Street Photography Therapy for the Socially Anxious
“If I wrote prescriptions I’d stick one on your camera,” Kent said with a grin. I’d been showing my therapist some of my photography in downtown Charlotte and spent easily the first 15 minutes just gushing over how I felt about it. The thrill of walking among strangers and seeing the beauty in everyday living. The anxiety of pointing a camera in their direction, framing and taking the shot. And the horror-filled aftermath of realizing I’d been noticed and wondering what happens next.
I’ve been playing with street photography for nearly a year now. So far, my nose remains unpunched. I’ve had a few dirty or amused looks, and maybe a couple of shouts, “f-off” comments, and otherwise anxiety-confirming moments.
But the moments where either nothing at all happened or better, there was a moment of connection, far outnumber the negatives.
Would that our less rational sides understood how little the average person cares about what you’re doing…
Here’s why I’ll pass on my prescription of street photography for the socially anxious individual:
- It’s inherently awkward yet there’s always an escape.
Often when doing any sort of exposure therapy, we worry that there’s no way out. If we go to the party, we’ll be trapped and commit a faux pas when our tolerance is met. And then our minds will chew on how rude we were by leaving early and “now Sue hates you and the office is going to buzz about it come Monday.” With street photography therapy, you can leave anytime you wish and that knowledge can make it easier to “embrace the suck,” to use a bit of military jargon.
As a street shooter, there’s literally no one to talk to after the moment is past. The people in front of your camera aren’t your friends, coworkers, family, or anyone else that might cause future anxiety. They’re mirrors— confirmations and challenges of the thinking patterns holding you hostage. Each person can show you what beliefs you hold before, during, and after the encounter, whether you aim the camera at them or just keep walking. And each bit of mental chatter can be examined and challenged in ways that might be impossible in relationships you’re invested in. What a gift these strangers are offering!
- There’s a Flow
Don’t think it’s all sweaty palms and sullen glances. Well, sometimes. Often. Maybe I’m not helping my case here. But what’s amazing to me is that you hit your stride very early in. I think most of us are familiar with the idea of hitting Flow, being in the zone, finding your Zen in sports, art, or other activities.
At first, you’ll drive out to your location and then the excuses start rolling in.
“You know, parking’s so expensive lately. And I still need to do XYZ. And it’s hot out. Maybe I should just head back.”
Parking is expensive but try it anyway. Take some baby steps and ask for street portraits from likely-looking individuals like buskers or cops. Or go to a public event and start shooting. Eventually, you can graduate to snapping people without asking. Flow starts to kick in and suddenly you realize you’re slightly more resilient to not only your own mental commentary and physical discomfort but even outside negativity, should that occur. You’re looking down at your viewfinder and laughing because the image turned out marvelous. And then the next moment you’re shooting without asking. Again, I find outside objections extremely rare.
- You get to collect mementos of your bravery.
Each time you take the shot and it turns out as good or even better than you’d hoped, you get to savor it on your screen. Or maybe even print, frame, and put it on your wall! Or maybe even someone else’s wall — I had a tattoo artist friend ask for prints for his shop. Completely unexpected yet it turned out he loved my style.
The more mementos you collect the more you reinforce, consciously and otherwise, how much possibility, beauty, and good fortune there is in not playing it so damn safe. That stepping off the eggshells doesn’t always lead to disaster.
- You open yourself up to possibilities
One of my favorite moment as a street shooter was at Point State Park in Pittsburgh. Sometimes when I see people taking couples or model selfies with a smartphone I tell them that I’m a professional photographer and I’d love to do a shoot for them. It’s a great way to get business cards passed out and it’s just fun to take a break from candid shots and practice portraiture.
One especially photogenic couple posed for me as I shot a good dozen images. As I was about to put up my camera, Jared asked if I’d take a few more shots for them. I agreed, swapped lenses…And then he went down on one knee.
Later he told me he took a photographer offering to shoot as a sign that this was the moment to propose. I got a bit of cash for my time in editing and some great portfolio shots. Did I end up shooting their wedding and becoming a world-famous wedding shooter? No. Yet I had a blast and smile every time I look at the images. And it never would have happened if I’d stuck to keeping my feet firmly planted on my eggshells.
- Whether you take the shot or not you’ve just learned something about yourself.
I didn’t realize this until around the 1 Year mark. Everything that happens is a lesson if you can treat it all as data. As grist for the mill without getting too wrapped up in the goal of getting the shot.
Last weekend was a gorgeous day in downtown Taipei. The sun was blazing, creating hard shadows, and everyone was milling about doing exciting things. I turned a corner and saw a child sobbing in her mother’s arms. Tears streaming, face scrunched…So raw! What an image that will be!
I raised the camera about three inches…And then put it down and kept walking. “Do you want to look like a pedophile? You can’t do that! Now you look awkward and everyone’s looking and wondering at your camera and see how bad you feel now? That was silly.”
What did I learn in those three seconds? I learned that shooting children still scares me. That when I’m afraid I suddenly feel as if everyone sees both me and my camera. That fear blows things out to immensely oversized proportions and distorts my sense of perspective and self. That I feel my heart pounding and I lost track of the sensation of my feet, my breathing, and the sun. That I was shunted directly to my thinking mind the moment my anxiety became physically frightening and that I had no control over that process.
And that in envisioning the worst-case scenario, my emotions are invoked. To my body and mind, I’ve just been berated as a pedophile and creep. Whether a passer-by did it or my thoughts is irrelevant — it’s as if the situation already occurred! I might as well have taken the photo — at least then my physical and mental suffering would have been worth it!
I’m a subscriber to body-based therapy methods, by the way. That we trap and hold emotional energies in our bodies as much as our minds and that communication (and healing) occurs constantly through mental, physical, and emotional channels. Thus: to my body-mind, that scene was as if it actually happened simply because of the thoughts that were arisen. A mini-traumatic event. Yet one I was able to observe mindfully instead of buying into the storyline.
Did I get the shot? No. But I had an educational, mindful, somatic experience with no consequences beyond being uncomfortable for a few seconds. Something that would have been intolerable a year ago. Plus, my mind doesn’t have additional ammo like “what about when they see you next?” because there won’t be a next in that interaction. If I felt especially anxious I could choose to take a pit stop at a convenience store, let my cheeks stop burning if I so chose, or even call it quits for the day. I achieved my goals in learning something about how I work and deserve self-congratulations.
You’re committing to a 95% chance of having your intentions misunderstood and possibly forcing yourself into an uncontrolled encounter with a stranger. Are you sweating yet? I’ve read works by a number of prominent street photographers and nearly all of them say it never gets easy. It gets easier but never easy. Isn’t that wonderful? If even the pros don’t find it easy then your feelings must be normal! Over-attended to by our thoughts but normal!
We’re wired for connection and the juice you feel, the inherent scariness of street shooting? That’s what makes it compelling and potentially good. In a world where we’re barraged by constant scenic views from the other side of the world and perfectly posed portraits on Instagram, a well-timed image on an ordinary street in your hometown can still have you coming back for a third and fourth look.
It’s inherently vulnerable — any readers of Brene Brown out there? Holding hands with strangers, that was one of her tips in “Braving the Wilderness.” Maybe you choose to hold hands with sunglasses and a 70–200mm lens from behind a bush. But it’s a good beginning! Work your way up to a 24mm lens and shove it in someone’s personal space like this.
This shot’s one of my favorites. When I ask for reviews a few people will tell me how rude I was for intruding and the others love the intimacy. And then I feel bad because of negativity biases. Grist for the mill. And then I look at it some more and just delight that I was willing to take the time to be awkward, expose myself to criticism, and take the shot. I get to delight in the hidden compositional elements that I didn’t even realize that I saw at the time. You might not like the shot. But I love it — and every time I look at it I feel like going out to shoot again. It’s one of my favorite mementos.
That’s what gets me out on the streets. The love of the art but also a chance to prove to myself that people are not out to get me. To do something that smashes me up against the distorted yet familiar self-image I hold to and crack the funhouse mirror just a bit.
The voice in the background that says “why would you do such a thing? You can’t do that. Don’t you remember that time when..?” It gets a little softer each time you really listen and wonder if that’s your own voice or not.
