The two cities and the magic of three little words… “if you like”

Today (7/17) was a day of walking… and walking… and walking. I had to deal with a bit of a learning curve when adapting to layout of the city and finding everything. In the morning O and I met with Beata (the artist/teacher who runs the residency and the HMC) and she gave us the low-down on what to see and where to go.

Budapest is a city in two parts – the “Buda” side to the west, characterized by more residential areas and green rolling hillsides and the “Pest” side to the east, a bustling city center filled with historic buildings and commerce. The two sides of the city are separated by the Danube and then again re-connected by a series of bridges. Our residency is on the Pest side, very close to the city center. Our Hotel/Apartment is surrounded by internet cafés, supermarkets, shops, museums, and restaurants. Today, I crossed the divide between the two cities via the Erzsebet hid, a wide, white bridge that shook with the velocity of the crossing cars. Because acclimating after a long journey (see “31 hrs” rant) takes a bit of patience, I found myself standing on the Buda side not knowing what to take pictures of, yet wanting to take pictures of both the mundane and the sublime and everything in between.

I had wanted to work on a series of portraits with the Yashica, but wondered how I would bring myself to approach random strangers and ask “Could I take your picture?” (ok, I realize it is strange for me to make this “shy” comment, but refer back to the “31 hour “ entry and the part about not being acclimated) – so I just did it and asked someone “Could I take your picture?” and astonishingly, he said “if you like.” Thus began my amazement with the people and the place, with a simple phrase “if you like.” I spent the rest of the afternoon asking everyone who struck me in some way, either by making eye contact with me for just a bit too long, or someone who was totally unprepared in the midst of their labor so I could capture them without pretense.

To be allowed to take a portrait is altogether precious, there is a sense of vulnerability that is being offered to the camera, and to the photographer. To be allowed so willingly to take portraits of strangers on the streets where I am a stranger, both to the individual and to their country is even more special. For this I am very grateful for this day and the three magic words. The camera allowed me a dialogue into the culture and for a moment into the lives of people I would never ordinarily encounter. Some people inquired further asking where I was from and why I wanted to take their (them in particular) picture. One shopkeeper eating a peach offered me some fruit and a French tourist named Adrian asked if I could email him a copy of the photograph. For today at least, men were much easier to approach, especially men who were not used to being photographed; construction crews, security guards, people talking on their cell phones. The women were a bit more reserved (and perhaps self-aware), but again I found the women who were most a part of the city, rather than being “in” the city were more apt to acquiesce.