The Secret of Invisibility

Harry Potter had the Cloak of Invisibility, one of the fabled Deathly Hallows, which magically rendered the wearer invisible. Passed down from generation to generation until it reached the young wizard, it was a most highly-coveted artefact.

They needn't have bothered. I tell you, there is a much simpler way to render oneself invisible...hang a camera around your neck. To activate its mystical power, simply raise the camera to your eye and before you can say "bedazzling hex", you disappear from the view of all who surround you.

It happens almost everywhere, at events, at places of natural beauty, at tourist hot spots, but it would seem that nowhere is this power to vanish ever more potent than at a car show. I know this because I have tested it repeatedly for many years. And I can guarantee that once that camera is lifted to my eye, I no longer remain in the visible light spectrum. People meander casually across my field of view without the slightest concern for me, my camera, and the subject upon which it is focused because for all intents and purposes, I am not there. Surely they can't all be simply that ignorant or rude, so I must surmise it must be that they can't see me.

Have you ever wondered why car photographers take so many close detail shots of cars? It's because this invisibility often makes it impossible to take a full shot of a vehicle.

Of course, it's true that a classic automobile has much to admire incorporated into their design. Many are rolling works of art, and some are masterpieces. They certainly warrant having their creative flourishes focused upon and bought to the attention of those who may only see a large piece of metal and glass atop four rubber rings. So willingly capturing close up images to celebrate strokes of design genius is a means of doing this.

But frustratingly, these shots are often what we are limited to once the crowds arrive and begin to obstruct wide shots. Actually, it doesn't even need to be a crowd of spectators. I have been at shows where there are relatively few punters admiring the cars on display, but even then, if I stand in one place, or drop to one knee, camera to eye, someone will immediately wander over and stand in frame. Better still, they will lean over into the car window or under the hood for a closer look. Or they will come with an accomplice or two, surround the car and embark upon a long discourse with each other about its merits (or lack thereof.)

And at the risk of sounding petulant, it's not just their physical form that manages to get in the way. Often they stand just out of frame casting shadows across the car. I know that I can't expect everyone to see and think as a photographer, but by now I am frustrated to the point of not being able to make such rational considerations. It's like that scene from "The Truman Show"' in which the omnipresent director instructs the players to thwart Jim Carrey's every move.

Over the years one develops a few evolutionary improvements to adapt to the situation: the ability to hold a position for minutes, statue-like, waiting for the fleeting moment that the view is unobscured; sharpened peripheral vision, tracking bodies sauntering into view from left and right; heightened light sensitivity, sensing approaching shadows; above all, the patience of Job (and if that wears thin, the capacity to sigh in frustration at impressively high decibels.)

But unlike Harry's cloak, there appears to exist rare individuals who are immune to the spell. They occasionally shock me when I am frozen in position waiting for the golden opportunity when the view is clear of spare bodies. In the periphery of my vision, all of a sudden a figure will stop moving towards me. Sometimes, they will loudly admonish someone they are walking with with a "Careful, let this guy take his photo!", perhaps even extending an arm like a boom gate for extra effect. This extra moment or two of grace is usually all I need to squeeze off a couple of shots, with almost a sense of elation. I don't expect the world to stop for me so that I can practise my art, but a few seconds of simple courtesy like that surely can't hurt?

I look up and they are usually regarding at me with an air of absolute benevolence...or that may just be my sheer gratitude for their attention and charity. Either way, it is a shining moment in what is often a frustrating and disheartening undertaking, and I thank them like a drowning man might thank the lifesaver who drags him from the water. Sometimes I sense their benevolence turning to pity.

Does all of this stop me from venturing out to these events? Nope. For all the disruption, it tests my adaptability, sharpens my eye, and I come away with images that capture the magic of motoring design. I may often be unseen, but I am also nothing if not hopeful.

To help you understand, check out these few examples from our last local Cars and Coffee event at Erina. In each instance, I was poised to shoot, yet punters intruded, hung around, or were immediately replaced by others, forcing me to reassess the shot.

At least at Erina, when the going gets tough, I can can wander over to The Tame Fox for a great coffee and a bite to eat. Thankfully there, they can see me.