As a travel photographer / writer, you come into contact with a lot of people. Making connections is obviously important for you... how do you get underneath someone's skin to understand what's under their veneer, in a short amount of time?
When I’m on the road it’s not always easy making a deep connection, especially in a fleeting moment. I often feel uncomfortable ‘grabbing’ the shot, but the reactive photographer in me struggles with not recording a slice that resonates. Essentially we are all the same, regardless of culture, skin colour and conditioning: our basic human instinct to be accepted and to accept the World around us is paramount to our survival.
So, how do I get beneath someone’s veneer in a short amount of time? I try to be open and honest and connect to their existence through my own existence, some people you can do this with instantly, and others take a little more time to build trust with. I want to learn about people’s rhythms, their daily routines and their belief systems. Understanding others helps us to understand ourselves and where we fit in. These chance or planned meetings, however brief help to shape the road ahead and make it a tiny bit straighter and sharper.
An occasion that put my life in perspective occurred in Cambodia. We had a driver for two weeks who took us off the tourist trail (the best place to be). We drove through an area called Battambang and stopped at a local village to stretch our legs. I always explore unplanned stops, so I walked into a brick-making factory where I met two young boys. One was 12, the other 15, around the same age as my youngest son, both were skinny and wearing tatty shorts, pushing a heavy load of newly made bricks up a steep incline into the factory. I found out that they worked every day with rare days off, and the money they earned went directly to their families, whom they saw once a month.
These hardship stories of children working to support their families are common, but what struck me was: grim their as situation would seem to many Western children who live far more comfortable lives, they found reasons to smile.
Also, there’s always laughter on the road.
“You want sex?” The dark haired man asked, sitting in his white panel-van at Phmon Phen’s airport in Cambodia when I handed over a wad of US dollars.
“For driving”, I said, as confused as he was. “You’re Sarat?”
At this point, I turned, and noticed the real Sarat sitting in an identical white van whilst my two companions were on their knees, doubled-over with laughter. I snatched the wad of cash back from the poor confused man, mumbled an apology and quickly walked away, head hung low. I’ve never quite lived that one down!
