Tourists surged across the brilliantly-lit open ground, or wheeled off in small groups and dissolved into the monochrome patchwork of light and shade within the delicately colonnaded arcades.  Two-thirds, perhaps, of the adult males carried cameras.

Ian McEwan – The Comfort of Strangers

I often find that as I bring the camera down from my eye, there are people waiting for the opportunity to pass in front of me in the knowledge that they won’t spoil the shot, which is very nice of them, but personally I take responsibility for capturing the moment and so am quite prepared to wait for a gap in the currents of humanity, or not if I feel their presence will frame or add interest to the picture.  Consequently I’m sure that there are others who think I’m rude if I should stride unknowingly into their carefully composed shot.

In Venice you can’t afford to extend this courtesy too often anyway.  There are so many people carrying cameras and smartphones, and just as many potentially photogenic subjects that you’d never make progress if you kept waiting.

That’s how I justify my rudeness anyway.



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