Like this:

One of the last processions to enter the Cathedral in Seville Easter Saturday.

Olé!

Plaza in Carmona.

Casa de Carmona. Amazing place.

An original Roman entrance to Carmona with Vegade Carmona, one of Spain’s most fertile valleys.

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-Camerón, not sure the name of the song

“To me, photography is the simultaneous recognition, in a fraction of a second, of the significance of an event as well as of a precise organization of forms which give that event its proper expression. I believe that through that, through the act of living, the discovery of oneself is made concurrently with the discovery of the world around us, which can mould us. A balance must be established between these two worlds, the one inside us and the one outside us. As the result of a constant reciprocal process, both these worlds come to form a single one. And it is this world that we must communicate.

But this takes care only of the content of the picture. For me, content cannot be separated from form. By form, I mean a rigorous organization of the interplay of surfaces, lines and values. It is in this organization alone that our conceptions and emotions become concrete and communicable. In photography, visual organization can stem only from a developed instinct…We work in unison with movement as though it were a presentiment of the way in which life itself unfolds, but inside movement there is one moment at which the elements in motion are in balance. Photography must seize upon this moment and hold immobile the equilibrium of it.”

-Henri Cartier-Bresson, The Decisive Moment

I include the above quote not to attempt (with what would be total delusion) to include myself in the company of one Henri Cartier-Bresson. I do so for three reasons: 1) I just finished a book about Magnum Photos, which Cartier-Bresson and Robert Capa (see first Scenic World entry “Arrival and Departure”) co-founded; 2) Photojournalism and documentary photography couldn’t be described better or more beautifully; 3) My photographic intentions were brought into question on two recent occasions.

The first time was in Aljezur, Portugal where I asked to take a picture of an older couple as they sowed seeds in the fertile fields separating the old and new sections of town. Many Portuguese still farm completely manually and chemically free, which is really refreshing to see. As I walked by one day I asked them if I could take a few photos. They obliged and I treaded across their field being careful not to walk where they had planted. The man was working really slowly and was obviously quite tired. After about five minutes he started saying something angrily to me in Portuguese, which I interpreted to be, “You f*#%ing tourist, I’m old and tired and I’m working my ass off just to feed my wife and I and here you are on your little holiday walking through my field photographing us like we’re some novelty postcard you can send back to wherever the hell you’re from just to say, ‘Look, I was in Portugal and it’s soooo quaint.’” I got the point, thanked them and left.

The second time was in Carmona, a beautiful pueblo outside Seville. I was wondering the side streets when I came upon a family walking towards me. Two of the kids were playing fútbol and I asked the father (in Spanish) if I could take a photo of the kids. He looked at me cautiously and said that it wasn’t normal for someone to take photos of children. I explained that I was harmless and that it is what I do for work but by that time the moment was gone and he still seemed suspicious. Being thought of as a perv really tends to ruin the magic of such a moment.

These aren’t unique experiences to photographers; they are realities working photojournalists have to deal with every day, usually in much more difficult situations than my recent ones. I had an interesting discussion with my friends about it on our way home. My argument was that, first of all, I asked; secondly, it’s a public place; and thirdly, I think it’s a sad situation when the first thing a person thinks is that I’m photographing their children for sinister purposes. My argument was that it was ridiculous for the man to think that I would take such pictures in broad daylight and while asking permission. My friends said that I have to understand that the parents are just trying to protect their children and that I should understand not everybody knows my intentions. Fair enough, although I didn’t need to be told that parents have to be mindful and protect their children from the many dangers of the world we’re living in.

So, what are my intentions, I kept asking myself? In the case of the farming couple, I wanted to document a form of agriculture that is sorely and destructively lacking in our world. It was — however vain in its efforts — an attempt to pay tribute to their arduous and important work. I couldn’t explain that in my horrible Portuguese, but I don’t suspect he would have been interested anyway.

In the case of the family and the children, what can I say but that kids are cute? That’s probably not a sufficient explanation (and probably still sounds dubious). So, I’ll try my best: my intentions were simply to capture a careless moment of play to show its innocent beauty. Plus, adults — including myself — need to be reminded of how important those carefree moments are.

Maybe I’m looking too far into it. They’re just photos after all, but this conversation keeps coming up in my travels. I guess I really don’t know how to explain it in the end, especially because I often see a moment and take a photo without asking. In those situations to ask would be to interrupt the scene and ruin the moment. And who am I to ruin a beautiful moment? Just another shameless stealer of souls, I suppose. I can’t help it; it’s a scenic world and we’re all part of it.

Speaking of shameless photography, we went to see the last two Semana Santa processions in Seville on Easter Saturday evening. They weren’t letting anybody in so I strolled up and told them I was a photographer for El Mundo, the largest newspaper in Spain (I’m not). When they asked for credentials I gave it the ol’ pocket pat and search until they finally just let me in. Sure it was a lie — and in front of one of the largest cathedrals in the world no less — but something tells me Capa and Cartier-Bresson would have approved. Maybe even Jesus too.