Showing Up
I was standing on Tower bridge. It was getting late. I rode one way on the Tube knowing the return would be a long night hike along the Thames, across Westminster Bridge, along St. James Park, ‘round Buckingham Palace, past the Wellington Monument, and up Grosvenor Road to my layover hotel at Marble Arch. That part was later. Right now it was work time, while I had acceptable conditions.
On the bridge I focused on getting the tilt/shift mechanics and HDR stops right. I’d flown as a co-pilot crew member on a day crossing of the Atlantic aboard a 767. At 9PM we landed at Heathrow. Now on Tower Bridge, it was—fortunately—cool, not cold. I was unsure what to expect. On a December night when the wind blows down the Thames, staying outside can become a survival outing.
Shortly a trio of young Japanese men happened by. The tallest one spoke English well. He asked me if I was a professional photographer. I mean, who else would be out here at this time of day? I put my face back toward the camera and into the viewfinder. Across the ocean was a long way to come and get the exposure mechanics wrong. He watched as I dialed in the bulb duration on my iPhone app, swung the camera to the right to begin my shot series, and started my baseline exposure pano series. He wanted to see an image on the back of my Canon EOS-1DX. He frowned. “I don’t understand. It looks dark.” “Well,” I said, “It’s a computer that looks through glass. What’s important is to ensure that the scene—data, is recorded by the camera. And, the light you see easily with your eyes mustn’t become over-exposed light within the camera.” “Oh. That makes sense,” he replied. “Well, it’s a lesson we have to learn to get our night photography right.” He nodded; ever polite as Japanese always are wherever they are. They bowed slightly and moved on.
In camera I inventoried my shots. I glanced at my watch. It was half past midnight. Flying a jet across an ocean takes it out of you. The time didn't really matter. When you’re getting the shots and it’s what you lilke—night photography, the time or even the temperature become distractions. I looked around, like you do at night to check your surroundings. I was the only human on foot on Tower Bridge. It was safe, but my concern went elsewhere. I re-checked the London weather app on my phone. The massive dark green blob continued its steady eastward advance. Judging by its speed, I estimated 90 minutes before it was overhead. As the 5-hour Energy caffeine began to wear off, I judged the circumstances, my take of exposures, and decided to press to a nearby shot site.
Can I make it back to the hotel before the rain arrives? I ported the tripod over a shoulder and hand-carried my camera with timer and lens attached. I don’t usually do this. My gear attracts felonious eyes. At the second shot site, the light got complicated. The shot wasn’t there. Don’t force it. I found a nearby sheltered spot. I broke down my kit and carefully re-packed. I pulled out my rain coat and pulled my cap down. The wind was rising. The smell of rain was on the breeze. No need to look at my iPhone weather app. What’s to know? Getting wet was in the offing.
I set out through Southwark paralleling the Thames, in and out of narrow, dark alleys then emerging out on the broad riverwalk. An occupational hazard of this gig is the solitude. Looking ahead—and occasionally behind, I saw no one except other solo walkers far ahead. Everyone seemed to be moving with a purpose. Black Friar’s came into view, a reminder that I was nearing the halfway point of my trek along the river. I was tired but had too far to go to concern myself with fatigue. Keep moving…
Ahead, Big Ben and the Elizabeth Tower came into view. It was approaching 2AM when I climbed the steps from the riverwalk onto Westminster Bridge. My walk slowed as I met a few more people and paused to take in the river scene. As a photographer you can choose to be all business, but if you do you miss much. Really, as photographers this is how our eyes are the same yet our sight is different. Just then, the bells of Big Ben rang. I savored the moment. My flying job takes me to foreign cities but my art makes those visits worthwhile. Big Ben’s peel concluded and the city went to bed.
I looked ahead down the long vacant street which paralleled St. James Park; an occasional cyclist or black London cab. The solitude of it set me to thinking, as solitude does. An occasional rain drop fell. The rain is holding off. For how long? I walked on. When walking alone at night I don’t walk with my earbuds in. I need awareness of things and people approaching from behind, a natural blind spot. When tired and alone, thinking becomes self-coaching which becomes a mental conversation. “Dude, why are you here? More walking…more reflecting. In this conversation a bottomline emerged: I choose to be here. Photography is not something you can do from behind a gaming console in your living room. You’ve got to will yourself to do it. After years, it is what I am. I arrive in a city, scout the streets and sights, search out the photographic opportunities, and get to work in my other job.
I am now alongside Buckingham Palace. The Wellington Monument is ahead, and for the first time this night I notice the pack is gradually getting heavy. At this hour of the day matters dissolve into their essence. Light management? F-stop settings? You can’t take good photos without those things. But tonight’s insight is when you’re tired, when it’s cold; especially when you know you will inevitably get cold and stay cold is when you must resolve to show up.
My hotel appears ahead as I push past the exotic car showrooms on Grosvenor. The rain is beginning. As I reach the hotel front door the rain begins loudly behind me. I enter the overlit lobby. After a frustrating search of my pockets, I locate my room key. The elevator is almost too complicated to operate. I emerge on the 7th floor and turn in the wrong direction. I correct my error and find my room. I am spent. The room door closes behind me. The pack comes off. I doff my rain coat and cap. I shed my shoes. Sleep. Showing up
