Country for Old Men

September 20, 2010

A few months back, Dan G. introduced me to a necessary art: not caring when taking someone’s photograph.  In our family it’s understood that if he feels like snapping your picture, your objections are irrelevant.  His longtime girlfriend Soph bears most of this burden.  He just kind of walks up to you and starts at it: click, click, click.

And it’s not just family: strangers receive less mercy.  He injects himself into situations as they’re unfolding.  He pretends that what he’s doing is perfectly natural.  Once it was a family trying to enjoy a ride at Navy Pier in Chicago.  Dan loved how absurdly unhappy they looked on the (admittedly awful) ride.  Adding to their gloom was the tall, skinny photographer stoically capturing it.

He’s a punk but you need to respect that.

He also plays aggressive full court man-to-man defense.  Great ball pressure.

Respect.

I’ve seen some subjects react in unflattering ways.  I think one dude threatened to jack his camera.  Another cursed him out.  Danny boy just walks along, neither confirming nor denying he’s doing anything wrong.

Madrid would be a perfect city for him.  There are always scores of people out, many of them older.  Couples in their seventies having a little stroll in Sol, hand in hand.  Geriatric girlfriends shopping in a chic clothing store.  Groups of them out for a drink at 2 in the morning, dressed with style and verve.

But, alas, older Madrilenos do not exactly love being photographed, either.

Some of these guys look angry.

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