Travel & Humanitarian Photos
This town is going to be a highlight of the trip. I know that as soon as I step out of the car and cast my eyes up and down the quiet street, stretching after the three-hour drive. Immediately, I get a sense of a serene ambience, not the eery quiet of a neglected town but the perception of a quiet contentment. This small Chinese town is off the beaten-path, rarely visited by the tourists who head for the more (to them, at least) tantalising delights of Dali and Lijiang.
Street vendors have set-up shop on the pavements, patiently waiting for customers to buy their spicy pickles or perhaps to bring their clothes to be mended, or to present details of a sign to be elegantly hand-written. There’s no sense of the hustle and bustle that typifies the towns. Life is lived at a slower pace here. It’s a pace that suits a visiting photographer who enjoys the patient approach. Yes, this town is definitely going to be a highlight.
I unpack quickly, eager to be out on the street. I select a wide-angle lens, my beloved 16-35mm f/2.8 and an 85mm f/1.2 for those narrow depth-of-field portraits, attach each to a camera body, sling them quickly over a shoulder and head out. It doesn’t take long to find a subject. Ten paces from the wooden entrance doors to the small guesthouse where I’m staying a man is delivering three squealing pigs. He pushes and cajoles them from the back of his small truck and then they’re off, trotting up the narrow alleyway, sniffing and snuffling in every doorway they pass.
Once they’ve turned a corner I continue to the main street and follow an approach that has become something of a habit, starting wide, capturing the scene, establishing context, resisting the temptation to dive in with a longer lens, trying to ensure that I’m conveying something of the peace and serenity of this calming location. Descriptive words to inform my approach come to mind easily: “Unhurried”, “Spacious”, “Tranquil”. I set up my position and select my perspective, choose my angle of view to create compositions that will reinforce these elements.
One building in particular catches my eye, appropriately rustic with a childlike arrangement of doors and windows, it’s a very “housey” looking house. But what it really needs is a charismatic old gentleman wearing a much-loved hat to come around the corner, preferably carrying a stick. And if he would just take a seat… there…
The power of positive thinking and the fortune of having lived an entirely blameless life come to my aid and all that good karma provides the compositional element that I’m hoping for.
The gentleman is a monk, it transpires. A rather cheeky monk who, you might recall from my earlier post, decides that some good-natured teasing of a visiting English photographer will provide his entertainment for the day. I invite him to join me at a nearby coffee shop where he writes his name – or, rather, names – in my journal. As a child he was called Shi Sun Yu but when he went to school his teacher renamed him Shi Yu Cheng. In later life he became a monk, Shi Chong Shun, and lives by that name today.
As I wander the streets, the lack of urgency in this town gives me room to breathe, space to think. There’s no rush, no need to hurry and it takes me an hour to walk up one small street, a street that it would take me two minutes to walk if I didn’t have a camera in my hand. This is a rich environment for a photographer and nobody I pass fails to offer a welcoming smile.
I’m sticking with the wide-angle lens but choosing a closer perspective now, enjoying the opportunity to sit with with people, sharing a mutual fascination, their amusement at seeing the tall, ungainly westerner with his cameras and paraphernalia matched by my intrigue, my desire to understand who they are and how they live their lives. It’s a great game where everyone feels that that they’ve made a new friend. Over the next few days in this small town I shall see faces that will quickly become familiar and we will exchange waves and “Hellos” like old buddies. This is a very comfortable place to be. I find it potentially disingenuous when people who have visited a location only a few times claim that it’s like “going home”. Of course it’s not, don’t be so silly. Yet this town could very easily become a “homely” place for anyone prepared to give it more than a cursory glance.
Over the course of the next few days, I discover that this town also offers an atmosphere that is conducive to building friendships. I make new friends from far-flung places and over numerous cups of coffee and pu’er tea we hatch a plan to lease one of the properties in the main square and to open an art gallery selling wildly over-priced photographic prints. We don’t expect to ever sell any. Indeed, we agree that it might prove to be a disappointment if we did. It’s simply a device, a means to an end, a reason to stay. Not that we really should need a reason. It’s probably just our western sense of needing to justify our presence. Few things could be of less interest to the local people than an art gallery. I mean, who needs to hang art on the walls when the walls are works of art in themselves? Still, we might also sell incense, it’s made near here and the occasional tourist that wanders through inadvertently might buy enough to keep us in fresh cappuccinos.
Over the next few days I am welcomed by everyone I meet and even invited to attend a house-warming party. I’m calling it that because I can’t think of an appropriate western equivalent but, essentially, on the day that the structure of a new house is completed, a red banner is wrapped around the main beam, firecrackers are lit and friends are invited to join celebrations. There is food for everyone and it’s washed down with an anonymous brew boasting the sort of mind-numbing strength that my father would have predicted “would put hairs on your chest.” Phew!
Eventually, reality strikes, nothing lasts forever and the onward path beckons. It’s time to leave this little oasis, this calming pocket of serenity and charmingly bucolic life. The sun sets right above the main street as children sprint, homeward bound. There’s just time for a final, lingering pot of tea and a long moment to savour the peace, to appreciate having the good fortune to be here. Today is enough. Tomorrow will bring new delights, fresh adventures.
The never-ending pot of tea is replenished often enough to keep me in the square until after dark and there’s one final image to be had. The ancient Chinese architecture is lit and stands in glowing relief against the darkening sky. I check the exposure, square up the composition and let the wide-angle accentuate the angle. It’s the perfect end to my stay.
Now, the following morning, I’m packed and preparing to leave. However, I find enough time to return to the square for one final pot of tea. Yes, I’m putting off my departure as long as possible, guilty of lingering. I’m searching for one final image, my “Signature Shot”, something that will sum up and define the essence of being here. It’s a tall order and having high expectations can sometimes lead to disappointment. But not here.
With a smile of sheer delight, with boundless joy, she skips and jumps up the street. I grab the camera carrying that oh-so-useful 16-35mm lens off my right shoulder (it’s a habit to always keep it on the same side), prepare to focus, get low for the best perspective and there she is, floating briefly, escaping the pull of gravity. For now, just for today perhaps, I know exactly how she feels. And that’s enough. More than enough.
beautiful jump, looks like levitating, makes me jump .
nice angle
Ah, I can see why you would be jumping for joy! Nothing like capturing the decisive moment of happiness. Enjoying your posts on China.
These are some great photographs that feel a little deeper, beyond the normal “street photography.” Maybe it’s the wide angle like you mentioned, or the town itself and its people. But whatever it is, they’ve got just a little extra to them. The narrative was a great accompaniment as well.
In addition the my endless appetite for shows like Anthony Bourdain’s No Reservation or Bizarre Foods, you Gavin are among the reason why I like to think I’ve developed more as a storyteller not just with my photographs but with my prose.
There’s the school of thought that believe that photographs should speak for themselves but I’m more keen to the whole process of photographer incorporating beautiful storytelling with their photos. You learn more about the artist because a lot of times, their voice, their unique opinions and ideas is what makes the viewer connect more with a photographer.
Wow Gavin, you had my heart jumping for joy reading this blogpost.
Amazing photos as always, but I especially love your writing in this post.
Wonderful post. I think you should write more or at least wider than a blog. Seriously, there is so much personality in your writing and your pictures. Ooh I feel a project coming on….
Thanks for the encouraging comments. It’s nice to know that posts don’t get lost in the virtual ether and that they’re being read and appreciated. Comments always welcome, especially positive ones like these
Gavin, this is such a beautiful post, it really conveys the feeling you had when you were there. I felt like I could amble through it and really take my time to savour the images and writing even in the midst of a busy day – much like you took an hour to travel along that small street.
Gavin your narrative and the photographs are simply marvelous. Beautiful work.
Superb collection….
A wonderful blog entry/narrative that captures the essence of travel writing and photography by revealing the soul of the village… and the writer/photographer. The images are fresh and alive. Well done!
This is visual storytelling and travel photography/cultural reportage at its best. We are right there with you enjoying the new friendships and savouring the ambience ‘off the beaten track’. Your ‘happy hour’ on the street reminds me of a similar experience when a scooter puncture in rural Cambodia left me an hour to wander up and down a one street village and interact with the people (and animals) there as my host tried to get it fixed and the golden hour approached. The post suggest the potential for a photographic equivalent of a Bill Bryson book. Although being an ethnic minority in an otherwise Chinese family helps me here I must say I am really enjoying vicariously experiencing your journey through China.
Just wonderful.
Nuff sed.
Your stories are wonderful. Keep them coming. Living vicariously through your adventures is not difficult at all!
I enjoyed a cup of tea while reading and savouring the images Gavin. Thanks for that beautiful post
Ellie
Terrific post, Gavin. As others have said, I feel like I’m right there with you as you wander and explore this beautiful village and its people. I’m simply going to have to find the time someday to attend a workshop or even just hang out with you, and maybe Mr. Ryan, that other English photographer we both know in common.
Again, well done. I enjoyed this immensely.
This why I keep coming back to your blog. Wonderful pictures. Have a happy bithday>
Beautiful, I read it and re read and can’t get tried of reading it. Due to a very bad internet connection I could not see the photographs and had to let my imagination go! Now I’m looking at them and they are magnificent especially the one at dusk…Great job, keep writing this way, I enjoy it a lot (but you already know it).
Superb! You made me feel as I was right alongside you.
The descriptions, the backstory, the insights of your writing really add to the whole and the images show that you really had a connectyoon with the people you were photographing. Travel photography at its best.