Shoot First, Ask Questions Later?

When I was first interested in photography, I bought a copy of The Family of Man, Edward Steichen’s selected photographs for a MOMA exhibition celebrating human life, birth to death. To write this, I grabbed it down from the shelf and dusted off the cover. As powerful as ever, I marvel at its complete documentation of an era. Now I see where I developed my love of black-and-white imagery. Somehow, black-and-white conveys a purity of intention and motion that can get lost in the glamour of color. Flipping through its worn pages, I stop at two different, but same, portraits of three generations. On one page, an African family from Bechuanaland (now Batswana) poses outside their grass hut (Nat Farbman for Life); opposite, an American family gathers around the wood stove (Nina Leen for Life). There is a stark contrast in lifestyle but there is a sameness in the value of family. I treasure the work of many of the photographers within its pages: W. Eugene Smith, Dorothea Lange, Margaret Bourke-White, Henri Cartier-Bresson, Robert Frank, Elliott Erwitt, Gary Winogrand and so many others. I was drawn to the way they said so much within a simple photographed moment. A boy screaming his support of his little league team, an American-Japanese woman at a U.S. prison fence, a man throwing his girlfriend playfully into a Coney Island wave, a German boy headed to school amid the war ruins, a scientist holding the hope of a solution in a glowing test tube.

Did these photographers stop to ask permission? Not all tell. There has been a lot of controversy about the Robert Capa’s Spanish Civil War photograph of a loyalist soldier collapsing to his death after having been freshly shot. Capa, who said, “if your photos aren’t good enough, you’re not close enough,” claimed he was in the right place at the right time. Many, however, feel that the chances of him being that close and ready with his camera at exactly that moment, are slim. If he did stage it, does it make the photo less powerful?


What are the ethics involved with photographing people? Should you ask first? Is it invading someone’s privacy to photograph them without their knowledge? Does it make a difference if you shoot for art or if you’re a reporter? Were some of the famous spur-of-the-moment photos really staged, and not spontaneous?





My own feelings and actions have changed over the years. As a younger, less confident person, I pretended to be with the press. People love to have their picture in the paper. Plus, I have always found that if you have a big camera and a little guts, people will let you shoot wherever you want. During the 1991 Desert Storm parade through lower Manhattan, I went wherever I wanted, with the blessing of the cops. I shot inside the ring for many a rodeo, diving for the fence when a bull got too close. I never asked anyone if I could take their picture, fearing they’d say no. But, they always knew I was photographing them.

I still don’t usually ask permission first, but for different reasons. My feeling is that you’ve lost the moment if you stop to ask. Somehow asking permission implies a complicity between you and them that prevents genuineness. Better to shoot first, ask later. Now that I’ve developed a body of work that I’m proud of and feel represents me, I tell people the truth, that I don’t work for the press, but for myself. Sometimes they don’t want anything to do with me, but most of the time, people support me and agree to let me show their image. I confess it still makes my stomach flip a little when I ask someone to sign a release. It’s so important to me, and they have the power to build me up or tear me down.

I do feel, however, that you have to be careful not to compromise a fellow human being’s dignity. I don’t think photographers should exploit their subjects. To me, there’s a big difference between a ‘stolen’ shot of a homeless person asleep on a stoop vs. a portrait of a person down on their luck that conveys a sense of compassion. That would be one instance where I’d ask first.

What do you think?