Expat Life

World Press Photo 14

World Press Photo 2014, Forum Maia (7)

I’ve written about World Press Photo before, blogging three years of exhibits at Brookfield Place in Toronto when I worked across the street at Royal Bank Plaza (200 Bay).

World Press Photo 2009
World Press Photo 2010
World Press Photo 2011

This annual photojournalism exhibit shows in 100 venues in 45 countries, but I was still surprised to find out (via search on the World Press Photo website) that here in Portugal there is no Porto venue, only Maia. Tomorrow is the final day of the exhibit, so I scurried over to Fórum da Maia to check out this year’s installment.

If you have never seen a World Press Photo exhibit, I would recommend not eating directly beforehand. Apart from technical skill, the photos in the exhibit are curated for emotional impact and if you are particularly sensitive, it could impact your ability to keep the latest meal down. The exhibit covers world events of which natural disasters and warfare are typically the most graphic, but I also find the man-made disasters make my stomach turn, too — in 2013 that would include the collapse of the Rana Plaza in Savar, Bangladesh, where the death toll reached 1,129.

But one of the first set of photos I viewed hit much closer to home for me: Typhoon Haiyan in the Philippines. The photo above by Philippe Lopez of France carries the following description:

18 November 2013
Tolosa, Leyte, Philippines

Survivors carry religious images, ten days after Typhoon Haiyan made landfall in the central Philippines. One of the strongest typhoons ever recorded, Haiyan raged through 47 provinces, causing immense destruction. Over a million houses were damaged, half of them totally destroyed, and more than 4 million people were displaced. Large areas were left without electricity or an adequate water supply for weeks, and the devastation of infrastructure made food distribution and medical services difficult. Many people made their way to less-affected areas, such as the capital Manila, and some cities reported a near doubling of their populations.

The exhibit covers more than headline news, however, there are human interest stories and portraiture (although to a lesser extent), the natural world and wildlife, too. No need to bring airline-grade sick bags to World Press Photo, it’s merely a very small caution about a certain section of pictures. The rest are more thought-provoking than nausea-provoking and definitely worth at least an hour of viewing time. But for heaven’s sake, save your appetite for later!

World Press Photo 2014, Forum Maia (5)

World Press Photo 2014, Forum Maia (6)

World Press Photo 2014, Forum Maia (4)

World Press Photo 2014, Forum Maia (3)

World Press Photo 2014, Forum Maia (2)

World Press Photo 2014, Forum Maia (1)

December 17, 2014
Album: Portugal [Autumn 2014]

Summer In Porto: Festas de Sant’ Ana e XIV Festarte

summer in Porto, Portugal

Filed under: “Only In Portugal”

Last night I had to top up my phone’s SIM card but had to go to a Multibanco (bank machine) to do it because I forgot my login code for online banking. And strangely, I also had a craving for a fartura, the Portuguese version of a doughnut.

Paulo was sceptical, since farturas are found at food trucks at festas (fairs), not from restaurants. We went to the beach looking for a food truck (none), then I spotted a light display in a roundabout that looked like one from a fair. The closest place was Leça da Palmeira, and there we found not only a farturas truck, but a Multibanco located conveniently across the street, and — what turned out to be the best part — ranchos (folk performers) on stage for Festas de Sant´Ana e XIV Festarte!

Success x3!

[video link]

Unfortunately I didn’t have my camera with me, because my phone’s videocam is very low on detail and you can’t see the outfits properly. But at least you can see some dancing! I uploaded the longest videoclip (4 mins) to YouTube (above), and the rest are shorter (1-2 mins) and uploaded to Flickr (below). In some of the videos you can see very young children dancing — a few boys between 2-4 and a girl of about 5 — and they were absolutely adorable.

But man, I don’t know how they can dance and wear all those clothes! The daytime temperatures have been over 30C and while recording these videos I was roasting just sitting on the sidelines with my beer in one hand and the phone in the other!


[video link]


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Portugal’s Caretos Tradition: Mischief and Mayhem Before Lent

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

I posted a few videoclips yesterday of the caretos, these loudly-dressed masked characters that run up and down the streets of Podence ‘terrorizing’ the townsfolk. This street entertainment is a tradition from Celtic days called Entrudo Chocalheiro (carnival rattling?) that takes place in the days before Lent — not to the scale of Rio de Janeiro’s Carnival atmosphere, but for a tiny village in the mountains of northeastern Portugal it’s a shake-up. The streets of Podence come alive with the sounds of cowbells and shrieking, drums and bagpipes. The population multiplies during this time, busloads of visitors arrive and the local fields are littered with vehicles, all to see the caretos in their devilish glory.

Official website for the Caretos de Podence (PT): http://caretosdepodence.no.sapo.pt/
Visit Portugal (EN): The Caretos of Podence
Azibo.org (EN): Caretos Tradition

High-quality video from the local TV station’s Facebook page (you can actually see us in the video at 0:50 and 1:49):

[video link]

This is definitely the most bizarre thing I’ve seen in Portugal yet. (Remember, it’s not São João for another few months, when Porto goes crazy.) If I hadn’t read up on Entrudo Chocalheiro the day before we left, I wouldn’t have had a clue what was going on. If you’re an uninitiated English speaker like me, I’ll direct you to Julie Dawn Fox’s website where she explains the events in greater detail.

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Basically, on the Sunday before Lent, these caretos unleash pranksterish behaviour on the public for about an hour. During this time a group of males of all ages — from little caretos-in-training (called Facanitos, or “little knives”) to veterans — wear what looks like a colourful head-to-toe fringed rug, some with long hats (all the better to clobber with), some with long sticks (all the better to poke with), and each with belts from which cowbells hang and make a racket when they walk and run. You would think the cowbells make it harder for them to sneak up on the unsuspecting, but caretos move pretty fast and I witnessed a lot of stealth attacks in the crowds.

Traditionally the targets of their attention are supposed to be young women (this is a tradition related to fertility, after all), but these days the caretos are easier on their victims and will chase after pretty much everyone who is looking the other way. They will grab you, rattle their hips against you, try and frighten with loud noises, knock their cowbells against you, that sort of thing. The idea is to keep on your toes and watch out for them, especially if you’re anywhere near the middle of the street. Unlike the Celtic days, however, the Portuguese witness this display with cameras and video recorders, and the caretos actually spend more time posing for pictures than practicing mischief.

For more pictures, check out the full-screen slideshow [Caretos de Pondence] (opens in new window).

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

Caretos of Podence, Portugal (Entrudo Chocalheiro)

March 2, 2014
Album: Carnaval 2014 Portugal
Full-screen slideshow: Carnaval 2014 Portugal (slideshow)

Wednesday Afternoon In Porto

Porto, Portugal

Last week I had arranged to meet a couchsurfer in Porto today for language exchange mixed in with some photowalking. The intention was to train my English ear for Portuguese with someone who isn’t family. Well, you know what they say about best-laid plans.

“Bring your camera,” I wrote in the email. I offered photography lessons/tips in exchange for his Portuguese to make it more of an exchange, since he already spoke English. It seemed imbalanced on my side, and when he said he wanted to learn more about how his SLR worked, I turned it into a photo-walking-talking excursion. This wasn’t a bad idea, but it led to very little Portuguese and a whole lot more English speaking from me to explain what the menus, dials, and buttons were on his camera. Which didn’t surprise Paulo one bit, when I told him later.

Porto, Portugal

Nevermind, I said. The Portuguese will come.

(This isn’t my first attempt at language exchange. A year ago, when my plans for moving to Portugal solidified, I found a Brazilian guy who offered to do a language exchange with me in Toronto. He’d just finished his graduate degree in Quebec City and wanted to improve his English and move to English-speaking Canada. Before he returned to Brazil we embarked on an exchange which was his Portuguese for business English and my reworking of his LinkedIn profile. We met at the Reference Library and he helped me find some European Portuguese language books/DVDs, which wasn’t easy! Portuguese language resources default to Brazilian Portuguese.)

Anyway, I didn’t take as many photos as I usually do since the purpose of the afternoon was talking versus shooting, but it was time well-spent in the photography department. Whether it’s through instruction or inspiration, I feel what you know should be shared with others.

Not to mention, you become more aware and on the lookout for unusual things, like this tree covered in crochet:

crochet tree in Gaia (Porto, Portugal)

crochet tree in Gaia (Porto, Portugal)

crochet tree in Gaia (Porto, Portugal)

crochet tree in Gaia (Porto, Portugal)

crochet tree in Gaia (Porto, Portugal)

And as you can see, Porto itself and the area surrounding the Douro River is very picturesque. It’s also very hilly, which means it has plenty of viewpoints and angles. And stairs! Great if you like the exercise. For the rest, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Porto, Portugal

Porto, Portugal

Porto, Portugal

Porto, Portugal

Porto, Portugal

Porto, Portugal

Porto, Portugal

Porto, Portugal

Porto, Portugal

Porto, Portugal

Porto, Portugal

Porto, Portugal

Porto, Portugal

Porto, Portugal

Porto, Portugal

A State of Managed Chaos

blustery in New York 2

blustery in New York blustery in New York 3

Taken yesterday in front of the 9/11 Memorial on Staten Island. My face is frozen solid here, as the winds are ABSOLUTELY GLACIAL.

Like my hair, things are a bit wild at the moment. Arrived back from New York near midnight, and have been running around today with phone in hand. In future, if anyone reading this needs advice on exporting a car from the United States and importing it into Canada, I would be glad to give you my two cents. I won’t bore the rest of you to tears with the (many) details, only to mention that I can’t register the car in Canada without a deregistration stamp from the American authorities on the back of the title, and there are all sorts of hoops to jump through before that can take place. It sounds like the two agencies work together, but I can tell you they do not!!

The New York trip was fun with a capital F, but now it’s back to the business at hand: moving. Anyone want to trade lives for a while?

Shooting At Your Own Risk in NYC

42nd Street subway entertainmentA cameraphone photo I took last Friday at the 42nd Street (Times Square) subway station.

A family of buskers, part of the MTA’s arts project Music Under New York.

I’ve been reading an interesting discussion in the New York Flickr group today about the harrassment photographers get while shooting around New York.

This shot is a threat to the security of the United States

It’s essentially about the security paranoia that the average (and above-average) photographer encounters around New York City. Although, I should add that many of the photogs who have participated in the discussion own conspicuous high-end equipment, not touristy point-and-clickers. It shouldn’t matter, but it seems to invite strong-arming by the Powers That Be, whether they’re security guards or transit police or regular NYPD. It’s getting to the point where you can’t take photos of anything without looking suspect. Somebody even mentioned that tripods require a permit in many places.

It’s been argued that New York City has every right to be paranoid. Others argue that this heavy-handed blanket of security that affects everyone has protected no-one and won’t deter terrorists from subversive activity. I tend to agree with both points, but the second point is actionable.

First of all, these longstanding structures like Grand Central Station and the Empire State Building have been around for DECADES. People have been taking photos of them and in them since they were built, and preventing people from doing so now isn’t going to protect them. The same goes for the New York metro — if a terrorist wanted photos of the underground, they wouldn’t even have to take photos, there are many thousands of these images already in existence. It’s probably not difficult to obtain blueprints, either.

I suppose it begs the other question — do New Yorkers feel safer if they see photographers get stopped from taking pictures?

Secondly, would terrorists be so bold as to carry around expensive camera equipment, set up tripods, and make themselves very visible and vulnerable to a search? It seems to me that ordinary tourists with ordinary digicams don’t attract as much attention, which has been to my advantage, but wouldn’t bode well for me if I started hauling around a DSLR with a giant lens. The past few trips to New York I’ve been shooting with the Asahi Pentax K-1000, which only made a curious older gentleman stop me for a chat on the street about how much he loved his old Asahi that he picked up in Japan in the 60s. I took shots at JFK Airport, in the subway, in museums, but didn’t encounter any nastiness. (One museum guard very politely prohibited me from taking photos of a certain exhibit, but that was for artist’s proprietary rights, not security.) Perhaps being female makes me appear less of a threat.

Maybe I don’t assert myself as much as the others in that discussion. When I see “No Photography”, I generally don’t try and take any photos, surreptitiously or otherwise. When I see police or security guards around, I don’t take out the camera. The last thing I want to do is ruin my day by arguing about my rights. If I want to take a picture badly, I make sure the ‘coast is clear’ first. If it’s not, I move on. Is that the wrong thing to do? Should I be more assertive and try and stop this erosion of civil liberties?

Part of me thinks it’s not worth it, to argue. It depends on the situation, but if I lived in New York and made it a regular practice to shoot such places, I would make more of an effort. After all, it’s my stomping ground, it’s in my best interests to exercise those rights because I’m going to keep running into these same security guards/persons of some authority, in all likelihood, again and again. But while my time in NYC is measured and precious, I’m not going to waste any of it waving a PDF of <a href=”http://www.krages.com/phoright.htm

“Photographer’s Rights” in the face of a confrontational guard when I could be taking photos somewhere else in peace.

[Related post: Apr.26.05 – Metro Photography Concerns]

Three Times Square

1:30am Saturday

I sent this pic from my cameraphone on the way home from New York. I tried to send it while walking down to the metro, but the photo hadn’t finished uploading when I lost the signal, which resulted in an aborted upload to Flickr… which might’ve answered my question whether Cingular sends the data in one packet or in parts (or is that at Flickr’s end? I’ve seen partial uploads/corrupted data before). I was wondering, since Cingular botched my cameraphone upload of Hugh’s pumpkin inspection last weekend, sending it SIX TIMES, three days later.

Speaking of baffling the consumer, I went to JP Morgan Chase (or is it Chase Manhattan?) to change my pound sterling to U.S. greenbacks this afternoon. It’s been sitting in my wallet for five weeks now because I can’t find a single outlet, bank or otherwise, that will convert foreign currency around here. You’d think I was trying to change Lebanese or Egyptian pounds instead of pound sterling, but the banking officer I spoke to said nobody deals with foreign currency at all in Scranton. Call me a cynic, but I’d probably get laughed out of the bank if I showed up with Canadian dollars or Mexican pesos — even though they’re from next door.

I was supposed to be in New York today, anyway, so I figured it was high time I got the GBP done and converted. I went to Chase because the last time I was in New York to pick up Lucy from JFK, she was able to change it there without too much trouble. She had to show her passport, but at least they didn’t require her to have an account. I remembered to bring along my passport, and stood in the glacially slow Friday afternoon line of clientele impatient to get their weekend money.

Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Over in the business accounts queue, an irate customer pointed to her watch.

“But I was standing here right at four o’clock!” She looked around for validation.

“Right on the dot of four! How can you not take me?!? I’m the last person!” She did have a point, why single her out? Penalty for not rushing the counter?

Meanwhile, I carefully guarded my spot in the queue. This is New York, after all. Those ‘keep one car-length’ and ‘don’t tailgate’ rules don’t apply here, for vehicles or people. When I finally reached the counter, I put the money through the little security trough. I don’t do bank chit-chat, I’m an advocate of speedy, efficient transactions. Besides, this looks like a lynching mob.

The teller asked me three times what the currency was called. BRITISH POUND STERLING. STERLING. POUND STERLING. BRITISH POUNDS. GBP. She also picked up and rotated several notes like she’d never seen security holograms before, or different editions of the same denomination.

I could see the little thought balloons floating above her head: “Oooh, look at the colours! How pretty!”

Then she took out some forms and asked the next teller how to spell the currency on the forms.

Hello? Is this not Chase Manhattan in TIMES SQUARE, the busiest, most famous intersection in all of the United States? There are more tourists here than the population of Scranton, for crying out loud, does nobody change money anymore? I’m a card person, myself, but you’d think Queen Elizabeth II’s face has made enough rounds in the past sixty years or so that she might be recognised by a bank teller in Manhattan. And when all else fails, one might consult the print on the notes.

Then she asked ME how much money was in the pile. The natives behind me were getting restless, so I told her the total quickly, and offered that she might want to check it. I jumped through all their little hoops, showed my passport, filled out my address, signed it, blah blah blah, then went on my merry way downtown towards the financial district… where they had better know what GBP means! :P

Took the 7 train eastbound, then the express 4 southbound, but it still seemed to take forever. That’s Friday rush hour for you. Got out at Bowling Green, which should change its name to Construction Central. Yeesh. In the end, I had to be fetched from across the street at Duane Reade because the Ritz-Carlton sign was completely obscured by a tree. (Who’s idea was THAT? Trees grow, even in New York. Whoa Gail, sarcastic much?)

I was there to meet up with Mister M and Mister B* for some nosh in the 11th floor lounge before their flight to Vancouver. Mister B was on Bangalore time, so he was nodding off. I hadn’t seen Mister B for nigh on a year, so I was well out of the loop on his offshore activities, and it had almost been that long since I’d seen Mister M. There was much to catch up on, but as usual the clock ran down far too quickly. The car service to the airport was waiting downstairs after only half an hour. We continued the conversation in the car, which was quite full already — the trunk was chockers, and the front seat piled high with carry-on luggage. But we made do sharing the back seat and were quite glad we didn’t have to manoeuvre through the Friday gridlock through Midtown and along Van Wyck to JFK. It was zooish, to put it mildly. They checked in to Cathay, and I backtracked to Manhattan.

It’s been a bit of a wacky day, and transportation loomed large on the agenda:

  • car to bus station
  • bus to Port Authority
  • subway to Financial District
  • hired car to JFK
  • AirTrain from JFK to subway
  • subway to Port Authority
  • bus to local station
  • car to home

The day started off wacky, thanks to an overambitious Photoshop project and a very funny phone call from Hong Kong. Days like this should be framed and put behind glass, for posterity.

* It’s Mister B who’s privacy-conscious, but for consistency I cloaked them both in mystery. Ha! Mrs. M would laugh if she read this.

The Photographer’s Right


Gail at work by AviatorDave

Yep, that’s me. I was taking photos of the St. Patrick’s Day parade last Saturday, and David was up one floor in a parking garage, sniper-like. (As if I would add to the paranoia of the American public! He did get some good shots of the parade, until an attendant told him he couldn’t take photos up there, but gave no real reason why not.)

Which brings me to my next question — what are our rights to photograph? Here in the U.S., I’m in a minority camp as far as I can tell. I participate and read discussions in Flickr about the right to photograph something or somebody — accidents, people, situations — and whether an image in the public eye is within one’s rights to capture. Compared to the rest, I’m not aggressive enough. Maybe I’m too shy, maybe I don’t think the need to photograph exceeds general courtesy where people are concerned. I commented in a forum about a photograph someone took of an accident. There was nothing particularly artistic about this photo, and he said both drivers looked fine — it was just a fender bender. I said there didn’t seem to be any purpose served in posting such a photograph, since it was just a picture of two bunged-up cars. I suggested that he might take it to the local police station to see if it would prove useful in an accident report, then David informed me that photographs are not admissible as evidence in court any more. (Later in that thread someone dug up a report stating NO recorded image or data is admissible, including audio.)

Counter to my idea of intent determining the action of taking and posting a photograph, the other arguments in this discussion centre around the idea that you can take photographs of whatever is public. It’s all fair game. There are many instances of people harrassed by authorities for taking photographs of such things as bridges after 9/11, and for that I agree we’ve given up too much freedom for the sake of H*meland Security bureaucratic measures that amount to bugger-all. No, I’m talking about people hiding in the bushes near the homes of famous people, or taking photographs of death and destruction when a person could be helping in an emergency situation. Rubbernecking, basically. I would make a terrible photojournalist, because photography just isn’t THAT important to me. It would take nerves of steel, and I just don’t have them. If someone doesn’t want me to take his or her photograph, I won’t even ask twice. When I look at tabloid magazines, I can’t help but think, “Who’s buying this rubbish?” or “Do unflattering photos of total strangers make people feel better about themselves?”

I realise there’s a huge grey area for photography in terms of privacy, responsibility, and what constitutes the public domain. But I don’t know sometimes if I’m concerned with respecting people’s privacy or inadvertently acknowledging a level of paranoia heightened by media. (What makes the news? Shootings, sex crimes, stalkings, voyeurism, break-ins… it’s a wonder people get the nerve to leave the house after watching the news. We are BOMBARDED with negative imagery every single day!)

I will admit I have taken photos of people covertly, such as people looking at art at MoMA in New York, usually with their backs are turned, but I don’t make a practice of it. I’m very reluctant to take candid photographs of children unless I get their parents’ attention first and get some sort of confirmation that it’s OK for me to photograph them. I’m not posting to Flickr photographs of my own nieces and nephews in the bath, and I’m thinking of even pulling all the kids’ photos off Flickr and this website, or making them available to family only in Flickr, just to cover myself. Is this extreme? I don’t know — I find this country rather extreme at times, so maybe I’m just acclimatising.

In a couple of the threads I mentioned, someone posted a URL to a guide called “The Photographer’s Right”, by Bert P. Krages II, Attorney at Law.

Your Rights When Stopped or Confronted for Photography

On the page is a link to a downloadable guide in PDF format that is loosely based on the ACLU’s Bust Card and the Know Your Rights flyer, which is worth having a look at and printing for future reference. I don’t know what the equivalent would be for Canada, but there’s a link to a UK guide on that site.

As far as the guide’s pertinence to me, I’m less of a street photographer than a still life photographer, but I imagine my inclinations will change over time, and involve more people than inanimate objects. I’ve been reading about bans on public transit such as the New York subway with much interest. I perhaps don’t exercise my rights to the fullest extent of the law — if someone tells me not to photograph, I don’t even question it. My ambivalence towards the weight and balance of rights versus personal ethics will no doubt codify the more photos I take of people in broader contexts.