Talking to strangers is something I have struggled with for a long time. But only when it comes to photography. In my professional life, talking to strangers isn’t just a skill; it’s a fundamental need. I do it all the time, and I feel more than confident in those situations. Some of my colleagues would probably say I talk even too much.
Put me in front of an audience, and I’ll moderate a workshop, guide a discussion, or even entertain a room without thinking twice.
So why is it so different when I have a camera in my hand?
Why does my confidence vanish the moment the “ask” isn’t about a business topic, but about capturing a portrait? Maybe it’s because at work, I am expected to speak. It’s part of the role: the audience wants me to talk, they rely on me to lead the session.
With the camera, though, there’s no expectation. It’s me putting myself out there, interrupting someone’s day with a request that feels personal, maybe even intrusive. And that’s where the hesitation comes in.
It sounds simple: just ask! But my brain doesn’t let it be simple. Instead of just asking, I start spinning scenarios in my head: What if they think I’m just another creep? What if they think it’s all about making money? What if they believe I will somehow portray them poorly?
By the time I’m done overthinking, the person has walked away, and I’ve lost the chance.
But here’s the funny thing: whenever I actually do muster the courage to ask, the answer is often positive. People surprise me.
Of course, there are differences. Tourists, I’ve found, are generally more open. Locals, not so much. (My personal record: 10 out of 10 “no’s” in a row at Jungfernstieg in Hamburg.) It also helps when Melanie is with me. I suppose having her by my side makes me look less threatening. Then again, it might be all in my head, and having Melanie by my side just calms me a little. And I have noticed patterns: men are more likely to say no than women, and younger people tend to be more open than older ones.
I thought business cards might help. I had these little cards printed with my name and a QR code pointing to this website and to my Instagram. On the one hand, it seems to prove I’m serious about photography. On the other hand, it can make things worse. Suddenly, I look like a professional, and that aura makes people nervous. It undermines the very thing I am: an amateur who just wants to learn. Maybe, however, this too is just in my head.
A few weeks ago, Melanie and I went to Berlin. We did the usual tourist thing: visited the sites, wandered through art exhibits, met friends, ate out, and went to concerts. And I carried my camera everywhere. Twice, I overcame my hesitation and asked strangers if I could take their photos. And both times, it worked.
I can’t tell you how good it felt. The relief of breaking through my own fears, the joy of connecting with someone for a moment, and the thrill of walking away with a portrait that would never have existed if I hadn’t asked.
That’s the thing I’m slowly learning about photography: sometimes the hardest part isn’t the technical stuff, it’s the courage to step out of my own way.
So next time you are downtown and some slightly awkward, clearly nervous guy with a camera approaches you and asks if he can take your photo… do him a favor. Say yes. Who knows, maybe it’s me, trying once again, and wrestling with my nerves. And if it is, I promise: no stolen souls, no hidden agenda, just one amateur with a big smile and an even bigger sigh of relief when you agree.
Because in the end, it’s not just about the photo. It’s about that tiny spark of connection between two strangers. The kind that makes the world feel a little friendlier, and the memory a little brighter.