A recent discussion on Stills got me thinking about the importance of waiting for the right - decisive - moment. I think many of us often assume that some of greats of photography worked in a very intuitive sort of way, to the extent that there was very little delay between the conception of photo and it’s execution. There it is! Snap! While I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that some part of their work happened this way - particularly in the case of Winogrand - I think it’s also fairly likely that many of the most striking photographs were the prodcut of seeing raw potential that could only be fully realized at the right moment.

Lets take the case of the following image by Cartier-Bresson:

To quote one of John Ellis’ comments from the aforementioned discussion, “there is no way he got that except by saying to himself, I like the view from here and now I need a cyclist.” If you look at the way the angle of view is restricted by the buildings on either side of the frame, I think it’s clear that something like that must have gone on. It doesn’t seem possible that he could have seen the view and the cyclist together, and in the same moment brought the camera up to take the picture. It would have all happened too quick. He must have seen the view and waited for cyclist to fill that just right spot in the frame.

Waiting for just that right moment can be one of the most exhilirating aspects of photography. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not a great street photographer of the reactive type. I’m too timid, and my reaction time is far too slow. I am, however, great at waiting, a skill perhaps developed during my early and abortive landscape phase. Contrary to popular opinion many of the ‘unique’ moments of the street are actually quite repetive and cyclical; if it happens once, it will probably happen again if for no other reason because people are creatures of such powerful habit. Take the following shot - this time my own -as an example of this principle:

I first noticed the young man on the right as he was making googly eyes at the little girl. My camera was in my lap, but I could never have caught the fleeting expression in time. Instead, I preset my focus, double checked my exposure and waited for it to happen again. I had to waite 10-15 minutes for the episode to repeat, but eventually the two interacted again. This time, ready for it, I brought my camera up and snapped a few frames. Luckily they had locked eyes the second time just as the train had pulled into to the sation, making the chances of a shot not ruined by the low shutter speed much more likely.

For me this kind of situation is one of the most rewarding in photography. Seeing the raw potential for a great shot, knowing enough about the dynamic of the situation to know when and if it will happen again, and eventually finding just that right moment to make something out of that potential strikes me as far more intresting than reacting instantly to what’s happening around me. Perhaps this is why I prefer HCB to Winogrand, and it probably explains why I don’t share Colin’s or John’s view that the above HCB photo is too contrived or forced. I like it so much because it is contrived in the original and non-perjorative sense of that word; it’s planned with clever intent to create something that wasn’t there before he waited for that cyclist to ride into frame.