An Evening of Photojournalism

I've been told more than a few times that, often, my style of photography tends to be editorial bordering on journalistic. I've been trying to embrace that idea recently and have been making more of an effort to capture events and scenes with that in mind. Last Saturday night I made a foray into a  local religious celebration / street fair event with the idea of documenting it as well as possible while still maintaining my own style of shooting.

Close-up of the fireworks with the growing
crowd along the street in the background.

The event was a religious feast in nearby Gżira. I went out primarily to shoot the fireworks I knew would happen during the evening but I misjudged the timing and had to wait three and a half hours for the fireworks I wanted. During that time, I figured I would make use of my time by shooting other aspects of the event. I not a fan of crowds, noise or commotion so I was definitely not in my element as the numbers swelled along the seafront in anticipation of the party.




The surrounding streets were hung with banners so I decided to venture off of the street I drove daily and see what else was out there. I walked up a side street I had never been on before and about two blocks from the main road, the world changed. Gone was the traffic, the honking and the crowds of tourists. Before me was a life-sized statue on a sedan-chair type platform holding a sword, shield and bearing a Maltese flag and a band playing on the church square with maybe a hundred people watching, both seated and milling about. There was plenty of room to move around and the event felt relaxed. Locals stood on their balconies and engaged passersby whom they knew. The atmosphere was festive. It felt very local yet I didn't feel like an outsider. I moved around with the seeming invisibility that any decent event photographer cultivates by their second event. In the hour and a half or so that I was there, I became very familiar with the various people in the crowd as we all moved around the square waiting for the procession to begin.

The band wait to begin the procession.

The band was quite good as were the singers. The church was open which was nice as they are usually only open for services and are typically difficult to visit otherwise. The humid air was still and hot in the little square but no one seemed to mind. I wandered around and took it all in.

After an hour and a half of loitering around waiting for something to happen, a group of policeman arrived and started clearing the street and the band moved from the piazza to the road. Hoping for some good shots, I boldly moved around like I owned the place. When you're toting a stupid big camera and lens with more gear strapped to your body it's like having a press pass often times as no one even questions what you do or where you go.


I proceeded to not only document my surroundings but, as the group of young men lifted the statue of the saint into the air for the procession, I was right beside them and found myself swept up in the action. A river of people now poured from the buildings and side streets to walk along with the marching band and the sword-wielding, life-sized statue adorned with the Maltese flag as it tottered through the air on a litter carried by the group of boys.

The statue was hoisted and the show was on

I walked and snapped unsure if I was really getting anything worthwhile. At the bottom of the hill, the police stopped traffic along the waterfront and the procession made the wide corner onto the main road. I decide I had the fist of it and turned my attention to the waiting fireworks across the road. The carnival atmosphere continued as the now closed road became gorged with locals and tourists alike out on a hot, summer evening to enjoy the festa.

I shot for a while and then proceeded to grab a table at a sidewalk kiosk for a quick pint of Cisk, the local lager, and a little people-watching. Some other passers-by asked to share my table and all of a sudden it was a party as a young Romanian family and some of their friends sat, smoked and downed Cisk, pulling chairs and tables for other places to accommodate the group. They were very polite to me all the while but I felt increasingly out of place and once I finished my beer, headed off for more photo ops. 

 

 

After what seemed like hours, the first fireworks began. I got into position and tried to capture the crowd. I was looking more for the feeling than the action and luckily, I was capturing both. I checked my settings time and time again to make sure I had everything right. I shot manual to make sure there were no surprises. I appreciate my magnificent little computer in a camera but sometimes you gotta go with your gut.

In the end, I got far more than I had hoped. I went for photos and I got a taste of local culture that I had not previously experienced and had a good time doing it. I hear there's an even larger festa in Qormi this weekend... I wonder where I'll park...

The money shot.