Thoughts about Luck

When I was a wee boy, my worst habit was, my mother always says, that I used to run away. I would disappear. The search party would eventually find me in a neighbouring village. Even in mid-winter, with snow and ice and what not. Mind you, this was in rural Germany, where most people knew each other and each others' kids. Still, my escapades could've turned ugly. And now that I'm a father, I can understand how terrified they must've been.

I don't know whether it's the embers of that old habit that doesn't want to die, but I still enjoy wandering off. Preferably on an early morning with a camera. If the stars align, luck could be on your side.

Talking about luck in photography, I used to love this kind of "lucky coincidence" snapshot, but I'm not a big fan anymore. I mean, unless you are a true wizard, how many times in a lifetime can you pull a hare out of your hat? And if the only talking point of the photo is such acrobacy, without any other redeeming quality, so much for the worse.

Maybe it's an age thing, but nowadays I gravitate towards "quiet observation and contemplation". The photographer Robert Adams (one of my favourites) recalls that when asked how he found his pictures, he said, I paraphrase: "they happen where I stay long enough". I personally find this so profoundly true. Don't rush, give it time and you might start to see beauty even in the most mundane looking things.

Palace Street

Close to where I lived in Istanbul there was this 1st floor balcony where someone had copied Millet's famous painting "The Gleaners" on the wall. It made me smile every time I passed the building. Sometimes the man who lived there - maybe in his late 60s - sat in front of the painting, enjoying the sun, watching the odd passer-by. I often met his eye, but never approached to ask whether it was him who'd made the painting. Not that I was shy. Sometimes I just do not want to know, because the mystery feels more appealing. In hindsight, I probably should have tried to make a photo of that scene.

There was another wall-painting that I also loved. It's a well-known character of a famous Turkish cartoonist, the late Latif Demirci. That one I didn't want to let slip. On a grim day during Covid and amidst the economic crisis, I made this photo.

There is one nuance I should explain for the non-Turkish speaking reader. The street sign on the right, which is actually only half of the complete street name, reads "Palace Street".