Dear candid photos,
You communicate the essence of a moment, outside of camera angles and staged poses. You give the gift of authenticity – something invaluable in our plastic, sugar-coated world.
And for that, I’m writing you this love letter.
I’m a photographer, and have been since the very first photo class I took. The medium hooked me with its reality, and its ability to effectively and efficiently communicate the things that I experience/witness. In fact, I’m so hooked that my camera roll is now filled to the brim with more than 50,000 photos (I wouldn’t recommend it, I’m in a constant battle with my storage space).
Something else about photography that enticed me is its ability to create quickly; it literally operates at the speed of light. As a result of this, one could argue that it can display the details of space and time more authentically than other mediums. This is especially applicable to candid photos.
The word candid means “frank, truthful, and straightforward”; therefore a candid photo literally means a truthful picture of a subject. And this is precisely why I’m so drawn to candids: they’re authentic, by definition. Genuine moments, as they happened in real-time. Sure your hair might have looked bad that day, or maybe your eyes were closed — but hey! Now you know you looked that weird in real life! Of course, the reverse is true as well: the pretty photos also happened in real life. My friend’s eyes looked that pretty as the sunlight came in through the classroom window. My parents looked that happy as they were dancing in the living room, each holding one of our dogs. Ugly moments are real and tangible, it’s true. But so are beautiful ones. Beautiful, beautiful moments that exist separate from any practiced smiles or carefully placed limbs.
To me, taking candid photos of someone is an expression of love. My reaction to seeing people I love doing literally anything is almost always “Where’s my camera.” I want to be able to show people how I see them, in case they don’t see it for themselves. That sounds very self-righteous and “What Makes You Beautiful” of me, but it’s accurate. I don’t understand how people can witness all the humor, passion, and REALITY around them and not immediately want to capture it on a pixelated canvas for all eternity.
Taking a really good candid is such a satisfying moment. It’s the feeling of knowing that you were in the right place at the right time, and you found a second that meant something, meant enough for you to click the shutter. According to Japanese photographer Alao Yokogi, one should, “press the shutter at the moment your heart senses something.” I think that captures my sentiments well.
And don’t get me started on what happens if the person you took a photo of actually likes the photo. The level of satisfaction I feel seeing my friends look at themselves with admiration is astronomical. And if they post the photo, it’s like being added to the hall of fame; I’m extremely proud to say that many of the photos on my friends’ Instagram profiles were taken by yours truly (you can hold your applause).
Because candids are like a love language to me, I’m always honored when people take them for me. You thought that moment, with me in it, was worth remembering! Growing up, my grandma used to dutifully document my family using a little red point-and-shoot. We’d be playing Parcheesi or eating a special dinner, and she would say, “Ok now, look candid!” While this request somewhat defeated the purpose of a candid photo, it resulted in me associating the word with the collection of memories. When she said that, it meant that something was happening that someone found to be worth saving. And that’s a really good feeling, the idea that someone wants to look back fondly on their experiences with you.
I don’t really trust posed photos of myself; I know I can fool a camera, plaster on a smile. They’re like a gourmet piece of chocolate: the icing looks amazing, and the gold dust is sitting just right, but you can’t really picture eating it. Chocolate like that is for sitting in a fancy display case, not for enjoying. But I like a photo that will melt on your tongue – a homemade brownie, with the plate still warm. Something slightly messy, raw. That’s the kind of thing you can actually sink your teeth into. I’m not a gourmet piece of chocolate, and my life isn’t a display case; I don’t really want it to look like one in my photos.
Candids also offer a reference point/reality check for your internal experience. I love that they give me the ability to see myself from the outside. I think it’s very valuable to be offered a perspective different from the voice that rattles around in my head, muttering under its breath and trudging noisily through my thoughts. In my opinion, there’s basically no such thing as a bad candid: either I look good and that’s great, or I look bad and that’s funny.
Furthermore, candids allow you to live in the moment and experience things fully, while still having cute photos to share from the experience – Win-Win! And sharing/reminiscing on the photos is so much more rewarding when they’re showing real moments, rather than pre-packaged ones.
Modern-day candids may appear to be a huge divergence from the stiff and staged portraits people often picture when thinking of old photos, but in actuality, there are plenty of cheerful spur-of-the-moment shots taken before the age of modern photography. In fact, the first candid photo, Louis Daguerre’s Boulevard Du Temple, was taken in 1838. While the reason for the stoicism of old portraits isn’t known for certain, one common theory includes the idea that because portraits were so rare, people wanted to look proper in them. They believed such a serious event demanded an equally serious expression. Mark Twain even once wrote, “A photograph is a most important document, and there is nothing more damning to go down to posterity than a silly, foolish smile caught and fixed forever.”
Although photography has changed dramatically in the past couple of centuries, we seem to have returned to the era of the staged portrait. Nowadays, so much of what we see is manufactured, with people used as props for the latest and greatest new thingamajig that you simply MUST have. Obviously, platforms like Instagram and Facebook (both under the control of Meta) have been criticized to hell and back for their fabricated content. But even apps like BeReal, which markets itself as the app for authenticity, barely provide genuine content anymore. Filters and editing apps are becoming increasingly advanced, and we seem to be becoming increasingly removed from reality.
I view candids as almost a protest to that. Yes, there’s still inherent bias in any photo, and yes it’s nearly impossible to precisely show what a moment was like. But they come way closer, and that definitely counts for something. One small step towards authenticity, one giant leap for mankind!
So I’ll continue to fill my camera roll with thousands of candids, and I’d like nothing more than to have my silly smile – and the smiles of my loved ones — caught and fixed forever (I’m willing to risk a little damnation).
