Patience
I have been ahead of the beat much of my life. In dance, that is simply off time. It makes one look frantic. To be late, we dancers are taught, is to be “musical.” The dancer who is just behind the beat appears to relish the moment, and the observer can savor it as well. No need to hurry. The dancer and the audience become absorbed in the interlude.
This is a lesson I was taught many years ago by the late Bud Estes, a 10th-degree black belt in Danzan Ryu jujutsu. Move ahead of a knife thrust or a punch and your attacker will have the time and opportunity to redirect the attack to the trajectory of your new line. Wait a split second longer and the commitment of the attack can be countered.
Dance and martial arts, these are the wellsprings I draw upon to understand life. I thought of this the other day when my son ate a banana that he thought was going bad. He generally likes his bananas slightly green, with no visible dark spots on the skin. But as he was about to discard what he thought was an over-ripened banana, he took a bite. To his great surprise, he found the flavor even more delicious. He caught it at its peak.
Henri Cartier-Bresson (1980-1904), a French photographer considered to be the progenitor of street photography and modern photojournalism, published a book in 1952 titled, Images à la sauvette, or “Images on the sly.” The English title was The decisive moment, and it described the elusive goal of most photographers: Release the shutter the instant a composition is fully ripened.
“All things come to those who wait,” an old proverb says. But the second half of that saying counsels that while they come, they often come too late. So we get anxious and strike early, missing the decisive moment.
I bring this up because I just bought a new camera, the Sony Alpha 1. It can shoot up to 30 frames a second. Many photographers obsess over frame rate as a way to hit that decisive moment. And this camera, no doubt, might help. Or not. It shoots large files. The “spray and pray” method of photography will quickly fill up memory cards, decreasing the photographer’s opportunity to get the best shot as they fumble around for a new card. Richard Tsong-Taatarii, a talented photojournalist at the Star Tribune newspaper, once chuckled as he saw me snapping a lens cap on my lens.
“Do you know what we call lens caps?” he asked.
I didn’t.
“Too-late filters,” he said.
Lesson learned. There is no substitute for timing, and you cannot get the shot if you’re not prepared.
I recently returned from Savannah, Georgia, where I competed in a ballroom dance competition. I also had set up vendor table and solicited clients for my photography business. I was hoping to get some contracts for portraits. Alas, I got none, though dancers did stop to admire my work. Some took my business cards and promotional fliers. I didn’t want to return to Minneapolis empty-handed, so I decided to shoot some photos of a friend with our professional dance instructor.
Then I was asked by the parents of two other professional dancers if I had any images of their sons. I did, but I wanted more. So I shot the professional competition that evening. I was happy with the results and a couple of modest sales followed.
When I returned home and tallied my expenses and pending income from the trip, I realized that this was not a sustainable business model. But then I caught a couple of YouTube videos from some of my favorite photographers who counseled patience. Success in this business won’t come in one or two years, they said. It’s not unusual to spend a decade building a photography business to profitability. I remembered my dad telling me the story of the inventor who made a soda-pop. He tried 1-Up, 2-Up, 3-Up, 4-Up, 5-Up and 6-Up, then threw in the towel. The next guy, of course, invented 7-Up.
My next dance competition will be at the Twin Cities Open in Minneapolis July 8-11. I will have a vendor table outside the ballroom and will be offering portraits to dancers on location. (I won’t be shooting on the dance floor this time due to contractual issues.) Please stop by and say hello, even if you’re not ready to be photographed. All things in due time.