In April 2007 I was photographing along the Boston harbor, walking around the so-called World Trade Center—how many centers of world travel can there be?—Wharf, otherwise known as Commercial Wharf I think, making use of it as a camera platform. After coffee and a muffin, I strolled the entire length, made a few photos of window reflections, then, on the last side facing Fisherman’s Wharf, I decided to make a series that could be seamed later into a panorama. While doing this, almost finished, a voice bellowed out to me, Excuse me sir, excuse me…
I ignored it, anticipating what it would next say. I came closer to the voice, I turned to face the source of the voice, a rotund security official who stated, No photography here!
I’m not photographing the building, conveniently forgetting that I’d recently done just that.
No matter, no photos of any sort.
I turned away from him, continued my project.
He repeated his message.
I called out, now finished, tough!
Not exactly Non Violent Communication (a communication approach for defusing conflict and opening communication channels), not exactly me, who often is docile and accommodating. But this time I was angered, not only by the man personally, but by the policy, the issue, the fact that so much of contemporary US life is driven by fear. What other than the fear of terrorists could drive such a policy? I am dedicated to resisting this fear, resisting these polices, with all of my being.
At the same time, I realize I must work on one of my primary foibles, entitlement, arrogance, bending the rules to suit me. (as D works on his issue during the pilgrimage, reading about this in his journal,—anger, spite, irritability)
I told the photography group this story when I’d mentioned the possibility of including people in the photos at Habitat. Do they now think I’m a churlish old geezer, filled with hate?