Shibuya Crossing: Why Street Photographers Hate It, Why I Love It.
A man takes moment in the busy passages of Shibuya station.
Shibuya Crossing
Shibuya Crossing is one of those places on people’s bucket lists. I have seen that wide-eyed first impression many times over. I experienced it myself for the first time in 1999. I felt an overwhelming sense of awe, still fresh in my memory. That feeling is the same whenever I experience something new on a grand scale. Why do so many street photographers loathe a place so rich in possibility? The simple answer is tourists.
Tourists frequently acquire a negative reputation for detracting from the appeal of an otherwise remarkable location. It is fundamentally a matter of numbers; a significant crowd can render the experience uncomfortable. A more nuanced explanation for the disdain some street photographers hold for Shibuya Crossing is that they have yet to discover their identities as artists fully. A more compassionate way to articulate this is that they are in the process of self-discovery as artists. Without pretense, when individuals possess clarity regarding their creative intentions, they effectively bring about those intentions. There exists no opportunity to deliberate upon pursuits that do not align with one’s creative interests.
I want a moment. That is what I shoot in street photography. It is what I shoot in all other genres of photography as well. I don’t consider what is popular, what has been done before, just the moment. It must be a fraction of time expressed in a nearly tangible format. I need to be able to taste, smell, almost touch, and feel it. I fail at this all the time.
10 minutes of failure, this image, then 20 minutes more failure.
I fail at this all the time.
That is why I do not consider any alternative other than my instincts. What I want to capture is everywhere; it becomes a matter of preparation, timing, and luck. With this mindset, every spot in Tokyo has potential. Any location can hold promise; it just depends on vision and patience. Can I see it? Will I be able to wait for it? Again, I fail constantly.
Failure becomes fuel. I burn it to illuminate my past experiences and drive new experiences. I burn all that to shape my hand as an artist. I keep a big fire to run the forge that will one day produce an ounce of originality.
I look forward to the challenge of a touristy place like Shibuya. There is a moment of authenticity in everyone there. How hard are you willing to work to find it, and how many times are you willing to fail? A simple answer should start near an infinite number of times.
Pushing Past Uncertainty
A gatekeepers uncertainty
Maintaining control over information and deciding what information is correct for others rather than using it too often is the fate of the mediocre. Having found their way to the middle but unable or unwilling to move forward, they build a community of mediocrity to sit atop. This artist is sure of everything except what to make next. They know history, they know gear, they know all the right things, but not themselves. In this arena, they are uncertain about everything.
It is here that you move forward. This is done by simply letting go of all the rules. Letting go of all the knowledge squirrelled away in the recesses of the mind and create. In most cases, something brilliant is just around the corner, but not without some failure first. Fail through it and keep shooting; don’t take time to care about the rules in your next image, just make it. Then make another and another, and soon you will take the first steps towards mastery. Mastery is certainty through action. A gate that can not be kept as its entrance is wide enough to be infinite.
Do you see it?
