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Fred Zafran’s new show, 7th and H Streets, NW, at Multiple Exposures Gallery, is an exploration of the historic Old Downtown neighborhood in Washington, DC. More than a simple depiction of the character of the neighborhood, the images form a psychological 
landscape that communicates the spirit and presence of place. Fred offers insights into the joys of street photography and how they led him to this exceptional new portfolio.
Congratulations on the opening of your new exhibition. Would you tell us a little about your photography and way of working? I am principally an urban photographer and most of my work takes place “on the street.” My way of working is to set out with very little equipment… usually just a single camera and lens. I wander the streets observing, listening, trying simply to be present. I find joy in exploring without plan or preconception, remaining open to the unanticipated “stories” that the day may offer.
I’m also looking for things — settings, circumstances, people — that typically wouldn’t be found together, but when connected (framed), create a new and stronger narrative. Joel Meyerowitz, a well-known street photographer, has described it as “photographing the relationship between things.”
Do you choose specific locations to shoot or do you wander until you see something intriguing? Both really. I remain open to the possible, but at the same time, I’m drawn to settings with extraordinary light. I am always looking for illumination that “textures the darkness” because it is here that light itself imparts its strongest meaning. If I find a spot with extraordinary light, I will explore this location until I find the right vantage. Then I might stop and wait (…and wait some more) until an idea or opportunity presents itself. I could be at a single location observing and waiting for quite some time before I begin to press the shutter.
Would you share more about your new project and portfolio of work? For a year, I returned repeatedly to the neighborhood surrounding 7th and H Streets, NW, in 
Washington, DC. This is the historic "Old Downtown" DC and the corner of 7th and H Streets may be considered its "epicenter." The neighborhood is defined by the intersection of three distinct subcultures – a popular DC entertainment quarter, a Chinatown fading in decline, and a shadow world of those struggling and living too close to the street.
There was something about this neighborhood that kept bringing me back, to wander the streets, to explore, with the intent to document what I saw.
The images in your portfolio feature people from a number of different vantage points – at street level, from outside on the street looking in, from close and from farther away. Does vantage affect “comfort level” and does this change based upon proximity? In some cases, I’m very close to the people within the frame I’m capturing. Often I will have to react quickly to capture the image envisioned. If I have the time and opportunity, I like to engage, say hello, share a bit about what I am doing… and ask if it would be OK to make a photo.
When I shoot from the outside in, I sometimes go to the window, raise my camera and with a gesture, silently ask permission. Often the person will nod and smile and indicate they are OK with the situation. When you get close to people in street photography, you just have to work through any potential discomfort that arises. Connecting with people is part of the magic of street photography.
What do you want people to take away from your images? If my images are successful, the viewer will want to come back to look again. Alex Webb, a Magnum photographer and another well-known street photographer, describes less successful photos as “one-note” images – mildly interesting, but you look once and don’t care to come back again. Successful images ask questions, communicate emotionally on multiple levels, and don’t readily yield up their answers.
What advice do you have for individuals interested in exploring street photography or improving their street photography? It is helpful to look at the images of master photographers whose work was largely accomplished on the street. Examples include 
Andre Kertez, Henri Cartier-Bresson. Ray Metzker, Josef Koudelka, Fan Ho, Saul Leiter, Sam Abell, Alex Webb, Joel Meyerowitz, Helen Levitt, Daido Moriyama, and Vivian Maier.
However, the most important advice is really to pick up your camera, head out and make photos… and then go out and do it some more. When shooting on the street, go without plan or preconception. Simply wander, be aware, and remain open to the possible. I would also follow Sam Abell’s sage advice to “look for the setting first.” Let the light lead you to the right circumstances, compose, wait, and often the subject will find you.
The opening reception for Fred Zafran’s new show, 7th and H Streets, NW, will be held Sunday, March 2, 2014, from 2pm-4pm, at Multiple Exposures Gallery at the Torpedo Factory Art Center in Alexandria, Virginia.
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| (c) E.E. McCollum |
MEG member E.E. McCollum describes the evolution of a photographic series.
For the past 3 years, I've been working on a project I call the Cocoon Series. The project started quite by accident when a model I was working with - Katlyn - showed me a tube of stretchy nylon material, six feet or so in length and sewn closed on one end.
"I think you'll like this," she said, and wriggled into it.
Suddenly,
the figure I saw in front of me was transformed. The fabric stretched
around Katlyn in such a way that the space of the body was made manifest
and Katlyn's creative poses took on a sculptural quality. I was
hooked. Ways to make images of the body in the cocoon kept coming to me
long after that first session.
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| (c) E.E. McCollum |
As
I explored photographing the whole figure, I began to wonder what it
would be like to have two models in one cocoon. Two adventurous models
agreed to try. The two figures together suggested relationship and
contact as the figures wove together. I also began to explore moving
closer to the models and not including the entire figure. My creative
model/partners began to play with the concept of the two together
producing images that are by turns beautiful, and odd and unsettling.
We struggle to orient ourselves as we look at them.
We
also used fish line to pull the nylon up toward the ceiling,
manipulating the space that the cocoon defines. It seemed to work best
when it followed the contours of the body. Again, the models responded
with such creativity to this new approach and, together with one, we
created what has become the iconic image of the series.
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| (c) E.E. McCollum |
With
another model, I shot with a harsher light directed from a different
angle. The result was a more graphic sense of the body and some mystery
as the body disappeared into the shadows. The project went on and
on. We stained the fabric with facial mud and body paint to accentuate
texture. We tore it provide a sense of emergence. I shot a male model and a male/female couple. Each time I think it might be done, a new idea comes to me.
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| (c) E.E. McCollum |
This
is the first sustained artistic project I've done and I've been
reflecting on what I've learned from it. First, I think a sustainable
project needs to be based on something more than
just an idea. I took a class once and a fellow photographer showed her
project for critique. She had decided to do a sustained piece of work
and cast around for an idea or theme, she said. What she showed, at
least in my view, was somewhat lackluster, although the idea itself was
intriguing. I think it's because one can't set out to do a project. The
project has to capture you. The cocoon came along unexpectedly and
captured me emotionally right from the start and that seemed to enliven
the work. There must be something emotional in the mix if you are to
live with a body of work as long as a project demands.
Secondly,
I learned that things change. The cocoon series started as individual
images. Early on, each image with interesting solely in its own right.
The more it continued, however, the more I saw the images relating to
one another with prior images providing context
for the later ones. It took time for it to became a project, in other
words. It developed organically. I also have to remember that the
earlier images are very familiar to me and have lost a little of their
freshness because I have seen and worked with them so much. But that
isn't true of most viewers. As I make a selection of the project for a
publication or show, I try to include images from throughout the
series. The recent ones are of more interest to me because they
represent my growing edge. But you have to have faith in the strength
of the work throughout.
Finally, I think you have to have the
dedication to follow the project to its end while recognizing that it's
hard to know when to stop. So far, every time I think I've gotten to
the end of the Cocoon Series, something new has occurred to me. I don't
know how long it will continue, or if the work will grow stale after a
while. Nevertheless, I remain committed to following it to wherever it
needs to go.
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Images from The Cocoon Series
will be on display at the Art League Gallery in the Torpedo Factory
from March 13th through April 7th, 2014. Selections from the series can
also be seen daily at Multiple Exposures Gallery in Studio 312 at the
Torpedo Factory.
E. E. McCollum can be reached at info@eemccollum.com
MEG member Danny Conant shares some suggestions for getting out of a photographic rut.
Most of us have had the feeling at times of being stuck or stale in our photographic life. It’s no fun working on something that doesn’t inspire you or hammering away at a piece that 
you secretly know you are never going to like. So we need to refresh and get out of that unproductive rut.
Over the years I have found some things that have given me a jump-start to pulling out of the rut. If you are feeling uninspired, make time to visit a gallery or museum or studio of an artist. I say make time, not take time, because you will say, “I don’t have time.” I don’t have it either, so I have to make it by perhaps giving up something else.
Sometimes it’s better to see a painting exhibit than one of photography. You may come away with some new thoughts after seeing what is driving that particular painter or sculptor or printmaker.
Other suggestions are to do something different even if it is a little uncomfortable and/or take a class to learn something new or challenging. Recently, I took a writing workshop in Tuscany, even though I know nothing about real writing. The first day I struggled along as I wrote the assignment. While that alone wasn’t comfortable, an even more terrifying part came when I had to read what I had written to all of the other accomplished writers. The good news? The earth didn’t open up and swallow me and everyone was too polite to ask why was I in that class.
At the end of the day, I was fine with the whole process. After five days of work, I came away with a new feeling for words. And while I still love my visuals, one day I’m going to 
put them both together.
Another favorite inspirational help is belonging to a couple of small low-key groups of like-minded photographers who get together a few times a year to share ideas and work.
Finally, when an image is just not responding to me after a reasonable amount of time, I simply let it go. There will be other images.
Overall, I think my main tool for getting out of a rut is my lack of fear of failure. If I am afraid of failing, I won’t try anything new or push my boundaries at all.
Danny's work can be seen daily at Multiple Exposures Gallery in the Torpedo Factory Art Center in Alexandria, VA.
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