I was a bit worn out from the night before when Conover sent me an email asking if I was going to go to the Magnum book signing in Chelsea.  I said “No, I can’t handle the city two nights in a row.”

‘Oh, come on!,” he replied. “What else do you have going on?”

Fair point.  After all, I was in New York and if you’re involved in photography, these are probably the type of events you don’t want to miss.  Plus, I’d at least had some conversations with Soth and David Alan Harvery, so it wouldn’t be completely strange to say hello.

I walked in a few minutes after the doors opened, and it was already rather crowded.  I spotted a few of the Magnum guys as I made my way to the beer.  As I sipped my Brooklyn, I spotted Conover waving at me.  He was talking with Andrew Hetherington, Martin Fuchs and another guy I didn’t recognize at first, who later turned out to be John Loomis.

We chatted about the usual things, social media, photographers, blogging, you know, the type of topics that usual bring out the sarcasm in photographers.  It was good to chat with John Loomis who I’ve followed for awhile now. Sharp guy who knows the game inside and out.

As I went up for my second beer, I noticed that Soth was near the beer table.  After I got my beer I pulled the move where you hang around the periphery of a conversation and wait for the moment when it ends.  I’m not the type of guy whose comfortable approaching famous, semi-famous, micro-famous, photo-famous or any sort famous people, so I normally need a really good reason. Soth was from Minnesota. Soth was the first photographer my good friend Heath exposed me to. His work was the first that really made me interested in photography.

Plus, we’d had a couple Twitter exchanges, so I was fairly confident he’d at least recognize my name or if not, LPV.

I introduced myself and went with my joke, “So, what’s my commission for selling all those Parke books in HCSP?”

We laughed. “I’ll buy you a beer,” he said, pointing to the bar. They were free.

We chatted a bit about Minnesota but I could tell he was weary about talking to people. I kind of suspected this from following his blog over the years. This isn’t the part of photography he enjoys the most, not by a long shot. Knowing this, I kept it brief and went back to where Conover was holding court.

Trent Parke

In HCSP Trent Parke is a legend. Hell, he’s a legend everywhere. When I started shooting black and white, his work was on my mind frequently.  Once you’ve looked at it, it’s hard to forget.  There aren’t many photographers whose work sears into your mind and can be vividly recalled when you close your eyes.  His work is like that. There’s a certain magic to it that’s so quintessentially black and white.

He and Soth drifted close to us and again. I felt compelled to use my joke, but since Soth was there, I decided to change it up.

I tapped Parke on the shoulder and introduced myself, and mentioned the conversation I’d had with Soth.

“Yeah, you have a cult following on Flickr. There are people that try for months to mimic certain shots.”

We laughed, sipped the beers, and then Soth roamed away.

Like my conversation with Soth, I was expecting to keep it short with Parke. But then something happened.  We started shooting the shit about street photography, and then the philosophy of photography.

When you get into those good conversations where both people are engaged, you sort of lose track of time, and it becomes difficult to remember exact details.  We talked about his new book, and how he was mixing in writing for the first time.  He actually has three books in the works right now, one of his color work, this new black and white project, and a new version of his older BW street work.

He told me that he’s not the type of photographer to go out searching for new, exotic locations. He’s interested in working around Sydney and really getting to know one location.  I told him a bit about my Greenpoint project and how I thought it was important to walk the same beat because it forces you to look the same scenes over and over again, and try to figure out how to make a photograph out of them.

Something I said clicked with him. He talked about how he’d go back to the same locations over and over again until he got the shot.

“I hate to even mention it, but it’s kind of zen,” I reluctantly said because it’s never really appropriate to mention zen, but I guess it was the only way I was able to articulate myself.

He said enthusiastically,  ”Yes! It is like zen.”

He mentioned the Sydney light and told him about Los Angeles and how the light seduces you, and leads you around, which started him on all the reflected light he was seeing around New York and how crazy it must be to shoot here.

After awhile, I thought I should probably leave the guy alone, after all I’m sure there were other nerds with Flickr accounts and blogs that probably wanted to say hello, but then he mentioned something about street photography and I respond about some of the stuff going on around the web these days, and we ended up going down another path.

He said that when he first went out into the street 10 years ago, he really knew nothing about what was going, and then Matt Stuart from In-Public contacted him and found all these other people that were shooting and thinking the same way he was, and that’s how he was brought into the wider world of street photography.

We went up for a beer, and talked about his new BW book, and how it was based on a deeply personal event from his past, and was like a tree, with a main trunk and many branches spreading out all over the place.  Someone eventually tapped him on the shoulder and started talking to him.

“Sorry mate,” he said to me while the person started in.

That was sort of my sign that it was time to head back to where Conover was holding court.

“Parke’s a cool guy,” I said.  ”Very philosophical.”

A bit later I was able to tap him on the shoulder again to let him know I enjoyed chatting and that I’d get his email from someone in In-Public.  ”Yeah, yeah, you too mate,” he said as someone pulled him away.

The impression I got while we were conversing was that he feels extremely lucky to be where he’s at, and is probably one of those people that genuinely thinks, “What the hell am I doing in a room with all these people?”  It’s not that he’s not confident in his work.  There’s an intensity and passion within him that’s contagious.  He knows he’s doing what he’s suppose to be doing.  You can tell the creative flame burns deep inside him.

But what impressed me most is that he stood there and conversed with me, and was completely engaged.  It didn’t matter who I was.  He was interested in the ideas, and talking about photography.  It’s hard to fake humility, and from what I hear humility is built into the DNA of Australians.

The End of The Night

We mingled around the rest of the night and I had the opportunity to talk to Andrew Hetherington a bit about his website and publishing on the web. You can read my thoughts over at LPV. I also had a chance to chat with David Alan Harvey a bit and Burn regulars Panos Skoulidas and Chris Bickford, all great guys.

As Conover and I left and headed to a bar for a night cap, the conversation with Parke kept running through my head. I thought to myself, maybe some of the crazy shit I’m thinking isn’t that crazy, in fact, it might be the same crazy shit many photographers are thinking these days.  Hell, Trent Parke is thinking some of this crazy shit, and it seems to be working for him.

Photography is a tough game. It doesn’t matter who you are or how successful you are.  What I learned from my Magnum night is that there’s a unifying spirit and passion amongst certain photographers that transcends any petty disagreements about what’s good, or what’s bad, or who deserves this or that.

When you run into these type of photographers, you’ll know it because they can’t contain their passion.

Maybe Conover should drag me out of Greenpoint more often.