Permission to miss the great photograph

I´ve been taking plenty of pictures of our adventures and life in Guatemala, driven by the desire to capture the memories, the essence of the place... perhaps to prove to my incredulous kids someday that their parents used to be cool. Especially when traveling, I tend to get hung-up in the pursuit of the great photo, the one that is artistic, that tells a story. The one that could easily be featured in, say, National Geographic, if I only cared to submit it.

As I lamented to my friend Shannon, (who is a real photographer), what I most want to photograph here are the people: the women in colorful, mismatched woven huipiles (blouses) and cortes (skirts), their waists cinched tight with a hand-woven belt, elegantly balancing goods on their heads; the impossible loads of firewood strapped to the backs of old men, pulled with a strap around the forehead; the exquisite babies with big brown eyes staring out; the nonchalant men with machetes; the bored shop keepers snoozing in their stalls; the gold-studded grins of people with hearts and stars drilled into their front teeth for decoration; pretty much anything happening on a chicken bus ride.

The problem is that I feel disrespectful taking pictures of people as they go about their daily lives. I think to myself, how would I feel if everyday on my lunch break in downtown Denver, there were tourists sneaking photos of me going about my business? (Maybe pleased with my outfits at first, but probably annoyed shortly thereafter).

Given Guatemala´s relatively recent political history, with its persecution and disappearances, I wonder if there aren´t those who are genuinely suspicious, uncomfortable or afraid having their likeness captured by a stranger. Even in group meetings for my volunteer work, after everyone has signed a photo release and understands why I am taking a photo, I often find that their smiling, happy faces quickly turn grim when the camera is pointed at them.

Though I feel frustrated by my lack of portraits, I am letting go of this desire to capture everything. I had to sit myself down and decide that being respectful of privacy and culturally sensitive is a greater priority than my future coffee table book. I´ve given myself permission to miss the great photograph. 

 This is also a moment to reflect upon my own behavior, my near-addiction to "media" and the extremely camera-happy culture in which I live at home.There´s a pervasive habit of documenting our existence down to the minute, and a constant urge to take pictures of everything. I love looking through old photos, and sometimes snapping that picture of a delightful lunch or a simple moment with friends is a way to appreciate it, show gratitude. Other times, the camera-slinging gets in the way of being present.

I´m still sneaking in some people-pictures here and there, so please forgive my hastily framed, slightly blurry photos of people´s backs... that´s the best I can do for a compromise.If they aren´t perfect, or if I don´t get them at all, I´m finally ok with it.