Consent Implied

I was on the GO train the other day when a young woman embarked. She sat diaginally across from me in one of those double row seats. She appeared to be a student. Beside her, and straight across from me, sat another young woman - older, professional, complete in business suit and all. This was in the still chilly March weather.

To my left, and in the corner, sat a gentleman. He might've been in his late twenties, early thirties. Bear with me. I'm going somewhere with this.

Shortly after we left Union station, the student and the gentleman struck up a quiet conversation. After all, we were seated in the Quiet Zone. It may have been about...ah! Yes. It was about his watch. There was something she found remarkable about it.

Shortly after that, she took her drawing pad and a pencil from her bag. And, she started drawing. I made a polite glance and realized she was drawing a caricature of the man. I cast a furtive glance in his general direction to catch any expression of surprise I could. Nada. Either he was blissfully unaware that his "likeness" was being reproduced, or, he was aware and didn't mind. Or, he did mind  but chose not to be confrontational. Or some like thought.

She continued drawing, rather fast, I might add. She really got that talent down pat. While she did, the young woman next to her reached for her smartphone, then held it up at an angle to direct the lens toward the notepad. Yes. She was unabashedly taking a few photos of the artwork in progress.

By this time, the guy being drawn was clearly in the know about the representation of his image. I'd caught him looking at the notepad. He'd said nothing. I wouldn't go as far as to say he seemed flattered. That'd be a romantic unfounded notion. But, at the least, he did appear a bit amused and totally, as in totally, not bothered.

The younger girl continued her drawing. She too didn't seem to care at all that her work was being photographed by a total stranger - in such proximity!

It was like an unspoken agreement among them.

Of course, when she wrapped that up and started in a new page and glanced a couple of times in my direction, I had to ask, "Are you drawing me now?"
"No," she answered with a smile.
The young woman and the man smiled, too. But, I needed to add, and so I did, "Okay, 'cause I'd have to, y'know, change seats," I said with a feint smile of the pursed "so-there's-that" lips kind. They did a mix of polite smile and chuckle.

At the next stop, our little community disbanded and life went on.

So, we are here. Total strangers all up in total strangers' faces like that. Someone who's performing pretty much expects the smartphones to come out. But, here was a guy, going about his business and voíla! There'd been no request for permission to draw him. There'd been no request for permission to take a photo of the drawing. The characters in this true story simply did as they pleased, as though based on the assumption that the man was worth drawing, or the drawing was worth snapping, consent was implied.

A few weeks after that episode, I spotted a tweet re an article about a young woman who'd had a kind of altered rendition of her Instagram pic put on show. The blown-up photo was said to be sold for about $90,000. Just. Like. That.

I've said before that, these days, once you leave your house - or anyone else's house for that matter - be prepared to be caught up in someone else's video or photo. (Alas, you may be photo bombing and not know it.) It's as though your decision to be out and about in public means your consent to be caught on camera is implied.

I read an article recently about a (perhaps little-known) by-law in Toronto that forbids the taking of photos in parks. And I've visited at least one library that forbids the taking of photos within its walls - no matter how cute you think your niece and her playmates are, standing beside the giant stuffed gorilla. Just sayin'.

Well, you have to leave the house at some point. Correct? Whatyagonnado. Take comfort in the fact that most people couldn't care less about the people who happen to be caught in the background of their pics. Really.

You can leave the house now.


Claudia
www.cyopro.com
www.twitter.com/cyopro

Invaluable Collection or Intrusion ?

On returning from lunch with sis the other day, I got to a traffic light about half-a-block from my workplace.  As I got to the intersection to wait on the walk sign, I heard 'Oooh!"  Not in an "Ooh and ahh" way, but in that guttural tone that makes you know, instantly, that something has gone terribly wrong.

I looked at the bus/coach that had just stopped in the intersection while making a left and, almost instinctively, looked beneath it.  There they were, his two legs.  No, they hadn't been severed.  They were still attached to his body.  But, that was all I could make out from his lying right next to the left front wheel.

At the next signal, I crossed and got to a better vantage point.  It was an elderly man - maybe late seventies/early eighties, white, gray-headed. There he lay.  Still.  Just as it had happened, one woman literally took off!  She dashed across the road (from where I had been waiting at the light).  By the time I got to the other side, getting a better look, she was kneeling beside him, her phone to her ear.

Of course, a few dozens of us - on both sides of the street -  had, by now, stopped to look.  I had seen the driver make a mad dash from the bus, leaving the door open (of course!), round the front and, again, by the time I got to the other location, he was also already kneeling by the man's side.  So, there were about four people - the woman on her cell; a bulky looking guy picking up the man's bag of grocery; the driver and a police officer who had been on the beat at that intersection (or pretty close by), leaning his shoulder in as he spoke on his device.

There were a few things that struck me as I stood there.  One, I got there after the accident occured. (Somehow I think I need to make that clear in writing.)  I saw some of what had happened just after.  He lay there, seemingly unable to move, while the four people did what they were doing as they/we waited for an ambulance to arrive.  I wondered how many people had actually seen it happen.  Y'know?  In real time.  Next, it somehow made sense (and I'm not trying to justify my non-involvement), that the folks who were close to him on the scene, were not being encumbered by anyone else.  It took about five minutes for an ambulance to arrive.  It was at about this point I noticed something I hadn't even thought of before.  A man stopped close to me, held up his smartphone, and started some form of recording - not sure whether they were still or moving shots.  Now, I'm pretty sure that there were quite a few of us within that gathering with smartphones.  Yet, he was the only one I noticed.  Whether he was the only one doing it, is not really my point.  My thoughts are going to the why.  Why did some of us decide that this was a moment not to be captured in picture or video?  Even after I saw him do this, I still did not have the "urge" to record.  I dunno.  Wasn't it like a sort of intrusion on the poor gentleman's demise?  And, what the heck would I be doing with that shot anyway?  What place would it have in my collection?

I'm not sure at what point he stopped recording.  All he'd got from me was that glance.  It could have been after one of the paramedics stooped by the old man with a flat board-looking contraption.  Maybe it was after they gently turned him  - he had been lying on his belly with one side of his face to the ground - revealing the other bloodied side.  I grimaced.  Maybe it was after the paramedic, after assisting with that manoeuvre, rethought his choice, went back to the ambulance and returned with the gurney.  At whatever point it was, I imagine that the man and his phone had got their fill and he'd moved on.

When the gurney came out, that was when I moved on.  I told myself that he was in very capable hands; prayed for his speedy recovery and left the scene.  I really hope that he fares well.

My question lingered...lingers, however.  Who thinks to record an accident like that?  I mean, it's something that happens all the time.  Unfortunately.  And some people are going to record - hence the terms, iReporter and Citizen Journalists, etc.  But, in the heat of the moment, why does the thought not even occur to some of us who are social media users with our smartphones at the ready?  Why do some of us not even think to capture such a moment for posterity or sharing or sending to a media house or whatever?  Opting, instead, to behold it through no other lens than our own?  I understand that this has been an on-going debate for journalists - especially photo-journalists.  If you just happen to be there when something goes horribly wrong, do you rush to help?  Or, do you grab your camera, start recording and hope beyond hope that "someone else" will assist, while you capture a key piece for your story later on? 


I imagine that others would ask, why write about it in a blog - even days after; even as I ask my own provocative questions?

Could the answer be as simple as, "To each her own"?


Claudia
www.cyopro.com
www.twitter.com/cyopro