Shutter Regret: Photos I Wish I Had Taken. And Some I Wish I Hadn't.

Happy Holidays to all of you! Wishing you love and peace.

In the chaotic dance of life, there exist moments when the universe seems to hand us a camera and say, "You must capture this!" Alas, the cruel irony is that we often fumble the opportunity or, worse, grab the camera when we should have left it in our bag / pocket. Friggin’ shutter regret.

Photos I wish I had taken

1.     A Brooklyn-bound D train is going over the bridge. A group of rowdy teenagers – three boys and two girls -- kick a crumpled beer can up and down the train car. Everyone, including me, pretend to read, knit, edit photos, or meditate through the noise. But the young hooligans are hellbent on getting a rise out of us. When no one steps up to the challenge, they start kicking the can directly at the passengers. My peaceful conflict resolution ideas promptly get tabled in situations like this (that’s why I don’t carry heavy, sharp objects), and I wish Aikido, which I’d started training in recently, were less about love and peace and more about kicking ass.

Just as the beer can hits the wall right above the man sitting next to me, the train stops at Atlantic Ave. The doors open and two giant dudes walk in. One black, one white. They look like dust gatherers from hell or construction workers from Queens – hard hats, steel-toed boots, matching lunch boxes. They smell of wind and wet cement. They sit down quietly and close their eyes. It’s been a long day.

The energy in the train car turns on a dime. The hooligans quiet down and huddle in a corner. Nobody says a word. They get off at the next stop. But the two giants continued to sit like museum statues, their lunch boxes on their laps, as the train keept moving south.

***I just stared at them, mesmerized. Didn’t even reach for my camera. I should have.

2.     “Look” says my wife and points at the Verrazzano Bridge, all lit up and enveloped in a fog. We’re coming from Upstate New York, having driven for a few hours. I’m tired. The last thing I want to see is a procession of cars traversing the bridge and vanishing into the ethereal fog on the other side, as if being engulfed by a celestial nebula. Yet I pull over to the emergency lane and turn on my hazard lights because I can’t take my eyes off the bridge.

***My phone camera couldn’t capture the magic. Alas.

3.     On the train again. This time it’s the F to Manhattan. Packed to the gills. A gorgeous middle-aged woman with green hair, large glasses, and a tattoo of a red butterfly on her cheekbone is seated by the window, drinking coffee from a designer cup. She exudes confidence and femininity.  I elbow my way toward her. Holding on to the pole, I lean in and, pretending to be looking out the window, press the shutter button on my phone. My flash blinds her for a second. What the f… was my flash doing being on?!
“Did you just take my photo”, she asks?
“Guilty as charged,” I say.
“Please delete it,” she says.
I oblige.
“And now delete it from your delete folder,” she demands.
I do as she says. Wouldn’t you?

***I should have turned off my flash and tried taking her photo again when she wasn’t looking. But I was no longer in the mood.

Photos I took that I wish I hadn’t

My wife’s friend’s undergarments. I went around the house to take a leak, saw the wet clothes hanging on the clothesline, and snapped a photo. I’m sure she wouldn’t want me to capture this, let alone publish it online. I feel guilty over it, naturally.

This young lady was furious with her mother. They spoke on the phone in Ukrainian, discussing her end-of-year school report. I could understand most of what she was saying, but not everything. I liked the darkness on the right side of the frame and her fixed, unchanging stare, which I hoped would convey a sense of emotional and mental stagnation. However, the photo didn’t visually capture what I intended. It seems more like a poorly lit picture of an average-looking sentient being.

It’s a cat picture, for Pete’s sake! Why couldn’t I control my photographic impulses?! A friend installed a Russian / Turkish bath hut in his backyard and threw a party for all the “steamer” wannabes. Perhaps I couldn’t think straight after steaming my bones at 135 degrees (C), so I whipped out my phone and took this photo. Needless to say, I’m embarrassed by it.

“Do not capture images of the vulnerable and individuals in compromising situations” is part of my Street Photographer’s Manifesto. The essence of this manifesto lies in respecting the dignity and privacy of those who may be experiencing challenging circumstances. I took this photo before I drafted the manifesto; but instead of erasing the photo I try to forgive myself.

Thanks very much for reading and viewing!

‘Til next year, folks!

ak