THE WAVE, The French Quarter, New Orleans 1992.
Just another night on the town . . . I’d left a bar and was in search of another one when this couple swept by and caught me by surprise. I yelled something at them to get their attention, fired off two or three shots and they were gone. I thought no more about it until I returned home and developed the films I’d taken.
Looking at the contact sheets on the light box and viewing the small images through a magnifying glass was always a thrilling but apprehensive experience. Sometimes you’d maybe get one useable shot and other times if you got five or six that you were really pleased with, you’d be mentally dancing about like an amphetamine-fuelled John Travolta.
As good as digital cameras are, I often feel they have taken away a lot of spontaneity from photography – everyone seems to take the first shot and feel compelled to look at the display to check it out. By the time it’s been analysed the magic has often gone. When I see photographers on the news doing this very same thing, I feel like yelling out to them to turn the bloody display off and get on with it.
Maybe if I’d taken my own advice, I wouldn’t have lost my mojo and my camera bag wouldn’t be covered in dust. So it goes.