I’ve written a few posts discussing the concept of the photographer as crocodile, even since I realized that Henri Cartier-Bresson liked this technique. When I found myself waiting for the 22-Fillmore bus on Saturday afternoon (and waiting, and waiting…), I spotted the opportunity to practice/indulge my crocodilian practices/indulgences. First, one needs a good picture frame for your photos.
Well, that will have to do.
Then you wait. And wait. And wait. Crocodiles are patient critters.
And then you have a fleeting second or two to catch the shot. You have plenty of time to take a bad picture, but almost no time to take a good one. I mistimed almost all of my shots, and of the 20 or 30 I took, most virtually demanded deletion, and of the few that remained, only these three seem kind of sort of maybe adequate.
I feel like the fisherman who complains about the fish that got away. Or perhaps I should write, I feel like the crocodile who complains about the wildebeest that got away.
Vonn Scott Bair