Riding through the agricultural valleys east of State College, Pennsylvania, Penns Valley and Sugar Valley to be precise, places you squarely amidst thriving Amish communities. On Sunday mornings evidence of their horse drawn buggies are everywhere.
As I rode along some quiet roads I thought about the times people having asked me why I’m not photographing the Amish.
There’s certainly an abundance of landscapes to help paint a romanticized portrait of the Amish. There are a handful of local photographers who have built careers out of such work. A few have befriended a number of Amish families to gain unfettered access to homes and people to produce some magical images of an idealized rural life. Bill Coleman is a notable example of a photographer who spent his life with the Amish.
Others are like predators, skulking along roads awaiting their prey with telephoto lenses, stealing pictures and souls from people who likely just want to be left alone. I’ve often wondered how we English would feel if we were being photographed in the same way as we picnic at a park or our kids play along a creek.
I don’t photograph the Amish — much.
On Sunday morning I was stopped along a road near Smulton, Pennsylvania to make a portrait of a lovely Verbascum plant. As I finished and turned to walk back to the Vespa I saw two Amish couples and their children, all dressed in their Sunday clothes, walking on the road toward me as they heading for meeting. All eyes were on me as I walked toward them with my camera in hand. I’m sure I was not the first Englishman they’ve encountered with a camera.
I raised the seat on the scooter, placed the camera away, and started the scooter. As I rode past they all smiled and waved as I said, “Beautiful day.”
While I know I have the right to photograph these strangers on a public road, I’ve never felt comfortable photographing the Amish, or anyone for that matter that doesn’t give their permission. At least not in a setting like this. I have photographed the Amish — for assignments at work where they were a part of a story and agreed to be photographed, or the occasional buggy passing by my Vespa.
Some miles down the road I could tell from the number of buggies and people walking along the road that a meeting place was near. A small group of children walked along, barefoot, on the edge of the road and I couldn’t help but think how simple yet difficult their lives must be. Having to deal with me and a camera just doesn’t seem fair somehow.
For me, the Amish are best left as images in my mind. So you’ll probably not see many pictures of them unless someone takes the Vespa for a spin.
I find your sensitivity to these folks to be a very rare thing nowadays. When I am out and about snapping pics I try to be sensitive to those around me. Also when teaching i ask permission first. You are a true gentleman.
I don’t know about being a gentleman but I can say I learned a long time ago that photography can be an aggressive act. I just try and keep that in mind and treat people as I would like them to treat me.
The only thing that sort of messes that thinking up is I love having my picture taken. I think it’s pretty cool to see how I’ve changed — getting older and such.
No one ever takes it though…
I run quite a few events where people are at tables (board games, card games, etc), and as part of running them, I have found that asking to take a photo was disruptive and considered strange. On the other hand, I did not want to take photos without getting permission.
I now walk up with the camera, hold it near my chest, lens down, and ask everybody to wave, watching carefully. If I see all smiles and hands waving, I take a moment to photograph the group, the board, and then a photo of the game being played. If anybody has anything other than a smile and a hand up waving, I ask.
I don’t know what kind of other events this little trick would work for, but it’s handy. All the regulars have heard me say out loud that it’s a test to see if everybody is okay with photos, and they usually explain to newcomers after I walk away. As they see me doing to each table as I go around, they usually realize it’s a polite and happy ritual, and it adds to the event rather than distracting.
But the *key* thing is what Steve said, “I’ve often wondered how we English would feel if we were being photographed in the same way.” In my case, I simply found that even the act of asking was too much of a disruption (for some reason, the act of asking seemed to imply that I was looking to make money off the photos or use them for some nefarious purpose). If I’m playing a game and having a light conversion, I wouldn’t want to be disrupted like that, and although I don’t have a problem with photos, if I did, I’d want to be asked. But a brief, “Everybody wave!” is a non-disruptive check.
(The one regular who *does* have an issue with photos is always directly under me, or to the left or right of frame, and she smiles happily as I crop her out, knowing I’m considering her wishes.)
Sounds like you’ve found a way to not intrude, assess willingness, and take into account anyone’s concerns. While that approach may mean you’ll miss certain opportunities you’ll have others. I’m not photographic purest so I can make all sorts of accommodations but I know some photographers who absolutely don’t care what the subject wants or thinks. It leads to some unusual images to look at but at the expense of someone’s feelings or desires. In public, as far as photography goes, it’s a free country. To each their own…
When we take our son to School at Keuka College we see the Amish transplants to Penn Yan on Keuka Lake. Many are in carriages but some are on Mountain and Commuter bikes. All are wearing traditional clothes and hats. No Lycra on their backs.
We see a lot of the Mennonite families on bicycles and push scooters. And of course there are black bumper Amish in the south eastern part of the state who drive cars, just no chrome. All depends on what their bishops allow. I guess there is a lot of variation from community to community.
I agree your sentiments on this Steve, you did a nice job articulating it. I had a similar feeling riding through an area where a tornado had torn through the night before. I could not stop and take my camera out, I felt like an intruder, Skulking is a good word you chose. I didn’t want to be an outsider skulking about. I don’t know how reporters do it.
While I may have photographed a tornado landscape or building damage I certainly wouldn’t want to photograph people’s pain. Having worked as a photographer a long time I know in the news business you’d better be thick skinned. If you ever have a chance to view the documentary “War Photographer” about James Nachtwey, it’s unsettling how he sticks his camera right in the face of people who just had their children or spouse killed. He explains why he does it and his sort of zen approach in the process but still, it seems wrong to me.
But as consumers of news, we all want to see the car wreck…
I get same questions a lot in Lancaster County. It’s even more of an issue here with the massive tourist industry, which is both a benefit and a challenge for Amish families. The local production the community banded together to help run Amish mafia out of town by refusing to work for them, but at least three other shows have popped up. I’ve done quite a bit of work with Amish and old order Mennonite families, but the pictures are always with permission and never sold beyond the agreed purpose.
I think you’ve hit on the key aspect of a photo project — collaboration and permission. It applies to any project and not just the Amish. The kind of candid, street photography that came from Europe and into America in the late 50s and 60s is interesting to look at, has been romanticized, but can have a pretty aggressive streak to it. I do find interesting ideas in those photos but the production of them doesn’t fit my temperament…
Old order Aimish, Mennonite and similar religions (Quakers come to mind as well)
all have their own existence. We have similar near Elmira, St. Jacobs and similar areas in Waterloo county including near Kitchener-Waterloo and p into the lush fertile fields of Grey County.
Theere are various offshoots, reformed who drive black automobiles with all the chrome painted black and who also tend to engage in what might be called o utside activities.
The horse-drawn buggies and wagons are required to have a triangular reflector on the rear and red retroreflective markers as well. Coming up on a buggy on a country road that is posted telling people there are buggies there is still a bit of a shock. They keep to one side knowing even a minor encounter with a motor vehicle could result in a horse having to be put down, a major loss.
And yes a camera is an intrusion, not just for the religion but in some places not having to do with religion as well. Some industrial areas for example, laboratories, locations on the university grounds. A camera is a very real intrusion.
As to your comment about photographs of you, in particular. Steve, we the photographer are often not seen in the photograph. Not these stupid selfies that seem to be the rage rather photos of you driving along or with friends. This may seem odd given your recent escape from death. Each and every time you ride, or are out, take a photo of the opposite party, or have them take a photo of you. If you had expired in the hospital, what image would Kim have of you, now?
In the images of you, head buried in a motorcycle helmet that’s not how I perceive you.
Some may think a grizzled old man, with wisps of unkempt hair flying about.
How do people in your area of expertise and employment see you?
When those disposable cameras with a loaded included roll of print film first appeared I asked my staff one bright sunny Tuesday morning to each take a camera and photograph the happenings of their work day and the people they worked with; at the time I had a staff of about eight all involveed in media in a medium sized school board. Some photos were of the staff they worked with, some of others on assignment and still others of other things such as coffee at lunch. My point is your grand-daughter and too your daughter will want printed memories of her grandfather in the years ahead, when you are six feet under.
Think about it!
We had a terrible accident a few weeks ago here where a UPS truck hit a buggy — killed a mother and her child and critically injured the father and the other kids. Every few years it seems to happen. Those buggies end up on some of the larger roads where the traffic is fast and aggressive. It would scare the heck out of me to be driving a buggy.
I’ve been in a number of enterprises where a group of people were asked to make photos of their “life” for a fixed period of time. It’s kind of amazing how differently people see that.
As far as how people see me…. depends on the person I guess. For years I had long hair. Then switched to the buzz cut and now I am somewhere in between but the buzz cut is not far off. Jeans and a t shirt with a sport coat is the usual work appearance. I have few requirements of my workplace but I’ve sort of lived by the “no dress code, no regular hours” theme. I know when I new to wear a suit and tie and I know when I need to be somewhere. But I decided decades ago that I didn’t want to be a slave to clothes or clock. That required some careful choices about employment. Could have made more money had I taken a different road but it would have meant submitting to clothes and clock.
I’ve always felt Scooter in the Sticks would provide some memories of what I’ve done and thought about. I wish my parents had kept a blog…
Growing up around the Amish, and not being one of the local buttheads who like to rag on the Amish and be generally nasty – some of these yahoos call them name like Pilgrimites to their faces, and like to rev their pickup truck engine to startle the horses – I have always never taken a photo that includes an Amish subject, or even a Mennonite who may not have the objection to photos. Just isn’t neighborly.
Although we have some cherished Bill Coleman photos, he befriended some of the Big Valley communities of Amish in Mifflin County’s Kishacoquillas Valley, and he had their permission. Some of the images are sublime, affectionate, and respectful, capturing a very special place and unique landscape very different from the Lancaster or Ohio Amish norm most people associate with the sects. It’s a special place, and Bill was able to capture that without projecting his images into a larger commentary on Amish societies. It was just that area and his friends there, and he photographed it with real feeling and respect.
Coleman was a unique photographer. While he and I didn’t talk often, we did have a few memorable conversations. When I first came to town he still had a portrait studio and hadn’t started photographing the Amish yet. Once he did it seemed like he found a new path in life. He and Dick Brown from the Centre Daily Times seemed to be the Amish photographers of record in this region with both having befriended Amish families.
It’s too bad how some people torment the Amish. I’ve spoken to a couple people who have active hostility toward them for reasons they can’t explain. Makes me think of graduate school and discussions of “the other”….
An Amish fellow on a Vespa….that’d be something to capture….
It is, quite appropriate, your reticence in photographing the Amish or for that matter anyone who doesn’t wish their photo taken.
Jack Riepe, were he living here, would get that picture of an Amish fellow on a Vespa! I don’t have Riepe’s drive though…
A long lens might have solved the issue but then it wouldn’t go well in the hold of the little Wasp. The Amish would make fantastic subjects.
In Australia too people are becoming wary of the lens, pity because humanity, especially the extremes of age and differing cultures, are such wonderful subjects. A recent trip to New Guinea disclosed no such inhibitions and the people were such a delight to capture.
See: https://www.flickr.com/photos/photobom/sets/72157649765299173
I can haul a DSLR and 300mm lens in the topcase of the Vespa! I agree, the Amish are great subjects. But they don’t want their pictures taken by strangers. Certainly not without permission.
I suppose I’m not really that interested in photographing them. Or most people for that matter. In graduate school I did a project focusing on my wife and I made thousands of negatives. But aside from her my photography of people outside my commercial work was infrequent. My eye wandered elsewhere…
I must admit that I’m reluctant to take photos of others without specific permission. And I’m not really a fan of street photography even with a long lens in spite of the fact that they are on a public street. I think that most people, irrespective of religion or culture, would object to someone else “owning” an image of them. Asking folks to sign a release before taking a photo probably ruins the moment.
Photo releases are a pain. That negotiation is a real mood killer but sometimes a photographer has to do it if they want to make a dollar.
If you want to see real active resistance to photography, try photographing kids. People are irrationally wary and believe a lot of strange things about rules applying to photographing kids in public. I never point my camera at a kid anymore unless I either know them, they’re my kids, or their family has given permission as part of an assignment I might be doing.
I feel the same way, Steve. Ontario also has a share of these people.
I wonder how many other “groups” have to put up with unwanted photography on a regular basis. Celebrity people obviously. I was going to say politicians but they want their picture taken — often.
First, I have to say Steve, that first shot is one shitty picture, honestly. I never thought I’d ever get to say that of your photography.
Second, this post speaks volumes for your stellar character. In a world where anything goes, and usually does, without much comment, your restraint is absolutely rare, and extremely admirable.
As usual, I am humbled by your work. Even the shitty pictures.
Hah! Shitty picture — hadn’t thought of that. Would have been a better post title!
Don’t invest too much in my stellar character. Have have all the warts and failings of others. And I always wonder if my restraint is driven more my shyness and an aversion to conflict rather than any lofty philosophy. There’s certainly a part of me that fantasizes at times that I just do whatever I want.
Thanks for your kind words though. I appreciate them — warts and all.