go to https://www.billdurrence.com/index

As I went walking that ribbon of highway
And I saw above me that endless skyway
I saw below me that golden valley
This land was made for you and me

I roamed and rambled, and I’ve followed my footsteps
To the sparkling sands of her diamond deserts
All around me, a voice was sounding
This land was made for you and me “This Land is Your Land” Woody Guthrie

The first recorded ‘Road Trip’ may have been “The Odyssey,” but the Siren call of the open road seems a particularly American thing, although that could just be a kind of patriotic home team pride. Whether on foot, horseback, Conestoga wagon, train, or by car, we long for distant, unknown landscapes, from the Louisiana Territory to the Moon and Mars. And when the road beckons, many of us find resistance difficult.

Watch my back and light my way
(My traveling star, my traveling star)
Watch over all of those born St. Christopher’s Day
(Old road dog, young runaway)

They hunger for home but they never stay
They wait by the door
They stand and they stare
They’re already out of there
They’re already out of there “My Traveling Star” James Taylor

When I was attending the University of Georgia in Athens, my girlfriend at that time, still in Savannah, sent me a card with a Carole King lyric inside, “So far away. Doesn’t anybody stay in one place anymore?” We commercialized wanderlust; anyone sentient in 1950’s America could finish this jingle by the second note:

See the USA in your Chevrolet
America is asking you to call Advertising jingle for Chevrolet

In the 1960’s we all watched the same TV shows, and I fantasized, like many of my classmates, of driving a sporty convertible through the west, with no particular place to go, or time to be there. A few years ago, a Nikon School colleague and I talked about renting a vintage Corvette and doing the Route 66 drive, but realized that trunk wouldn’t hold all our camera gear, let alone luggage.

Well, if you ever plan to motor west
Travel my way, take the highway, that’s the best
Get your kicks on Route 66 “Route 66” Bobby Troup

It’s a seduction, the magnetic pull of mystery, a presumed promise of something more, better, a pot of gold at the end of the asphalt rainbow.

I’m going up the country
Baby, don’t you wanna go?
I’m going to some place
Where I’ve never been before “Going up the Country” Alan Wilson

For more of Bill’s photographs, go to https://www.billdurrence.com/index