With the partial solar eclipse only a couple of hours away, my friend Jaap and I cycled down to the Copernicus Science Centre on the Boulevard of the Wisła River. The idea, of course, was to make some photographs of Varsovians enjoying the once-in-a-generation celestial moment.

We arrived to find a queue to the rooftop snaking all the way along past the centre and down the road. The ol’ press card got us to the front, and as we waited, Jaap noticed something odd. There were more than a few Secret Service agents setting up security pat-down tables. Things just got interesting. Who’s coming along to this, then?

Through security, we discovered that the Prime Minister of the Republic of Poland, Donald Tusk, would be joining observers on the roof to enjoy the solar eclipse. An added bonus for our respective photo stories.

On the roof, the Science Centre had provided telescopes, filters, and everything folk might need to enjoy the solar eclipse.

Editing Music

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Having spent an adulthood of anti-zionism and pro-Palestinian advocacy, and a couple of years watching a genocide committed by the far-right settler-colonialist government of Israel, from the point of view of a smartphone screen, I am sick. I am exhausted. I am profoundly sad. And I am angry. I am rageful. The words, From the river to the sea pass through my mind every few minutes, it seems.

From the River To the Sea

As I sit here warm, comfortable, and safe at home in Warsaw, I can’t begin to imagine myself in the place of the civilians in Gaza who have suffered this disgusting collective punishment. This genocide has wiped out whole bloodlines. Israeli forces have forcibly displaced people. Infants shot in the head. I can, however, pay tribute to the Palestinian journalists and citizen journalists who have shown the world the truth of what has been happening in Gaza. Many of those have been killed; in fact, [when I originally wrote this], the CPJ has announced this to be the deadliest time for journalists in modern warfare.

Since the inevitable mowing of the lawn began in Gaza on October 7th and the brutal genocide that came after, I have been following the Polish-Palestinian protest movement. From marches to the Polish parliament, demonstrations outside the American and Israeli embassies, and student encampments, to the visit of anti-Zionist Jewish speaker and author Gabor Maté and cultural events such as Palestine Solidarity Days, I have spent time with fellow pro-Palestinian supporters and activists, documenting as I go.

Free Palestine!

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Early this year, when I decided I would spend the next few years participating in workshops, masterclasses, and mentorships, Leica’s Masterclass with Bruce Gilden in London was the first chosen, with Richard Kalvar‘s soon after. I felt that with Gilden’s reputation as a brutal, tough-but-fair critic it would be something of a baptism of fire after which, Kalvar would seem somewhat less daunting. This, however, was turned around when, due to illness, Gilden had to postpone from the scheduled February until mid-June.

A Whole Different Ball-Game

So it was with the warm, fuzzy illumination of the memories of Kalvar’s workshop (or maybe it was the post-covid glow) that I headed off to London mere hours after my first negative covid test for over a week. Talk about cutting it close.

Arriving at 8:45 in Mayfair from my Piccadilly bed I was met by Gilden himself, Charlie from Leica, and several of the participants, including Ennio, an acquaintance from Kalvar. When (almost) all had arrived, we introduced ourselves before decamping downstairs to begin the pre-class assignment reviews. As occasionally critical as Kalvar was, it was pretty clear this was going to be a whole different ball-game.

After an, at-times, eye-watering and frank review session – during which I felt that, comparatively, I got off quite lightly, Bruce Gilden gave us each an individual assignment. Post-covid, I could not imagine myself walking for hours on end each day (in actual fact it took weeks for the exhaustion to fade) so I decided to confront a particular creative block I’d recently been having: Asking for permission. As most readers will know, I’m much more comfortable in the Kalvarian, Cartier-Bressonian style of candidly hunting for the shot. I’m less comfortable approaching a stranger and asking if I can – for instance – take their portrait. So this became my assignment. Ask for permission and become more comfortable accepting rejection. To do this, I decided upon a portrait project and off I went.

Rejection Is Just Part Of The Job

The mornings passed with bracing review sessions, the afternoons with scorching sun and enthusiastic approaching of interesting passers-by. I surprised myself by finding the approach and the question to be quite easy, particularly after I had broken the seal. I found most rejection fairly comfortable and would often joke with the potential subject that they shouldn’t worry, and that rejection is just part of the job. On several occasions I would still find myself – minutes later – chatting away to someone who, while not wanting to be photographed, was quite happy to learn about what I was doing and why, and tell me a bit about themself.

The rejection that I had no time for whatsoever – and did peak my anger into the red – was of those who were either overtly rude in their response, or worse if they acted like I was simply not there whatsoever. I had to bite down my indignance a couple of times.

As the week ended, I had found I had become comfortable with asking, and with photographing these passers-by. At the beginning of the week, if someone agreed to be photographed, I would rush and take very little of their time. By the end of the week, I was calm, considered, and took more of the person’s time knowing they would tell me when my time was up.

A Humbling Experience

While I did take a few portraits I’m very happy with, if I’m being completely honest with myself, it is the beginning of a potential path rather than clear contents of a body of work. I do, however, feel I did enough to feel the less barbed edge of Gilden’s tongue, compared to some of my class-mates. On Wednesday I was questioning just how much work I would have to do to get to where I want to be. By Friday, I was laser-focused on getting to and through all that progress.

Bruce Gilden is a true believer and dedicated to the craft. To paraphrase something said during the week, he could live many lives and would be a photographer in every one. He is both funny and warm, but will be unerringly honest in his feedback which while occasionally difficult to hear, was nevertheless vital to understand. Gilden is a natural storyteller and the price of admission would be worth it for the stories alone, particularly as he is as honest in his criticism of other photographers as he is of his students. He is as dismissive of photographers he feels are hacks or those he feels lack talent as he is effusive in praise of those of whom he loves.

When I returned home, after describing my week, Marta perfectly summed it up as ‘a humbling experience’ and it was. It was also, I feel, an essential one. To learn at the proverbial feet of one of the masters of my craft and to take away so much was vital. I do, sincerely, hope I get the opportunity again.

Thank you to Bruce, Charlie, my fellow classmates, and to the passers-by in London who gave me their time.

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It was with some excitement then that I spent an enjoyable long April weekend in the city with the aforementioned Richard Kalvar on a Magnum Street Photography workshop a couple of weeks ago.

Street Photography with Richard Kalvar

As with all such events, there is the shy, trepidatious, initiation – the tentative sizing-up of your class-mates, and the cautious, and occasionally earnest, building of acquaintances and friendships. All the while doing all one can to not embarrass oneself by saying something so irrevocably daft. Though a few close calls, I may just have managed it without any major faux-pas. My fellow attendees spanned the spectrum from dedicated street photographers to those taking their first steps and was a pleasant, collegiate group that I hope, for the most part, stays in touch – but you know how these things are.

Each day was split into a morning review and an afternoon’s shooting out on the streets of Paris. Portfolios provided in the weeks before the workshop were reviewed by Richard Kalvar and the class on the first morning. It was fascinating to see what others chose as their best work, compared to the choices I myself had made. It was in parts entertaining and thought-provoking to hear Richard’s thoughts on the photographs and to see which he preferred and which he didn’t – some of which were certainly surprising. Afterwards, the Place de l’Opéra was used as a hub for an afternoon of photography and a meeting place should we want to discuss with Richard and our facilitators – Coline and Sofia. Days 2 and 3 followed a similar pattern though on the third and last day, we flipped the schedule shooting in the morning to allow for review in the afternoon.

“the devil peeking over my shoulder”

Though not a surprise, I loved the experience and I had an enjoyable, enlightening, and at moments, fruitful time. That unwelcome guest, the devil peeking over my shoulder, my impostor syndrome and its related anxieties paid me an inopportune visit on our second day, though, which didn’t help. My portfolio (the ‘Le Retour’ exhibition plus a few) had originally been very well received, however, on Sunday’s review of Saturday’s photos I focused too strongly, to the cost of all else, on an entirely fair moment of criticism on a naive technical decision made on one photo. It seems rather than hear the positive feedback given to several others, I found myself in a full-on spiral of self-doubt for the Sunday afternoon. The short time spent in Paris, and the pressure of the workshop format, igniting a small panic that the shots just weren’t coming.

An epiphany realised a touch too late, and in no small part as a result of the quiet encouragement from Magnum’s facilitator Coline, was that I shouldn’t push myself to deliver gold each day. It’s madness to think that is possible. Instead, of course, bringing photographs that Richard (or another ‘master’) can provide feedback and guidance on, is the real learning experience. If I could change anything from my overall delightful adventure of the weekend, it would be to have better understood this from the start.

Time Well Spent

Collected together though, my output, the advice and instruction, and finally the feedback from the class and from Richard, was all resoundingly positive and there really was no need for my anxiety-induced dip mid-way through. The third and final day was the one I enjoyed most. Not only did we spend time reviewing the group’s photos from the Sunday afternoon and Monday morning but also spent time discussing, chatting, and having lunch together. A particular highlight of Monday was taking a journey through Richard’s contact sheet to see the process of an initial idea taking root and developing until the final shot.

Leaving Magnum’s gallery and office for that final time, I looked back over my shoulder to the door hidden off the street and felt that, circumstances permitting, this would not be my last Magnum workshop in Paris. I walked away sad to be leaving, and determined to return. Thanks to Coline, Sofia, Richard, and my other classmates for making the weekend such an enjoyable and fruitful one.

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