Man in the rain
Wet and thirsty
Remember when I said this would be a weekly newsletter of my photos and writing?
Well so far it’s been more like a bi-annual newsletter of my guilt about not sending the newsletter enough.
But this time I really am going to do it. I swear. Cross my heart.
As always, this week’s photo is available as a limited edition print (in this case very limited, as most of them have already been snapped up).
This picture has been strangely popular with many of my straight female friends, many of whom showed little previous interest in black and white street photography.
I’m kidding (sort of). This is the best-selling print I’ve made to date, and perhaps the subject’s glistening arms have something to do with that.
I snapped him outside the Shakespeare Hotel in Surry Hills. I was drinking there with Hannah, my girlfriend (though I was pretending she wasn’t my girlfriend at the time, just someone who I hung out with every day). She was going to Guns and Roses. I can’t remember what my plans were.
It had been a glorious November day until the predictable southerly blew in, catching everyone predictably by surprise. The rain lashed the tin awning even as the sun shone at the end of the street, and everyone felt the electrifying sensation of being trapped in the pub.
I stepped outside, probably to vape, and saw this guy barreling down Devonshire Street on his bicycle. He skidded to a halt, relieved to have found shelter, and whipped out his phone to tell someone he’d be late.
Luckily I had my camera in hand - I could tell straight away it was going to be a good shot, with light reflecting everywhere off the wet pavement and the woman huddling with a shopping cart down the road.
But it’s not the composition that makes it work - I find it mildly annoying that I put him so close to the left border of the frame, with his eyeline going out. It’s the moment. His expression of childlike surprise at being caught in the storm.
Maybe there’s also a timeless quality to it, which black and white enhances. He’s dressed like a young Marlon Brando and the blown-out background gives very few clues as to the setting. The only hint of modernity, aside from phone, is the VIP Lounge. I don’t think they had those in the fifties.
PS: If you know who the man in the rain is, can you introduce us? I’d like to send him a print and tell him how much thirst he’s inspired.