Le Regard: The Art of the Gaze

The Paris Vignettes series features the inspired work of street photographer William “Bill” O’Such in themed installments

During my photo session with Nijat, the founder of Street Photography France, one particular astuce (tip) he shared was the importance of the “gaze.” Capturing someone looking at you — or intently at something else — adds a layer of narrative and depth that a candid shot sometimes lacks. For several weeks following our master class, I kept my eyes peeled for these fleeting moments of connection.

While walking through a nearby park, I spotted an artist carefully observing a bench. Her rhythmic look back and forth between her subject and her canvas became a beautiful, live “diptych” (“artiste dans un parc”). Further north in Le Marais, I noticed two mannequins outside a gym. I decided to linger there, waiting for a human element to bridge the gap. Just as I was about to give up, a passerby gave them a lingering, curious glance (“les choix”). Keeping my mind open as I headed home, I even caught a group of well-dressed young men in the midst of setting up a stylish pop-up store (“fashion dans le marais”).

Moments of Engagement

The next day, while showing Le Marais to a good friend near Le Carreau du Temple, the owner of a small pizzeria struck up a long conversation. He passionately shared his views on the local restaurant scene, insisting — with great pride — that his was the best pizza in the area (“meilleur pizza dans le Marais”). I’ll definitely need to go back and test that claim.

On another afternoon, as I headed toward Batignolles, a couple on a rental scooter caught my eye and glanced directly into the lens (“eux go”). It is truly amazing that once you start looking for the gaze, you realize how many people are noticing you in return. I’m not sure if it’s the classic look of my Fuji camera or something else, but there seems to be a newfound frequency of engagement.

The Patience of the Hunt

The encounters continued across the city. Up in Batignolles, as I turned a corner, I found a gentleman delivering wood to a local café, his focus entirely on the heavy task at hand (“livraison”). Later, meeting a friend from San Francisco in the 15th arrondissement, I spotted a person decked out in head-to-toe reflective wear (“scintillant”), standing patiently on a corner as if waiting for the world to notice him.

Even nature got in on the act; near the Petit Palais, I caught a bird perched near a park bench, seemingly “people-watching” a couple just as intently as I was (“l’oiseau les regard aussi”).

After these adventures, the most vital lesson I’ve learned is that you cannot rush the story. You have to wait for the moment to reveal itself, rather than just snapping away — much like a fellow unknown street photographer I observed on Rue de Buci, perfectly still in the middle of the bustle (“l’attente d’un photograph”).