may express your desire to extend the momentum of an initial

glance, a spark of fascination that has already occurred. Or it

may function as a hopeful mantra, intended to create the very
conditions in which that spark might be ignited.
If you ask politely for permissionMay I take your picture?
the chances are that you are speaking to a stranger. If, on the
other hand, you say I would like to make a portrait of you,
the circumstances are entirely different. First of all, you probably
know this person.
Second, and perhaps more important, is the fact that the word
portrait has a special meaning. Portentous, loaded with gravity
and subtle persuasion, without really saying anything about
what it is that you want, it nonetheless reassures your subject
about the seriousness of your intentions. It may influence the
behavior of your subject, opening the door to anxiety and
trepidation (Should I look serious? Should I be wearing
something special? are two possibilities). It can discourage
playfulness and experimentation.
A portrait, the result of a consensual process, depends upon
the subjects agreement to be photographed. It assumes a level
of trust. The subject usually faces the camera, and the contract
between subject and photographer hangs palpably in the air
that separates them. It is across this agreed-upon distance that
all sorts of power relationships and tensions between or among
the people involved are negotiated. The picture itself records
this exchange.
This book is about photographing human subjectsin many
different ways and from a number of different perspectives.
It is addressed to people who are already acquainted with
photography. A basic competence with cameras, darkrooms
and/or image-processing software is assumed, although not
required for an understanding of most of this book. The
technical matters discussed here are limited to key elements of
the image capture process, and can be found chiefly in the three
appendices.
This is nonetheless a practical book. It addresses issues of
content, paying attention to history, theory, and formal analysis
along the way. A great deal of attention is paid to different aspects
of the picture-making process, and to the conditions surrounding
that process. There are shooting assignments to perform,
different kinds of photographs to make. With that in mind as
the final objective, there is ample discussion of images made
by different photographers. Some of these images are portraits
in a classic sense (they are likenesses, or pictures that explore
ideas about personal identity in a predictable way), and some
are not (such as certain street photographs and fictional tableaux).
What is common to all the images with which this book is
concerned, of course, is the presence of a subjecta person or
a group of people on the other side of the lens. But there is
something else of equal importance, something that is not
literally visible in the image. It is something quite apart from
the manifest subject. It is what finally makes a picture come
alive. It is the presence of the photographers thoughtful regard.
This ingredient, if thats what it can be called, is not simply a way
station in the picture-making procedure. It cannot be reduced
to a burst of enthusiasm, a brilliant concept, a compositional
strategy, or a stylistic quirk. This characteristic, this something
that inhabits a picture, is the felt activity of someone looking,
the photographer in person, embedded
Insofar as you, the reader, may wish to make substantial portraits,
or pictures of people, the catalyzing ingredient in your photograph
might be felt as a moment exchanged between you and
your subject, a spark in the empty space between the two (or
more) of you, brief as the blink of an eye. Or it might be
manifested in a long and steadfast stare, something that may
have felt at the time like nothing more than your own vague,
but intense desire for a good photograph, now invisibly
suspended in the image, like a bridge between inquiring, eager,
or even fretful strangers. Or it might be felt as a fascinated gaze
that wishes to remain solitary, thrown out like a fishing line at
your unwary subject, with only the hope of seizing that
persons presence in the mirror of your own anonymity. As
much as anything else, cultivating this presence, this way of
looking, is what this book is about.