This is the third and – for now at least – final part of my Neighbourhood series. Over the last couple of months, I’ve spent a lot of time – though less than I would like – wandering the streets near where I live in Saigon, hoping to capture something of the character of the people and places I see every day.
I was very flattered earlier this week to have one of my pictures included in this post on street photography on the WordPress.com News blog. There are some great sites included in the post – I particularly like 365 from the archive and A walk with my camera, but they’re all well worth a look. It’s brought a lot of new followers to this site, so welcome everyone, and a big thnk you to the nice people at WordPress for featuring my picture.
All the pictures in the street photography post, including mine, are in black and white. I’ve been thinking recently about shooting more black and white pictures but, like a small child, I’m easily distracted by bright and shiny things and tend to default to colour pictures. Today’s picture is a case in point. I think it looks good in black and white – you’ll have to take my word for it – but I’ve opted to post the colour version, because the pink of her top and the green of the gates seem to complement each other. This was taken in Cholon, Saigon’s Chinatown, in between rain showers this afternoon.
More pictures from my neighbourhood, taken over the last couple of months. I’m really lucky that so much of Vietnamese life is lived out of doors, and that so many Vietnamese people are happy for an awkward, foolish-looking foreigner to take pictures of them.
Over the last few weeks, I set myself the task of photographing life on the streets near where I live in Saigon. These shots were all taken within walking distance of my flat, where districts 1, 3 and Phu Nhuan meet. I hope that this post gives you some idea of what it’s like to live in this neighbourhood.
This post continues last week’s theme of simple, uncluttered portrait pictures. I wouldn’t normally post two pictures of the same person, but I just can’t decide which of these I prefer, wider in colour or closer in black and white. What do you think?
I take a lot of portrait photos, as you will have spotted if you’re a regular visitor. Often, I choose a wide, or wide-ish, perspective to give the portrait some context, as in my last picture of the week. This week, though, I really wanted to focus on people’s faces, so I’ve been stepping out with my much-neglected 85mm lens. I wanted to take some simple, uncluttered pictures, with faces as the focus of attention.
I see a lot of different kinds of reaction when I approach people to take their picture. Hilarity, bemusement, sometimes irritation, but never hostility. Some people become self-conscious, almost standing to attention in front of the camera or, worse, pulling their camera face, sometimes accompanied by the dreaded thumbs up or V sign. These don’t make good pictures, but even the most reluctant or over-enthusiastic subjects will often start to feel more comfortable once they’ve seen a couple of pictures of themselves on the camera screen.
My favourite response, though, is that of people who simply carry on with what they were doing: smiling, frowning, dreaming, scowling, working. I saw this gentleman on Friday afternoon. I liked the way his t-shirt matched the rust on the metal gate behind him, but most of all I was drawn to his posture and expression. He was sitting just as you see here, with his head in his hands, not unhappy, but as if he’d got to the end of a long week and couldn’t quite muster up any enthusiasm for the weekend. I know the feeling. He barely moved while I took a few pictures, but broke into a big grin when I showed him the result. I can’t speak for him, but it was the highlight of my Friday.
Earlier today, I went for a late afternoon / early evening stroll around my neighbourhood. I had some vague ideas of capturing some street scenes or a city sunset, but as usual it was the people on the street that I was most drawn to. This lady is selling lottery tickets.
Sometimes, I go for a walk with my camera and nothing happens. Nothing inspires me, I’m not in the right mood, the light’s not right, it’s too hot, it’s too dark, I need a pee, it’s too bright, I’m hungry, I’ve got the wrong lens, I’m tired, the stars aren’t aligned, etc, and so on.
Other times, I stumble upon a great shot just round the corner from my flat. I walk past these blue shutters with their blue writing all the time, but on Saturday afternoon, there they were again, behind a nice man in a blue shirt who was happy to have his picture taken. It’s this sort of thing that restores my faith in photography, and in the universe in general.
I was in Hanoi the weekend before last for a friend’s wedding. It was a busy few days, but I found time on Sunday morning to take a slow walk down Hang Thiec, the street in the Old Quarter where household goods of tin and glass are made and sold. The resulting clanging, crashing and buzzing noises weren’t great for my post-wedding hangover, but the hazy sunshine provided great light for people pictures.
Cafe culture is alive and well in Hanoi. I like to think of these three gentlemen as earnest cafe philosophers, but they were probably talking about women and football.
My last visit north was in March, at the tail end of winter. It was cloudy and grey, both chilly and humid in a uniquely Hanoian way. A couple of months later, temperatures have reached the mid to high thirties, and jeans and scarves have been replaced by shorts and sandals. As a resident of Saigon, these seasonal changes are a welcome reminder of the passing of time, which seems to stand still in the south. Changes in the weather are less pronounced here. It’s dry or it’s wet, it’s hot or it’s outrageously hot. I suppose I was thinking a lot about the passing of time, as I spent much of the weekend in Hanoi catching up with old friends, idling the hours away in some of my favourite places. I lived in Hanoi for two and a half years, and for me, there’s something special about the place that’s hard to put into words. Although I’ve lived in Saigon for seven months now, Hanoi still feels more like home to me. Not to say that it’s an idyllic place – it’s noisy, dirty, sometimes infuriating – but it has a charm and character that Saigon lacks. This is partly nostalgia on my part, of course. My life was different in Hanoi, and I miss that time and those people as much as the place itself. But something tells me that I’ll be back, and for more than just a weekend.
Without an H 