ยฉ Trent Parke
Street Is Not a Reel
In recent years many photographers have been doing two jobs at the same time without really admitting it. On one side they try to make photographs, on the other they try to feed an algorithm that wants something completely different: pace, frequency, duration, faces to camera, audio, a hook in the first two seconds. The result is that the street stops being a place and turns into a set for vertical clips to be silently consumed with a thumb.
Platforms are not designed to make an image last. They are designed to make your stay last. The feed wants movement, it wants you to stay there, not to stay inside a photograph. Static images now float at the bottom and, if you donโt push them with money, endless carousels, video, they slip away almost invisible. Itโs not a conspiracy against photography, itโs simply that what you do and what the machine asks for no longer overlap.
The problem starts when photography bends itself to fit nicely into the format. Street โdesigned for TikTokโ, built to be edited into clips, with backstage, the subjectโs reaction, the before and the after. You are no longer working on the image, you are working on the story around the image. That can also be interesting, but itโs a different job. The photograph is still there, but itโs just one frame in the tale of โhow I made itโ.
From the point of view of an independent publisher, this is not about nostalgia, itโs about taking a stance. A book doesnโt ask for watch time, it asks for your time. It doesnโt have to compete with cooking reels or dance trends, it doesnโt need to โhookโ in the first two seconds. If you start thinking your photographs in terms of how they will work in that environment, you stop asking yourself how they will work on the page, or in the head of someone who looks at them slowly.
Maybe the distinction has to be said clearly, even if it stings: if the first question you ask yourself is โhow can I turn this into content?โ, youโre no longer doing just photography. Youโre doing communication, entertainment, platform storytelling. That might be perfectly fine, if you choose it. But if what really matters to you is the image that stays, then at some point you have to decide where you want it to live. Because the street is already confused enough as it is, without having to perform for the algorithm too.
Marco Savarese
Editor-in-Chief
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Marco Savarese
Marco Savarese is Editor-in-Chief at Eyeshot, the independent publisher he founded in Italy in 2018. He spends most of his year reading portfolios, judging the Open Call, and editing the magazine catalogue. The reading desk is open, and he takes one-to-one Professional Reviews from photographers working seriously on long-term projects.
Who Finishes Your Photograph
NOTE #210. A photo isn’t finished until it survives to where people see it. Paul Strand chose hand photogravure for Photographs of Mexico so the printed copy kept the tonal weight of his prints. Protect the tone to the end, or the worst medium decides for you.
What the Dark Does
NOTE #209. A face lost in shadow reads as underexposed, a defect to fix. Gordon Willis kept Brando’s eyes in the dark in The Godfather and held it against the studio. Before you rescue a shadow, ask what it does; if you can say it, you decided it.
The Place After
NOTE #208. Of a huge event, often only an ordinary place is left. In On This Site (1996) Joel Sternfeld photographed fifty banal American places where violence happened, each with a line of text. Photograph the aftermath, and let the line do the work.
The Photo Made Together
NOTE #206. Street photography teaches you to steal people; there’s another way. In Malick Sidibรฉ’s Bamako studio the youth chose how to be seen. Before you take someone, ask how they’d want to look, and make the photo together.
Write Your Own Rules
NOTE #205. The thing that improves you most isn’t a new camera, it’s a short list of your own faults. Tony Ray-Jones kept a notebook of orders to himself and it shaped Martin Parr. Write your three rules and keep them in your pocket.
Watch the Master Work
NOTE #204. You don’t learn from a master’s finished prints, you learn from watching them work. In 1962 Joel Meyerowitz watched Robert Frank shoot, quit his job that day, and picked up a camera. Watch the body, not the result.
The Work Before the Name
NOTE #203. The worth of a photo and the worth of the byline are two different things. Koudelka shot the 1968 Prague invasion anonymously as ‘P.P.’ and revealed it sixteen years later. Photograph what must be photographed even when no one will know it was you.
The Subject You Run From
NOTE #202. The strongest subject you have is the one you’d rather not photograph. Ishiuchi Miyako went back to Yokosuka, the occupied base town she was taught to fear, and made it her life’s work. Point the camera where it’s uncomfortable.