Physicality in photography

I am a street photographer: I never leave home without my camera. I prowl around in my world with my small camera hidden inside my right paw. The metallic surface of the camera against my skin calms me down. I start to flow with the stream: alert but relaxed – waiting for something to happen. I trust my scent, which often leads me to the ‘right’ place at that famous ‘right’ moment. There it is! My muscles tighten and I start either to run or to prowl. I am fast; I am careful and move according to the dictates of my subject. I am focusing my sights; my breathing is shallow and then, when I snap, I forget to breathe totally. My mouth dries and the roof of my mouth gets numb. Then, I feel like laughing.

At home, the tension eases off. Did I have a good catch of the day? Was I patient enough with the composition of the picture? Was I careful enough? Was I too hasty? The eye of the ‘hunter’ turns off. I do wonder, ‘Was it all worth it?’ Disappointment eats my energy. My lungs run out of air.

I glance outside. What was that glint of light – that flash of movement? Is there still time? Light changes; shadows move. I pick up my camera and I´m on my way again.

Previously I worked as a press photographer for fiteen years. I had the same sort of passion (which is my basic nature) in that work as I have had as a street photographer. While working with articles it often surprised me – was this how I saw things? That was the time when journalism changed. News photographers were standing on the other side of enclosures, ambushing targets that were hiding behind closed doors. As a result of hours of waiting there was the possibility of catching a glimpse of someone telling you what the state of things was. The flashlights sparkled but there were no visual fireworks in the political arena.

‘You move like a panther’, said one reporter to me once when we were doing an article at an international congress. As time passed, I grew more and more tired with the ambushing. Routines exhausted me. The steps of the panther began to weigh too heavily. I stopped and hid my photographic equipment in the back of my cleaning cupboard.

And then, one day ten years later, suddenly on the street the grey veil blocking my vision was torn; fresh flow of images exploded in front of my eyes…

Pirkko Tanttu

(Translated by Betsy Ettorre, Irmeli Laitinen and Kristiina Mäkinen)