Monday, 14 June 2004 | Photo protest

The photographers' rights protest felt like being part of the paparazzi while simultaneously being a tabloid celebrity. Naturally, all of the protest's participants had cameras, and when there was a subject of interest—it seemed that we were often in agreement as to what subjects were of interest—we collectively pointed our cameras in the proper direction and fired away like eager soldiers.

But, since we were also the subject of our own pictures, we were all constantly being photographed as well, regardless whether we had our cameras held to our faces, at our hips, in our bags. Regardless of anything. Eventually I got used to it (more or less), but it never felt normal to be part of a pack of people roaming through the subway, especially one so prolific with its memory boxes.

I arrived at Grand Central alone and on time. The group was easy to spot—a collection of people loosely gathered near the information booth, holding various shapes of cameras while somehow looking decidedly un-tourist-like. I stood on the edge and watched for the first several minutes, initially too groggy and anti-social to take out my camera or interact.

Lots of the black and silver bodies had large, expensive lenses and clever flash attachments, and some people carried intimidating video cameras equipped with lights. Others had, instead, rather lo-tech models; my German friend Janine, for example, brought a disposable camera she'd purchased specifically for the event. She'd innocently removed the cardboard casing, which drew lots of attention from the other photographers, who were curious about the unusual little black plastic number she carried around.

We set off toward the subway together, a group of strangers with a common grievance: the proposed MTA camera ban. Shortly after we began, we were unavoidably were split up by subway cars and walking speed and general confusion, and the mitosis served to produce several miniature protests out of the initial 60(?)-person unit. While riding the trains in a rectangular path, we talked to each other about the ban, about our experiences with the cops, about our cameras, about where we were from. A few strangers stopped me to ask Why all the people with cameras?, but, for the most part, the protest seemed to be less about getting immediate attention and more about recognizing rights and perhaps about getting a little media coverage. [If you're interested in leaving comments for the MTA about the ban, go here.]

I was generously given some literature to carry with me that states my photo-taking rights, for the next time I'm pestered by the police. As I can't imagine that the police would appreciate ME telling THEM about the law, I'm hoping they don't question me again any time soon.

Our final destination was the MTA headquarters. We stood outside and waited twenty minutes for the rest of the initial group to catch up. Once they arrived, we (guess what?) photographed ourselves in front of the building, from behind a large cloth American flag someone had brought along (to highlight our rights, I guess).

Of course, being that we're all fond of taking pictures, it was apparently unacceptable for only one person to get a photo of the congregation in front of the MTA. Not surprisingly, one by one, photographers crept to the other side of the flag to snag a picture of the group, so that, in the end, there were absurdly more people on the wrong side of the flag than there were in front of the MTA. (I stayed on the MTA side.) As we stood in opposite territory, divided by the flag, we shot each other like friendly opponents in a camera war.

Here are my photos.