CliveC
Well-known
This week at the funeral of my uncle, the hall the visitation was in was bathed completely in the most perfect light I've ever seen. The people gathered to pay their respects cast long shadows and it was if the heavens opened up in tribute.
Despite this, and having my DSLR in my bag nearby, I could not bring myself to take photos. I was explicitly told not to and the camera was only there to capture the flowers so that the people who bought them could be thanked. Even so, I would've been very reluctant to photograph the event anyway and in the end, I probably made the right call.
So, what's the best photograph you could not bring yourself to take? Do you regret it?
Despite this, and having my DSLR in my bag nearby, I could not bring myself to take photos. I was explicitly told not to and the camera was only there to capture the flowers so that the people who bought them could be thanked. Even so, I would've been very reluctant to photograph the event anyway and in the end, I probably made the right call.
So, what's the best photograph you could not bring yourself to take? Do you regret it?
Interesting. I cannot think of one, though I know there have been some. I try not to think of photography that way or I'll go crazy. I just photograph what I get when I'm out with a camera and do not get upset if I miss something. I think you made the right call in that situation.
grapejohnson
Well-known
i once wrote a poem about these kind of moments. i figured if i didn't have the balls to take the picture, i can at least immortalize the scene in some way
Cold
Established
Interesting that this would come up so soon after the rare experience (for me) of being in the right place at the right time, with a camera, knowing it'd be a hell of a shot, and deciding not to shoot.
This past Memorial Day (just a few weeks ago) I was travelling through a small town in Virginia and we happened upon the community's Memorial Day celebration in the middle of town, with several vets, their families, and the decor, food, music, etc. that goes along with the day. They certainly knew the reason for the day, but overall there seemed to be a more jovial vibe than a somber one.
Then, just a half block from the celebration, I saw an older gentleman with a Navy hat standing at the town's memorial, alone, head leaning against one of it's stone faces.
I was moved by the scene, but it seemed that taking a picture would have, at very least, cheapened the experience, if not been fairly insensitive/insulting to the man.
This past Memorial Day (just a few weeks ago) I was travelling through a small town in Virginia and we happened upon the community's Memorial Day celebration in the middle of town, with several vets, their families, and the decor, food, music, etc. that goes along with the day. They certainly knew the reason for the day, but overall there seemed to be a more jovial vibe than a somber one.
Then, just a half block from the celebration, I saw an older gentleman with a Navy hat standing at the town's memorial, alone, head leaning against one of it's stone faces.
I was moved by the scene, but it seemed that taking a picture would have, at very least, cheapened the experience, if not been fairly insensitive/insulting to the man.
Mlehrman
Mlehrman
When I visited Dachau in 1973, I had my SRT 101 full of Tri-X. My expectation was that I would fill the roll quickly. I don't know what the camp looks like now, but back then it was virtually empty of tourists. Deserted. I could not take one picture. It was not a rational decision, but I recall an almost physical force restraining me from peering at the camp through the viewfinder. I still do not understand it.
Vics
Veteran
I recently threw a big party for my wife's 70th, and it was a rare opportunity to get a good picture of she and her sibs together, and it just never crossed my mind! DOH!
sepiareverb
genius and moron
Without a doubt this one:
L Collins
Well-known
Prince Charles approaching me (I.e. not the other way around) to shake my hand. No camera around.
CliveC
Well-known
Well, that's different. You didn't exactly have a choice.
Spavinaw
Well-known
The untaken photograph I remember best was of an old barn in the middle of a very large plowed field with the setting sun shining through the aisle of the barn. I didn't have a camera with me, and the next time I was by there the barn had been torn down. 
raphaelaaron
Well-known
Every time I go out without my camera it never fails that a perfect shot was missed.
It never fails. Perhaps I'm just more aware when I realize I don't have my camera.
It never fails. Perhaps I'm just more aware when I realize I don't have my camera.
DtheG
Established
There are of course countless times I did not have a comera, did not get it out of the bag in time, or was pointing the wrong way, pressed the shutter too late, too soon, wrong expose, someone/something moved into/outof frame, etc.
But that is not your question, which is rather more interesting, "could not bring yourself to take". Could have but declined the opportunity. And there have been some such occassions though I find it hard to remember the details and that suggests that the pictorial potential was not that significant. They were not taken because it would not have been the right thing to do and that was more important than photography.
RWaldron
Member
A hundred or so years ago while I was still at college, I was asked to take a college van from Indiana, PA up to Erie to deliver artworks for a juried show. Along the way I stopped in the heart of Amish country to stretch my legs. Lo and behold, across the street there comes an Amish woman and her three daughters each dressed in identical dresses right down to the duck bill-like head gear. Best of all, they were walking in single file with the Mother up front and the three girls each following the other in descending order of height. I had my camera ready in hand, but I understood that the Amish frowned on having their photos taken - something about icons I believe. I was tempted, but the impulse felt disrespectful. Still remember the missed opportunity all these years later.
Randy
Randy
Godfrey
somewhat colored
I don't know. If I didn't take a photo, I have no memory of potential photos ... there are too many of them.
G
G
kossi008
Photon Counter
+1 on that. This is why I always try to bring a camera. Which, by reverse Murphy's Law logic, means I never find any interesting shots. D'oh!
clayne
shoot film or die
Many times. But sometimes I just like to enjoy the view.
Paul Jenkin
Well-known
Today is a rarity for me. I don't have a camera with me (aside from my iPhone which, as far as I'm concerned, doesn't count). I usually have anything from my GR1s to a Mamiya 7 about my person, so I'm hoping my commute from London to home is completely boring and without incident....
The best photo I never took was one of a huge herd of deer chasing through a beech forest full of bluebells a few years ago. The camera was on a tripod slung over my shoulder and I couldn't get it ready to shoot before the deer had melted into the background. Really frustrating as it would have made a great motion / blurry shot.
The best photo I never took was one of a huge herd of deer chasing through a beech forest full of bluebells a few years ago. The camera was on a tripod slung over my shoulder and I couldn't get it ready to shoot before the deer had melted into the background. Really frustrating as it would have made a great motion / blurry shot.
emasterphoto
Established
Sounds like you all would enjoy this book, if you're not already familiar with it:
http://http://www.thephotographsnottaken.com/
Good read about this very question.
http://http://www.thephotographsnottaken.com/
Good read about this very question.
russelljtdyer
Writer
In the Chair
In the Chair
I've had several moments in which I didn't take a photo because I was too timid or thought it too inappropriate for me to take the shot. There was, however, a similar situation that I experienced once that you might find interesting.
Last year when I still had a Canon EOS 5D II, I convinced a young woman friend of mine to let me take her picture. I told her that I would set up my studio photography equipment at home one Saturday afternoon, if she would sit for me for an hour or so. She was a little reluctant about getting her picture taken in such an intentional way, but agreed since I assured her that she would like the results--and since she had such terrible photos of herself on her personal profiles on the web.
When she arrived, I had not yet finished setting all of the equipment. I had the background up, the lights assembled but not positioned correctly yet, and the camera on the tripod. I had more tweaking to do. Since I had a chair in front of the camera for her to sit on, she sat down to wait for me to finish preparing.
When she sat down, it was like an experienced patient plopping down onto her psychiatrist's couch. She launched immediately into a lengthy discourse about her life, her disappointments, her problems from childhood, and bad experiences in recent and old relationships with men. Her observations about her life and life in general were fascinating. She wasn't mentally disturbed or any such thing. She is just very self-aware and observant. I should have taken only fifteen minutes more to get ready to take her picture, but I stood there leaning on the camera and tripod listening to her talk for about an hour before I began taking the photo shoot. Her discourse required little or no interaction from me. I listened mostly--which is very strange for me since I'm a talker.
As I listened to her, I was so tempted to click on the video recorder of the camera. Her comments, coupled with her body language and facial expressions seemed to me worth preserving. They seemed valuable. I could have done it and she wouldn't have known. But it didn't seem right. After about twenty minutes I told her that I was tempted to record her comments. She said it was fine with her as long as it wasn't posted on the web. I said, "No. Some things are perhaps best left to memory alone and kept only to those present." She smiled slightly and then went resumed her comments about life. In the name of testing the lighting, I did snap off a few shots of her during this hour. Above is one of them.
In the Chair
I've had several moments in which I didn't take a photo because I was too timid or thought it too inappropriate for me to take the shot. There was, however, a similar situation that I experienced once that you might find interesting.
Last year when I still had a Canon EOS 5D II, I convinced a young woman friend of mine to let me take her picture. I told her that I would set up my studio photography equipment at home one Saturday afternoon, if she would sit for me for an hour or so. She was a little reluctant about getting her picture taken in such an intentional way, but agreed since I assured her that she would like the results--and since she had such terrible photos of herself on her personal profiles on the web.
When she arrived, I had not yet finished setting all of the equipment. I had the background up, the lights assembled but not positioned correctly yet, and the camera on the tripod. I had more tweaking to do. Since I had a chair in front of the camera for her to sit on, she sat down to wait for me to finish preparing.
When she sat down, it was like an experienced patient plopping down onto her psychiatrist's couch. She launched immediately into a lengthy discourse about her life, her disappointments, her problems from childhood, and bad experiences in recent and old relationships with men. Her observations about her life and life in general were fascinating. She wasn't mentally disturbed or any such thing. She is just very self-aware and observant. I should have taken only fifteen minutes more to get ready to take her picture, but I stood there leaning on the camera and tripod listening to her talk for about an hour before I began taking the photo shoot. Her discourse required little or no interaction from me. I listened mostly--which is very strange for me since I'm a talker.
As I listened to her, I was so tempted to click on the video recorder of the camera. Her comments, coupled with her body language and facial expressions seemed to me worth preserving. They seemed valuable. I could have done it and she wouldn't have known. But it didn't seem right. After about twenty minutes I told her that I was tempted to record her comments. She said it was fine with her as long as it wasn't posted on the web. I said, "No. Some things are perhaps best left to memory alone and kept only to those present." She smiled slightly and then went resumed her comments about life. In the name of testing the lighting, I did snap off a few shots of her during this hour. Above is one of them.
Rodchenko
Olympian
Interesting. Jo Spence et al recognised the therapeutic value of photography, even of putting oneself in the frame as a way of focussing (sic) on the issues.