Andrea Taurisano
il cimento
Most of us are comfortable with photographing strangers. Some do that at a distance, some right in their subjects’ faces. Some the candid way, some even exchanging a few words to them. Often we share street people photos on forums and our own websites. No model release is needed for non-commercial use of pictures, as long as the content of those images is not such that a recognizable subject could be offended or somehow humiliated by it.
Yesterday I came across a series of photos of a man I met a few years ago in the most touristic area of an African capital.
I saw him first walking a bit unsteady and trying to establish a contact with other tourists, who just avoided him. Then he came to the bench where I was sitting and talked to me.
He had rather worn out clothes and carried a half full plastic bottle. From his first words, it became clear to me that he was drunk-ish, but not so that he couldn’t tell his story. He also told me I could take photos of him, which I did.
He bore a beautiful old Italian name, little in use today, like a grandfather’s name. He was in fact partly of Italian origin, emigrated as young boy to find fortune working out at sea. While telling his story he kept drinking strong spirit from his bottle and within minutes became less and less clear in his speech and even unsteadier in his sitting posture. But he did manage to mention a woman, long before in his life, and that he now was staying at a homeless care center. He was clearly very lonely, so carefully avoided by the crowds.
I couldn’t do much more for him than give him attention and finally ask two police officers to drive him back to his center as tourists now were starting to laugh at his deteriorating state. And I never published those strong portraits of him together with his story.
Probably I should have tried to contact him later on, sober, to ask for a release for both pictures and story, but I didn’t. So I assume that, even though well meant, the publishing of this “photo story” wouldn’t be nice reading to him or his family. So I’ve refrained from publishing it.
But I have also often thought that the non-commercial publishing of such a photo story could make someone else think of him and the many less lucky people our cities are full of. Does that mean helping them, you may ask? Don’t know.
What do you think?
Yesterday I came across a series of photos of a man I met a few years ago in the most touristic area of an African capital.
I saw him first walking a bit unsteady and trying to establish a contact with other tourists, who just avoided him. Then he came to the bench where I was sitting and talked to me.
He had rather worn out clothes and carried a half full plastic bottle. From his first words, it became clear to me that he was drunk-ish, but not so that he couldn’t tell his story. He also told me I could take photos of him, which I did.
He bore a beautiful old Italian name, little in use today, like a grandfather’s name. He was in fact partly of Italian origin, emigrated as young boy to find fortune working out at sea. While telling his story he kept drinking strong spirit from his bottle and within minutes became less and less clear in his speech and even unsteadier in his sitting posture. But he did manage to mention a woman, long before in his life, and that he now was staying at a homeless care center. He was clearly very lonely, so carefully avoided by the crowds.
I couldn’t do much more for him than give him attention and finally ask two police officers to drive him back to his center as tourists now were starting to laugh at his deteriorating state. And I never published those strong portraits of him together with his story.
Probably I should have tried to contact him later on, sober, to ask for a release for both pictures and story, but I didn’t. So I assume that, even though well meant, the publishing of this “photo story” wouldn’t be nice reading to him or his family. So I’ve refrained from publishing it.
But I have also often thought that the non-commercial publishing of such a photo story could make someone else think of him and the many less lucky people our cities are full of. Does that mean helping them, you may ask? Don’t know.
What do you think?
Last edited by a moderator: