Three days in the souks of Marrakesh. Great, narrow, bustling
channels. Often I am lost. Sometimes panicked, I find myself in my
wandering away from the tourist trails, stared at and spoken about in
hushed tones. At times I am angrily redirected back into the markets,
at others I am taken by the hand and pulled further still from the trail.
The souks are extraordinarily dark, disorientating, yet through holes in
the ramshackle roofs pour blazing shafts of sunlight - on the surface of
it I have found the most perfect place to photograph. There are mad
laughing traders, motorbikes and dying donkeys, beggars and tourists,
salesmen and con artists - it is rich with life all pushed and gathered
into channels no more than 9 feet wide. The trick is to stand quietly
and wait for things to happen.
However, as the days wear on it becomes clear that Marrakesh will
reward only the most persistent of photographers. I am shouted at,
harangued and harassed. It is soon clear the images here are either
to be bought or stolen - I try both and both become quickly exhausting.
Where I have come to depend on being inconspicuous I am instead an
obvious outsider. After seeing me for the tenth or eleventh time traders
are genuinely angry at me, taking relish in lecturing at me about the
evils of photography. I am endlessly arguing in French.
Almost all of the photographs are taken surreptitiously - taken from the
hip. I have to judge the light levels as the camera can't be trusted.
Often I have got it wrong, the attrition rate is high. Some of the
photographs are just on the cusp of clarity.
I have some favourites: the beggar's hand and bowl, the young girl
smiling to her right. The sweetest photograph is of a little boy at night.
My camera was mounted on a tripod, fascinated he stood in front of
me. He begged me to take his picture, I did. I showed him and he
collapsed with joy. It was the loveliest moment, the first real connection.
It lasted one minute. A older boy came over, shouting at me. Again I
found myself arguing in French, handing over money.
I hope you enjoy the photographs, I worked hard for them.