Like A Fine Wine, Street Photography Needs Time

It’s silly to think that all products have the potential to get better or gain value as time passes. In fact, it’s quite often the other way around, as with anything that depreciates–be it your car that loses nearly half its value the moment you drive it off the lot or your iPhone that’s digitally “outdated” just three years after it’s been released.

Even with artwork, simply adding time doesn’t necessarily result in a more profound or meaningful piece–believe me, my childhood paintings are an embarrassingly real testament to that.

I kid you not, there is one painting that, to this day, still hangs in my childhood bedroom, and on said painting, inscribed in 2009-era acrylic oil paint are the lyrics of “If Everyone Cared”, a Nickelback song set against what one might surmise is a very poor attempt at a depiction of an otherworldly sunset. I’m still not sure whether to thank my mom for supporting my nascent artwork or for perpetuating the most embarrassing creative time in my life.

But enough about my Nickelback days, let’s get to the good stuff: fine wine and great street photography. What can the first teach us about creating the second?

If you don’t read past this part: the answer is an acceptance and appreciation of delayed gratification.

A selection of my recent street photographs (Jack Cohen, 2017 & 2018)

Still here? Great, let me explain what I mean.

When a wine is first bottled, it often doesn’t deserve to see the light of day, or rather the inside of your glass, for many years to come. The winemaker makes an educated assumption that the bottle’s accumulated value, both from a financial perspective and a general taste perspective, will only improve over time. Making great street photographs is not unlike making great wine and here’s why.

Your average city street scene is often comprised of various visuals including people, businesses, structures, waste, and much more. A present day photograph of this scene has very little artistic impact or historical value at that point in time.

But, just as a wine comes into its own over time, so too does a single street photograph.

With time…

…what was once an unassuming storefront sign, becomes a lesson in historic small business design trends.

…what was once the daily routine of a humble shoeshiner in Central Park becomes a window into the how city folk interacted with their local parks and vendors back then.

…what was once a modest car bumper or tail light becomes an representation of the era’s automotive vogue.

All of this is to say is that both great wine and great street photography are created by someone who can accept and appreciate delayed gratification.

When I used to roam the streets of Manhattan with my camera (DSLR or phone), I would always look for miraculous moments. The one in a million shot, some unusual scene, etc. And if I didn’t find any, which was often the case, I’d go home, empty-handed.

What I recently realized is that the most rewarding part of the street photograph creation is not in the immediate scene that you capture and can instantly review, but rather in what that photo can and will become and represent years from now.

Vivian Maier (1926–2009), one of my favorite photographers, exemplified this perfectly. Nowadays, she is one of the most celebrated street photographers of her time, but during her lifetime she was completely unknown, except as a humble nanny in Chicago. Unbeknownst to most, she had deep passion for capturing the streets around her through photography. She snapped *hundreds of thousands* of shots of average, daily life. The crazy part? She never developed a single photo while she was alive.

How’s that for delayed gratification?

Credit: Vivian Maier

As a brief aside, the story behind her and how her work was discovered and ultimately shared with the world is not without it’s controversies, but if you’re interested, I highly recommend watching Finding Vivian Maier on Netflix.

I mention Maier because her work has not only inspired me to get back out on the streets, but also to really appreciate that the gratification I’ll derive from my work will not come anytime soon. And I’m ok with that.

It’s a life lesson that can be extrapolated to areas outside of fine wine and street photography, especially in an era obsessed with instant gratification.

If you can become comfortable with this delay, you’ll free yourself up to do work, create art, and build things that you never would’ve considered.

See you tomorrow.