Discovering the photography of Saul Leiter

I’ve always gravitated towards two main styles of street and documentary photography:

1. Black and white photographs that use light and shadow to create silhouettes and interesting shapes with a tendency towards minimalist composition.
2. Abstract colour street photographs that include lots of saturation and unexpected compositions that are intentionally a bit confusing.

For the former, the photographers who have had the biggest impact on me are Henri Cartier-Bresson and Fan Ho, both masters of intentional framing and the use of available light.

For the latter, I often turn to Alex Webb whose photography I adore. There’s something irresistible about the vibrant blocks of colour and the sense of surrealism in his photos.

I’d always assumed Alex Webb was one of the first photographers to use colour film and shoot street/documentary in this abstract style. Needless to say, I had my mind blown when I came across this video by Imitative Photography on YouTube introducing viewers to Saul Leiter who was shooting in this style in the 40s and 50s.

I don’t think I’ve ever found a favourite photographer quite so fast. Leiter’s photographs are everything I love about abstract street photography: vibrant colours, minimalism and a sense of space, odd and unique out-of-frame compositions, obscured faces and sometimes no people in the frame at all, layering, reflections, depictions of winter wonderlands (I’m sure my fascination with this is a byproduct of growing up in the heat of Western Australia), and always finding beauty within the mundane. It comes as no surprise that Leiter was also a painter: his use of colours and unique compositions in his photography are visibly influenced by abstract and impressionist style painting.

I’m in love with street photography that conveys a sense of the spaces people inhabit and the traces of the people that inhabit them, without always focusing on the people themselves. I could look at Leiter’s photographs for hours-in fact, I have been over the last couple of days. I’m still not sure how Leiter’s work flew under my radar-surely the photographers I follow point to Leiter as a source of inspiration and education. But I suppose that sometimes in life you encounter things at precisely the right moment for them to have the most impact on you.

In devouring all of Leiter’s work to make up for lost time, I also watched the documentary made about him, ‘ In No Great Hurry’, directed by Tomas Leach and co-produced by Margit Erb who is the director of the Saul Leiter Foundation. The documentary wasn’t what I expected, focusing less on Leiter’s photography and more on Saul Leiter as a person. But it was full of heart and showed what a humble and honest man he was, which clearly came through in his art. I’m glad his photography is out there in the world where it deserves to be.

There are now many modern street photographers whose work leans towards a similar style to Leiter’s. Some of my favourites are Joshua K. Jackson, Stuart Paton, David Sark, Victor Djaja, and Ulysses Aoki.

Discovering Leiter’s work has made me think about my own work once again. I’m considering trying longer lenses for street photos, and it’s brought up the old internal monologue of the definition of ‘street photography’ and whether a street photo can be one that doesn’t include people (spoiler alert: it can!). Now that I have another foundational example to point to when I make this case, I feel even better about it.

It also made me realise something. While I would much prefer photographing a snowy scene with people bundled up in winter coats and scarves-because, to my eye, that makes a more interesting and aesthetically pleasing street photo-I live in a predominantly sunny place where that’s just not realistic. Instead, I should be photographing what makes my environment and the people within it unique. I should use my environment to my advantage. And, like Leiter, I’m more inclined to shoot the same locations over and over again while looking for the interesting moments in the sameness of the everyday. So instead of fighting against my own instincts and disposition, it’s time to turn that into a quality that makes my own art unique.

Originally published at https://rianfloyd.com on August 6, 2023.