Seeing What Others Don't
On Jeremy Paige's Photography (@eatenbyflowers)
This is the first Jeremy Paige photo I saw:
I was captivated by the serendipity of it all. It’s incredibly simple, but it’s perfect. At first, I figured he spotted the installation, had the idea for the photo, and spent a long time waiting for everything to align, but recently, I heard him speak on Walkie Talkie, about how he rarely waits for photos, but rather takes advantage of what he sees.
Opening my eyes to his world of photography was particularly interesting because we shoot in incredibly different ways. I didn’t know this, but most of his body of work has been taken on Hollywood Boulevard in LA. While it’s common for photographers to have more photos of a particular city or area, I don’t know of many who almost exclusively photograph one street.
This leads to a palpable comfort and familiarity in his photography. He doesn’t have to think about where to go, or how to photograph. I think it also ties in to his thoughts on not waiting for a photo, he doesn’t have to because he subconsciously knows the backdrop, and therefore it becomes easier to spot anomalies and intriguing things.
It’s impossible to talk about Paige's photography without touching the surrounding ethics. The laws around photographing and publishing photos of strangers are drastically different in the United States and Europe. From my understanding (and correct me if I’m wrong), in the US, you can take and publish a picture of anyone if they are in a public setting. On the other hand, in the EU, you can not. In fact, you have to be fairly careful about what you upload. This has shaped trends in Europe, where the focus tends to be on shadows and blurred faces, whereas in the US, there is a stronger pull towards photographing people.
Aside from the legal aspects, there is the moral one. Just because it’s legal to photograph people showing clearly who they are in the US, it is ethical to do so? Where is the line? Children? People who are crying? It’s interesting that the decision is left at the discretion of the photographer. Everyone has it in their power to set their own limits, and determine how much of a person’s privacy they are willing to violate — how far they’re willing to go.
Paige is willing to go far.
When reflecting on this particular photo, he admitted he had debated whether to publish it, but ultimately did because, as he put it, “it’s a compulsion.”
He says that now he tries to shy away from photographing people in vulnerable states, but yet keeps them on the front page of his website as some of his most popular images. I’ve spent years conflicted about the whole ethics of street photography, so I won’t go too deep into that today, but I do think that it’s a shame that these images are the ones that he is the most known for. A lot of his other work holds a lot more nuance, and in my opinion requires a lot more skill and vision than capitalizing on someone’s vulnerability.
These are some of my favorites:
What stands out to me about these images is the slight humor of them, the understanding that they couldn’t really be taken by someone who doesn’t deeply know and understand the surroundings in which they were taken. I admire that these photos are the antithesis of what I would think happens if you shoot the same exact place over and over. Paige doesn’t create the same image time and time again, instead he uses the same backdrop to tell hundreds of different stories about the people of LA.
The fact that they are taken in Hollywood also stands out to me. As someone who has never been there, they have a whimsical glamour that I can only associate with the “city of stars.” And yet, I like how Paige plays with that juxtaposition, like in that last Marylyn Monroe photo or the one of the green truck.
In truth, Paige’s body of work is, at its core, a long and layered portrait of Hollywood and its characters. The subject becomes less about the individuals he photographs and more about the space they occupy. It’s not about novelty, but about knowing a place well enough to notice when something is off, or funny, or quietly striking. That’s what I keep coming back to. Not the shock or drama of certain images, but the quieter ones, the ones that could only exist because someone kept showing up, eyes open, and eager to explore.
You can find more of Jeremy’s work on his website, or on Instagram.
If you’re tired of listening to people talk about the Bad Bunny album, I’m sorry, but I wrote a very detailed recap of it for Gen Admission last month, and you should go read it.
If you speak/read Spanish, I love the way
wrote about it on her Substack a while ago.
Also for the Spanish speakers,
recently revamped her newsletter. Pasame La Sal is about cooking and culture, she dives deep into Ecuadorian flavors and histories, and is overall a fun person to read. I quite like her article on Ají.From the commute (a new occasional segment about notable headphone material):
The Mamma Mia Soundtrack: yes, we all love it already, but sometimes I forget just how much.
This terrifying What it Was Like, podcast episode about Scammer farms.
The Daily (by the NYT), published a scary episode about the Trump administration and the way it’s influencing law firms in the US.
Let me know your thoughts!
Until next time,
S
Love reading this! I've never heard of Jeremy Paige, but I'll check out more of his work. Also love the discussion of the ethics and morals around street photography. I think because I understand how having your photo taken without your permission can make people feel uncomfortable I tend to shy away from street photography or actually if I think about it now, lean more into the European street photography style if I am out and about shooting photos.
Wonderful post! Some of these images really do look like he would have waited for them to align. The timing is just uncanny.
As for the ethics of street photography, I often wonder what happens to history if we don’t show all aspects of life. I don’t condone exploitation of anyone, but there has to be a way to respectively and accurately portray the human condition or we run the risk of revisionist history.