I was down in Cabo for a wedding last week. I brought along a camera and more lenses than I needed – as I always do – but the kit just sat there, ignored in the hotel room. I would glance at it in the morning, then shrug my shoulders and head out for another day at the pool.
Which, if you know me, is pretty unusual. I am a restless traveler. Always looking for somewhere to explore, and something to photograph. But not on this trip. I was uninspired by my surroundings. So I leaned into relaxation, telling myself to enjoy the creative break. And the mezcalitos that arrived soon after the late morning happy hour commenced.
Just hanging out with my family, chillaxin’ by the pool.
I finally picked up the camera on day 4, when we decided to wander down the beach. I was still uninspired, randomly snapping photos along the way. That’s when I made the picture at the top of this post. I wish I could say that I noticed the parasailer when I made the photograph, but I didn’t. I just wanted to photograph the gleaming white resort, crowded with umbrellas, and the DMZ between them and the few local vendors expectantly hoping to earn a few pesos if one of the guests ventured down to the beach.
I didn’t even see the parasailer until I got home and reviewed my images from the trip. But for me it encapsulates the experience. We were all just travelers parachuting in to soak up the sunshine in a hermetically sealed environment.
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I only exposed 275 frames during the entire week we were there. Typically when traveling I will make more photographs than that in a few hours. But here there were only a couple potential subjects that caught my eye. A dilapidated building with a blue door on a street corner in Cabo San Lucas. An arched sign over the entrance to an abandoned water park adjacent to the hotel zone on Medano Beach. I made time to photograph both, even pulling out the infrared camera body when making images of the latter.
But even then, I felt like an outsider. Like a parasailer gliding over town, never getting close enough to see it. I just couldn’t get comfortable photographing in Cabo. It felt like eyes were on me, questioning what I was doing and why I was pointing my camera here or there. It was mostly in my head. I’m not sure why that was, but it made it impossible to lose myself in the moment. To unlock my creativity and find a flow.
The only time that feeling went away was when we made a day trip up to Todos Santos. Maybe it was the art colony vibe of the place, but it felt more welcoming, and I was less self-conscious as I wandered the old town with my camera. And I began to see a bit more. The wind rippling across fabric strung over a marketplace. Fallen leaves in the gutter. Dilapidated buildings like the one in Cabo, but here still a part of the daily fabric of life.
All of which reminds me that photography is as much about what is behind the camera as what is in front of it. There’s always something to photograph. You only have to lose yourself, so you can see it.