Accused of Exploitative Photography
Thoughts on how I approach photography and writing.
Note: I sent this out with two copy n’ paste spelling errors. I corrected them here. I hope you enjoy the read and please subscribe and share!
Today, I posted a photo to a Facebook photography group. I shot the photo near the Eaton Centre in downtown Toronto. That day, I took the subway, the trolley, the bus, and walked about nine miles to see everyone and everything. The sun warmed my skin and I felt excited about hitting the streets early. I started the day at the Greek bakery in the neighborhood where I rented an apartment; every morning, the family that owned the bakery would talk with me about their food and life in general. It was Gay Pride that day, too, so most people seemed ready to party, gay or not.
I love those kind of days.
In the middle of everything, I spotted this woman and took a few shots of her. She shared a bit of her story and said she knew I wanted to take her photo. She said I should want to take it. She said that a lot of people think she’s a child:
Most of the FB people who’ve reacted to the photo like it. Others accused me of exploitative photography, claiming that the woman couldn’t have given consent for the photo because she looks mentally unfit. I pointed out that they think she’s mentally unfit because she’s dirty and sitting on the street, prejudice on their part.
I told one commentator that her rant bored me.
Because the woman in the photo was in a public place, she didn’t need to give consent. That’s why photos from wars and events like 9/11 and October 7th exist. Photos of people laughing on amusement park rides, dancing in nightclubs, and strutting their style on the streets throughout various decades exist, too.
Sometimes, I talk to the people I snap and sometimes I snap from the shadows. Sometimes they stumble or skateboard into my frame like this guy I captured from a restaurant window:
A photo that upsets you doesn’t always qualify as exploitative. I look for colors, juxtapositions/relationships, and shapes. I don’t set out to take photos that make people feel like a million bucks, though I’m not against taking them. I don’t seek misery, either. I shoot what I see; sometimes, I don’t shoot that. I feel honest working this way and this approach makes me able to interact with all kinds of people in all kinds of settings.
I’ve always been the person people talk to or stare at on the subway while they take off their clothes or do pull-ups. One time, I got on a subway car with a lady who sat in the corner after taking a shit on the floor then laughed at me as I ran to the next car to dodge her rolling “bullets”. Man, that next car was crowded, and people actually patted me on the back as I made my way through the car. People have drawn me as I sat on public transport; one guy gave me his drawing before exiting the train and said, “You’re much prettier than this,” and I thought, “God, I hope so.” I wrote about these encounters because I think they highlight humanity in various ways.
I wrote about helping a pregnant woman who collapsed from a possible drug overdose. I wrote about a couple having sex on a bench outside of a restaurant in TriBeCa. I wrote about living close to the Towers and being diagnosed as a Type 1 and the deaths of two men I loved. I wrote about picking up a chair and moving it while a woman sat in it because she refused to move so I could get to my plane. I write about my depression. And now I take photos to tell stories in another way as well as to expand on my writing. I photograph abandoned buildings and dogs. People. I do all this to tell stories of encounters with beings and things and settings, however fleeting the intimacy. I think it matters. It doesn’t change the world.
One more thing: I understand critiques because I went to a theater conservatory that required an audition to get into and that cut students even after they got accepted. We all endured public reviews of our scenes and plays, and these critiques sometimes turned brutal even if they made sense. I also used to belong to Zoetrope and if you ever wrote on that site, you know what I mean.
An accusation differs from a critique. People might not like my style of acting, writing, or photography. They might offer valuable critiques and I appreciate those. But my work isn’t exploitative.
Thank you for this insight into your work. And keep going!
That post title really got my attention, Tara. Thank you for sharing your experience - I confess I still get irritated by the kind of finger-wagging and attempted shaming you mention, but I suppose it's just another part of the world we live in. We must keep doing what we are called to do - I'm glad you are undeterred in your approach to record the world as you see it. 💛