Covid-19 -- People

After returning to Portland on March 13^th, Joanie and I have pretty much spent all of our time, like most everyone else we know, staying at home. One of very few exceptions is that I have walked city streets taking pictures. I’ve focused on four locations, always wearing a mask, and staying ten-to-twelve feet away from other people. Because of social distancing, I’ve abandoned the Leica Q camera I most often carry and am using a Fuji xt3 with a 18x55 zoom lens. I usually stand a few feet from individuals when I take their portraits, but of course Covid-19 makes that impossible – thus the change in gear.

Last week I had a conversation with a photographer for whom I have deep respect. Like myself, he makes photographs on the streets and situates himself very close to the individuals he portrays. He told me that he hadn’t been shooting on the streets. First: because of the stay-at-home order and the possibility of transmitting the virus; but also, because it was so different on the streets than it was in pre-virus days. While I understand and am totally appreciate his decision, I’ve made a choice to take pictures. And I must say, shooting during Covid-19 is very different for me than it was in the past. Unlike one of my teachers, Peter Turnley, I am not photographing the horrible price people are paying because of the virus, nor the heroic efforts of other individuals who are putting their lives on-the-line helping those who have the disease. Rather, I’m shooting people who are out walking, maybe going to a grocery store, and on some occasions individuals who are living on the streets of Portland. A dozen images are displayed below:

William Klein

I’ve been reading Aperture Conversations – interviews with various photographers that appeared in Aperture between 1985 and 2018. I’m picking out quotes in the interviews that I’m reading. Like the following quote from William Klein who was talking about his book Brooklyn with Aaron Schuman. He had mentioned that he always thought of Brooklyn as “Hicksville” because he was a Manhattan person.

There were things that happened in Brooklyn that I don’t think could happen anywhere else. One night we were watching a [minor-league] doubleheader: the Brooklyn Cyclones against the Staten Island Yankees. Staten Island, can you imagine? How can they be Yankees? Anyhow, we were watching the doubleheader and a guy came over. He recognized me and said, “I’m a Czech rabbi. I came over to Brooklyn in 1980, and I remember the 1985 playoffs like it was yesterday. Do you remember that?” And I said, “No, I don’t.” [laughs] And here’s this Czech rabbi reminiscing about the playoffs in 1985, and he said, “Do you want to see a Hasidic prayer session?” And I said, “Sure.” And this was at, like, midnight. So we went there, and they all had fur hats on; this was in August. And they said, “Okay, you can take photographs, but no faces.” Then after a while they relented and started coming over to me, saying, “Take a picture of that guy—he’s got an incredible face!” That was the weirdest evening I’ve had in a long time.