Solitude on the Pavement

Solitude on the pavement? A contradiction in terms, surely. After all, the last thing a street photographer usually seeks is an empty street. For me, the human element, those fleeting gestures and quiet dramas that unfold before the lens, is the reason I wade through the maddening crowd.

And yet, I have come to believe that street photography is best practised alone. Solitude sharpens awareness. It frees us from social expectations and allows for full immersion in the rhythm of the street. Group outings can be enjoyable, especially when spent with others who share the same passion. Even so, they can dull one’s sensitivity to the environment, encourage imitation, or turn the act of photographing into something closer to performance. That shift unsettles the mindset required to blend into the ebb and flow of public space.

There is a certain clarity that only solitude affords. With no one to speak to and no need to perform, the camera becomes more than a tool. It becomes a kind of listening device, attuned to the murmurs of the street. I am not hidden, but I am removed just enough to observe without intruding. There is a long tradition of thought that treats solitude as a condition for truthful observation, and I have come to believe in it. My seeing becomes more honest. There is no need to justify stopping, or explain a sudden turn. I am simply in quiet conversation with my surroundings.

When Company Changes the Rhythm

Something changes when we are not alone. It might begin as nothing more than small talk, the comfort of walking among fellow photographers. But inevitably, the rhythm shifts. We adapt to the group’s pace. We pause together, react to the same scenes, and even raise our cameras at the same time. The act of seeing becomes shared, and with it, the connection between subject and photographer begins to blur. The photography starts to feel performative. Any sense of blending into the street quickly fades, as do those elusive, decisive moments.

In these situations, I often find myself stepping back, as I no longer feel anchored to what I am seeing. It feels as though I have become a bystander, watching someone else’s photograph being made. That sense of immediacy, of private conversation with the street, fades away.

Now that I have written down these thoughts, the chances of anyone emailing to join me on a photo walk are probably quite slim. Still, perhaps it is worth looking at this from another angle.

The Value of Shared Experience

While I remain convinced that solitude sharpens my way of seeing, I would be doing the practice a disservice if I suggested that photographing alone is the only path worth taking. There are times when walking the street with another photographer offers something just as valuable. A quiet pairing, two people with a shared interest, each moving at their own rhythm, yet connected by a mutual respect for the act of looking.

These walks are not about capturing the same image. They are more about accompanying one another without interference, offering encouragement, and creating a space in which the authenticity of the street can still be found. In some ways, this is simply another form of quiet. The camaraderie is there, as is the quiet guidance and the comfort of conversation. And during the coffee breaks, the cameras do indeed come out and images are shared, revealing how differently we can see the same street. To witness how another person has interpreted a moment you passed together is, in itself, a kind of learning.

A Shared Journey with Room to Drift

There are other benefits. Street photography often goes hand in hand with travel, and exploring a new city can come with its share of expenses. In this context, travelling with a fellow photographer can be not only enriching, but also practical. Sharing costs can make the trip more manageable. There is also reassurance in having company in unfamiliar places, particularly when navigating quieter streets or photographing late in the day.

But even here, balance matters. Travelling together is not the same as photographing together. Some of the most successful trips I have taken with fellow photographers worked precisely because we allowed one another the space to wander off, to move quietly on our own terms, knowing we would regroup later. It is a kind of pact. A shared journey with permission to drift. That, I have found, is the sweet spot, where practical realities meet mutual understanding.

Workshops and Starting Out

On the other hand, for beginner photographers who are still finding their feet in this genre, attending a group workshop and observing an established photographer work the scene can be highly rewarding. I would go so far as to say it is essential. These photowalks offer valuable insights into how to look for pictures, how to position oneself, and how to remain open to the unexpected. They also help ease the anxiety that often comes with photographing in a public space. Talking with others in the group, sharing experiences and observations, also forms an important part of the learning process.

Workshops come at a price. Overheads must be met, and a margin maintained. To keep the cost affordable, group numbers typically range from six to eight participants. For photographers who already have a sound grasp of technique and some experience on the street, this can become problematic. My advice is to attend the workshop, but consider it a starting point. Use it to familiarise yourself with the location, and if possible, stay on a few extra days to explore the area in your own way, either alone or with a small group of like-minded photographers working at a similar level.

Walking with Care

In the end, whether walking alone or in quiet company, what matters most is the attention we bring to the street. The camera records, but it is our way of seeing that gives meaning to what it captures. For me, solitude remains the surest way to stay in tune with the rhythm of a place, to notice those quiet exchanges that often pass unseen. But presence is not always found in silence. When shared with the right person, the act of looking can feel just as focused. However we choose to move through the street, perhaps what matters most is that we walk with care, and remain open to whatever the world chooses to show us.