A few years ago I was transferring some old VHS tapes to DVDs when I came across footage that I had made during my time as a conscript soldier in Taiwan. I’d nearly forgotten about that video, but watching it again, I was amazed at what I’d managed to capture.

I was nearing the end of my military service in late 1997. Thanks to the entrenched seniority system tradition I had relatively few duties apart from regular training and managing our base’s Karaoke bar, or KTV as we called it. Some of the officers had become aware that in my pre-military days I had been a camera operator at a major cable network; they called on me to film some official functions and promotional videos, so I was allowed to bring my camcorder, a JVC GF500 that was already eight years old at that point, onto base for a short time.

But it seemed a shame to miss such an opportunity to record the strange, unknown world of military conscript life in 1990’s Taiwan, hidden as it was behind walls and guards, away from civilian life, so one weekend afternoon when the base was at its emptiest, I took out the bulky JVC and walked cautiously around filming things. When I did encounter other soldiers, I’d offer explanations such as “Just making sure this thing works ok” or “Recording stuff to remember this by,” etc. Many thought it was some kind of photographic device as they’d seen me taking still pictures before, something I’d been doing since my arrival at the base two years before. When I was a rookie I’d had to hide disposable film cameras, then available at convenience stores, in my uniform, but eventually I was designated the official base photographer and could take photos a little more openly.

The other soldiers, even the officers, seemed ok with me taking video on base, and I grew more confident, although still only daring to film during leisure times. I recorded the mundane minutiae of military life from a conscript’s point of view, from washing dinner trays and playing sports to guard duty, office work, equipment maintenance and even managing the various cats and dogs that found their way onto base. The KTV was featured prominently as that was my domain, and soldiers could feel a bit more free and open there.

The most interesting aspect of the video was when soldiers opened up to me about how they felt about military service, being made to sacrifice years of their lives in order to counter the threat of attack and invasion that had lasted decades at that point (and continues to this day) due to the PRC’s territorial ambitions. The sons of politicians, high-level gangsters and other rich families could often finagle their way out of service, but most young men saw it as an inevitable part of life at that point, something that could only be endured and put behind them as quickly as possible.

Years ago, when I transferred the footage to DVDs, I thought, “This would be a really interesting video.” And then I put it aside as I was busy with other projects. But recently I dug them out again and decided it was time to make something of them. My first “old VHS” videos were from college and fairly well received, but this one felt different. Surely there is no other such footage out there, I thought. First of all, there were no readily available recording devices at the time that would have been accessible to an ordinary conscript soldier. Even as recently as 2013, a soldier was incarcerated and basically killed by the punishment that caused him to experience heatstroke, all for the supposed “crime” of just having a mobile phone on base, though by that time mobile phones were already common and included cameras. Personal vendettas were suspected in that case; it resulted in a huge public outcry and criminal charges for many of the perpetrators.

Another factor in my decision to publish the video, aside from the fact that everyone in the video has likely since left the military in one way or another, is the fact that the base itself no longer exists. The division relocated at some point in the 2000’s, and the base structures lay derelict for several years, gradually being retaken by nature. I revisited it at that point, entering through a hole in the back wall and spending a few hours exploring and photographing the overgrown ruins. But then in the 2010’s the place was completely razed; nothing is left, and while there is talk of some new development, it remains too far away from Miaoli’s city center for easy access, even though a new wider highway has replaced the old winding two-lane mountain road that existed when I served there.

So earlier this year I spent a month or two going through the old footage, editing it into some kind of order, splicing in photos I’d taken on my last visit before the place was razed. Surely this is one-of-a-kind material, I thought with some amount of trepidation. My previous video about my time as a student at Tunghai University had garnered a bit of attention from the nostalgia crowd as it too is a window to another world, albeit a more accessible one. And some of my photography of military service has been criticized as being a bit too “honest” and showing a side of military life some didn’t feel “appropriate.”

I needn’t have spared the matter that much thought, however. After I uploaded the video to YouTube, there has basically been no response. Which, to be honest, is to be expected; what means a great deal to me doesn’t necessarily mean anything to others. Non-Taiwanese people most likely don’t care and can’t understand most of the language in the video, and Taiwanese viewers might just want to forget those days. Fortunately, I am not a “serious” YouTuber with flashy titles, jump cuts, soundtracks, millions of subs or the whole WHATSUP GUYS SMASH THOSE BUTTONS! shtick. That would be a lot of pressure, and even those folks are getting more desperate as their YT-derived income gravitates increasingly towards AI-generated garbage.

In fact, the more Internet companies move away from real content, and by “real” I don’t just mean non-AI-generated content but honest, candid, empathetic connections with any level of subtlety, the more I miss those days, back when I would lay on my bunk in the barracks reading articles in WIRED magazine about a dreamy, net-connected future of equality and thoughtful discourse that, almost three decades later, has disappeared into the encroaching overgrowth as inexorably as the old base itself.

ego

/ˈiːɡəʊ,ˈɛːɡəʊ/

noun

1. a person's sense of self-esteem or self-importance.

Numerous discussions of the practice have been popping up on social media platforms such as Twitter, where one can come across diatribes centered around the evils of what is being called ‘toxic’ street photography; the practice of Bruce Gilden, described as running around rudely violating the personal space and ‘rights’ of hapless pedestrians with his closely held flash and brusque New York attitude, is often brought up as an example. Garry Winogrand is also criticized for his admittedly questionable “Women are Beautiful” work. Many speakers state the remedy to this state of affairs can only be first engaging with one’s subjects before any photography can take place, which would seem to negate the possibility of truly candid photography unless a great deal of time is spent becoming familiar with all involved, at which point it would then become pure documentary work. The work these critics point to as “ethical street photography”, and in many cases the work they themselves produce, is however more akin to staged portraiture, often photos of people standing on a street, staring blankly at the camera, many of them posing.

While some of this kind of photography can be interesting, much of it seems to be more about satisfying the photographer’s ego than the people being photographed. And the photographers themselves, satisfied that they got the shots they had planned, don’t even seem to be aware of nor care about this limitation, let alone the degree to which they have inserted themselves into the work at the expense of their subjects.

Of course, all photography is about the photographer to some extent. But in the course of such an interaction between photographer and photographed, the demand placed upon the subject to react to the photographer’s presence according to whatever social contract applies removes that subject from their original purpose and authentic emotional state. It wrests their attention to the lens and the performative act of ‘being photographed.’ When viewing such work, I can’t help but wonder what the photographer interrupted, what these people had been doing, what they’d been thinking before the photographer called their attention to them: “Hey can I take your picture? Could you stand there? That’s it.” The insistence that a subject acknowledges the photographer’s presence and purpose, then acquiesces to their requests – rather than making a photograph respectfully and without intruding – could almost be bordering on narcissistic.

On the other side of this debate, of course, you have what I’d refer to as the “street bros”, who are quite vocal about expressing their right to “shoot” and “capture” strangers on the street. To them, as they stride down the thoroughfare with GoPros recording their safari adventure for their YouTube channel and TikToks that will no doubt be accompanied by fast-paced percussion music in their videos, street photography is an almost vindictive, chest-beating pursuit, getting as close and aggressive as possible. One of these guys (and yes, it seems to always be guys), popped up in a Flickr street group the other day, slamming anyone with the view that the feelings of one’s subject should be considered: “Enough said: street photography is a harsh genre and not for the faint hearted,” he posted. “You must be committed to the genre and retain a stiff upper lip when it comes to snowflakes and their feelings…these snowflakes will always find me, and a bunch of others, ready to confront them and put them in their place.” The use of the term ‘snowflakes’ is quite revealing here, and reeks of the kind of toxic masculinity and straight-white-male entitlement that accompanies the subjugation of others, fueled by an egocentric worldview and lacking human empathy.

“…the demand placed upon the subject to react to the photographer’s presence according to whatever social contract applies removes that subject from their original purpose and authentic emotional state. It wrests their attention to the lens and the performative act of ‘being photographed.’“

I’ve only run into a few such individuals myself. Again, while there is potential for interesting results, the work produced tends in most cases to be rather sloppy, jarring, and lacking contemplation. It seldom says anything except, “Look at me!” But as much as this behavior is described as being fundamental to street photography, it doesn’t correlate with the majority of photographers I have encountered.

Perhaps, as dichotomous as these two extreme positions of “street photography should be banned” and “street photography should be practiced ruthlessly” may seem, these two approaches could be said to be essentially about the same thing: the photographer’s ego-driven urge to impose themselves into the work, making the purported subject a secondary consideration.

The obvious reason for this migration towards these particular binaries is the desire to invoke public perception: The kind of photos that get attention these days on social media tend to be straightforward, obvious pieces that immediately hit the viewer over the head; after all, they only have a fraction of a second before said viewer swipes on past on their tiny screen, and these days attention is capital. Thus, details, subtlety and contemplation have receded from our template.

That street photography is being boiled down to two such unappetizing choices isn’t just depressing, it’s a gross misrepresentation of what was once seen as a much more diverse and complex genre of photography. There is an entire-disregarded world in between the two poles, a world encompassing multitudinous ways of engaging with subjects without imposing oneself onto them…photographs that are instead gentle, detailed, reflective and poetic observations without the need to either shove the crux of the content down the viewer’s throat for the ‘Likes’ or decry the ethical nature of one’s practice with a diatribe on ‘consent’ as a corollary to quality. Instead, these two strikingly similar extremes have somehow come to bear false witness to the entire genre.

How did we get here? Perhaps one extreme created the other, and the two polemics have expanded and reinforced each other, overtaking more moderate and nuanced positions, strict black and white crowding out all the tones on the spectrum in between. Social media companies have thrust us into this paradigm to keep our attention riveted on the ensuing drama, which in turn keeps their bottom lines going up, and they’ll continue to do so as long as it can make them more money.

Might it just be that the deeper problem isn’t how we choose to photograph, but rather how the role of personal photography is perceived in the context of our ever-more tenuous connections with each other amid the constantly growing encroachment of 24/7 surveillance by the government/corporate realm trying to wrest such observational authority from our purview? This would explain the compulsion of the ‘street bro’ crowd to assert their ‘rights’ to take pictures, as well as the desire for other individuals to insist on the conscious, consensual participation of the subject in all pictures made in public spaces. Yet, in both of these binary counterpoints, the imposition of the photographer’s ego erodes authenticity in the relationship between photographer, subject, and audience. Real photography should be about genuine connection, at its best conveying the human condition, but as we lose touch with each other, as social media paradigms encroach upon our sense of self, seeking to replace generations of actual social connection, we have lost much of any basic sense of trust we ever had.

Our true masks in these times are not made of fabric or paper, but of mistrust. As our connections have been siphoned off by media manipulation, blue checkmark validation vainly attempting to replace actual self-validation, our attention being redirected to bolster corporate bottom lines, our desperate urge to prop up our sense of self has overflowed into the space we previously reserved for others in our hearts and minds.

Observation with compassion and empathy may be cynically described as nearly impossible in such a state of affairs, driving the view that street photography can only be either inherently exploitative or a billboard for the ego, but it is vital that we keep it alive. Otherwise, it won’t just be photography that disappears from view, it will be our very humanity.

‘森爸的街頭攝影誌’ 這個網站有介紹攝影師, 街頭攝影, 等話題，最近有一篇訪問我的文章， 歡迎大家看一下：

前陣子在Facebook街頭攝影社團裡注意到一位攝影師的作品，林道明，他是位有著美國面孔，拿著台灣身分證的美裔台灣人，他雖然有著美國臉孔，但卻是道道地地的台灣人，在台灣當過兵，甚至寫了本在軍中生活體驗的中文書。

林道明在20歲的時候來臺當交換學生，從此愛上台灣，回美國之後開始存錢，畢業回到台灣後花了一翻工夫，放棄了美國籍，拿到台灣身分證，他移民到台灣已經20幾年了。我們走在台北的路上常常都在嫌棄台北很髒亂，地又不平，但在他眼中的台北是美的。我想他比大部份的台北人都熟悉台北，也比很多台灣人都對這塊土地更有熱情及認同感。以下是我對林道明的訪談。

請介紹一下你自己

我出生於美國，但入籍後24年來多半的歲月都是生活在台灣，平常喜歡掃街拍照，也常與幾位喜愛音樂的朋友們一起玩音樂，也因如此我們成立了”泥灘地浪人”的爵士樂團。

請介紹一下 “Burn My Eye” group

Burn My Eye 的社團 http://www.burnmyeye.org，是我們幾位在flickr裡Hardcore Street Photography的攝影同好所組成的社團，我們主要負責的成員除了我還有其他兩位HCSP的管理員，我們希望透過彼此的合作，讓參與我們攝影的同好夥伴們，在相互切磋的平台裡技巧更加精進，同時也可以在討論區讓大家一起分享彼此的作品。

我們組合BME至今已參加過兩次大型的攝影展。歷經各方的指教這對我來說是非常寶貴的經驗。

為什麼喜歡街頭攝影?

我喜歡瞬間突發的畫面，雖然可遇而不可求，但卻是我隨性漫遊在街頭最有樂趣的享受，尤其人與環境之間所構成的協調或不協調都正是我最期待的特寫畫面。

街頭攝影對你的意義?

平時我較不擅於言詞，但街頭攝影卻無形的成了我與生活週遭的橋梁，讓我有更多的接觸與互動，這對我來說是非常有意義的。

你如何形容自己的攝影風格?

其實我從未考量我的攝影風格是什麼，我只是盡情的捕捉一些呈現在我觀景窗中，不論是有趣或是一些讓我能想像的畫面。所以我不會想被局限在所謂的「風格」上。

最喜歡的街頭攝影師，為什麼?

太多了！在台灣我很欣賞鄧南光先生及黃伯驥先生的作品。而西方的攝影師有Cartier-Bresson，Koudelka，Eggleston，Doisneau，Erwitt, 等大師。

最滿意的一張作品是哪一張? 為什麼?

其實這個問題有些尷尬，因為一直以來我都在追求下一張更精采的作品，所以你問我最滿意的照片是哪一張，我只能回答應該是下一張吧！

街頭攝影時遇過的困難

對於稍縱即逝的畫面反應不夠快或是受場地限制。

街頭攝影時遇過難忘的事

幾年前我在東京新宿街拍時，巧遇日本攝影大師森山大道老師正在街頭拍照，雖然當時我們沒有當面接觸，但我拍下他當時攝影專注的神情，幾年後他被應邀前來台北演講，我特別將他的照片納入我的攝影集裡，他非常意外的收到我的禮物。

對想要開始街頭攝影的朋友說的話

只要願意給自己一個自我放逐街頭的機會，流浪探險所帶回來的照片絕對是難得珍貴的寶。

以上是我對林道明的訪談，下面還有一段關於林道明的內容我很喜歡，截取自「閱讀台北」的網站內容。

“15歲生日收到一台單眼相機的禮物後，林道明就迷上了攝影，他最愛拍的主題是城市夜景，尤其是剛下雨的臺北，閃著迷迷濛濛的光芒，這時路燈、霓虹燈、大樓玻璃帷幕以及柏油路面的反光，使得他鏡頭下的臺北有種超現實、如夢似幻的美。林道明說：「很多人說我把臺北的醜拍得很美，可惜大多數人對臺北抱持負面的看法，以致他們看不到我在其中發現的美。」

林道明眼中臺北的美是巧合而來，不是人為造做出來的美，他說很多國際城市的美是經過規劃設計的，但是臺北的美是自然美，是在天時、地利、人和下顯現出來的美。臺北的美還是一種亂中有序的感覺，由很多不同的面貌、不同的感覺摻雜一起，而且也跟攝影師當下的心境有關。他曾經用隨身攜帶的小相機捕捉到很美的瞬間，但是他日同一時間、同一地點用專業相機拍攝，拍出來的照片就是感覺不對，所以說要拍出好照片還非得各種因緣俱足不可。

林道明很喜歡塞了很多東西的狹窄巷弄，在裡面探索總是會發現一些驚奇。他喜歡士林、萬華一帶，那裡的小巷弄就像是寶窟，要走進去才能知道裡面藏了什麼寶貝。他眼光獨到，甚至臺灣隨處可見的纜線、鐵窗，在晚上看來也有種「異常」的美。

臺北人看臺北人 臺北什麼人都有

問林道明對臺北人有什麼看法，他直言：「你叫臺北人形容臺北人，這樣我的回答會不客觀。」在他看來，臺北是什麼樣的人都有，就是「一樣米養百樣人」啦！

林道明發現臺北人的住宅有不少的窗戶，但是常用櫥櫃擋住窗外的視線，由此他觀察到臺北人比較少往外看，對週遭的環境較漠然，他建議臺北人不要侷限在自己小小的空間裡，也不要一直去想自己的問題，學著往外看，人人都把生活空間往外擴大後，整個大環境就會改善，困擾自己的問題也就微不足道了。

林道明歡迎大家上他的「潑猴的日記」網站 poagao.org，裡面有中、英文兩個部落格，還有他拍攝的照片，如果對他拍攝的照片感興趣，還可到六張犁的「復古花瓶」餐廳欣賞他的大作，他希望以「攝影」會友，和大家分享他鏡頭下的城市搜奇。”

以上是台灣攝影師林道明的訪問，我覺得看了他的照片會有馬上想出去拍照的衝動，我們每天習以為常的台北也能有這麼多有張力的故事性畫面。謝謝林道明願意分享他在街頭攝影的一些想法及經驗。以下是他的作品網站及相關網站。

Burn My Eye：http://www.burnmyeye.org/tclin/bio/

Flickr：http://www.flickr.com/photos/poagao/

街頭攝影Flickr社團：攝膽包天 筆筆街市： http://flickr.com/groups/gutsyisland/

最近我一直在思索一個問題，生活與攝影是怎樣的一個關係。我每天會依著不同的心情攜帶不同的相機出門，有時拍底片，有時拍數位，有時拍單眼，有時拍傻瓜，為的只是能紀錄生活週遭有趣的人事物或意想不到的故事，所以我喜愛的攝影方式一直都是隨性、沒有目標、不受拘束或預設的。或許我想表達的是一種現象，或許是合諧的光與影，或許是一個故事，亦或許是一個幽默的情結。那都是傳達我眼中的一種映像。

我攝影的作風及美的觀點也許與許多人的表達方式不同，但我認為攝影單純就是一種藝術的表現，也是表達自我想法的一種方式，所以每一個畫面應該是擷取於自己週遭豐富的生活經歷。這樣的作品會顯現出一種自然生活的本質，當然也是獨一無二的畫面。

一直以來我非常不喜歡跟隨著別人的鏡頭找尋靈感，因為那永遠都不是自己想表達的想法，所以有時總覺得為什麼有些人會一窩蜂的追逐一些攝影人的作品，不斷的複製再複製，以為自己的攝影技巧已經突飛猛進，但卻萬萬沒想到自己仍然還是停留在初學的模仿階段，這也就是為什麼很多人最終會放棄攝影的原因，因為從來都沒有發現攝影真正的樂趣是要融入在自我豐富的週遭生活。

放下惱人的光圈問題、快門問題、哪台相機才合適自己的問題，盡情的用心去拍攝去享受，你會發現原來我們忽略的才是最美的畫面。

最近對於攝影有些許的想法提出來與大家分享；記得小時候我非常熱愛照相，不論是家庭聚會亦或是旅遊，每當家人需要拍照，我總是家中唯一公認的小小攝影師，

2009年已經快要過一半了， 好久沒有在這寫東西。 繁瑣的電影剪輯暫告一段落， 最近又開始編輯台灣饅

前幾天坐捷運時接到一通馬祖來的電話， 說我的作品得了那邊比賽的銀牌還有一張佳作。

我要辦第一個攝影展。 其實， 這還不能算是一個真真的展覽， 只是把我的作品掛在一家酒吧的墻壁上。 但是， 雖然這種發展應該十幾年前就開始， 但是還算是一小步。 那家酒吧餐廳叫做 ‘復古花瓶’ 地點在捷運六張里站附近。 我這禮拜六， 就是十月二十七日晚上八點左右會在那邊跟一些朋友聚一聚， 如果有興趣可以來看一下。另外， 有一家美國大規模出版社要用我的攝影作品當它一本即將要出的書的封面藝術。 聽到當然高興， 但是還感到自己書的英文版無法初的遺憾與嫉妒。

好消息中還需要有壞消息當陪伴： 我還要搬家了！

前一陣子有一個跟藝術有關的月刊X-CUP用e-mail訪問我。 他們在寫一片有關老外在臺灣搞藝術的文