Street Photography in Barcelona & Sitges
I‘m sitting at home on a Friday, feeling guilty that I haven’t done anything creative in a while. I barely took any photos last weekend, and I’ve got a massive callus on my ring finger that probably needs to heal before I pick up the guitar again.
After not playing for about three years, I’m back at it again. It’s taken a few months to shake off the rust, but I’m happy to report the skills are back. The inevitable calluses mean I’ve lost all sensation in the fingertips of my left hand, which makes typing feel oddly strange—almost like someone else is doing it.
I sometimes feel like that anyway when I’m writing. Someone once said about playing music, “it’s coming through me,” and I think a lot of people feel the same about writing. I’m not entirely sure what it means for everyone, and it does sound preposterously arty, to say it out loud.
A Tortured Artist
On the other hand, other times when I’m writing, it feels like I’m just grinding it out. I get that with photography too. But if you really want to know what grinding it out feels like, pick up a musical instrument. That’s when you discover a different kind of practice—hours upon hours of mechanically repeating scales, riffs, and patterns. Once you catch the bug, it’s like a curse you carry for life.
Anyway, I’ve lost the thread again—where were we?
Barcelona or Bust
On the subject of grinding it out in photography, I spent a few days in Barcelona a couple of months ago. My friend John was heading there too, and on a whim I decided to tag along to the pick-pocketing capital of Europe since I’d never been before.
It’s a short jaunt by plane, and when I arrived it was absolutely sweltering—in other words, perfect. At the time I was deep in a coffee obsession, especially third-wave coffee. If you know, you know.
Day One: Getting Lost on Purpose
On the first day I fancied just “getting lost on purpose.” Normally I can go a bit mad planning holidays—ticking off landmark after landmark—but this time I just couldn’t be fucked. Getting lost on purpose basically means wandering a city aimlessly, hoping you don’t stray into the wrong neighbourhood and get murdered. I recommend it to anyone. Especially photographers. Sure, it can be hit and miss, but what’s the alternative? Taking the same photos as everyone else in the same spots? Maybe.
As I drifted from coffee shop to coffee shop, downing ridiculously expensive brews and stumbling through some questionable streets in a caffeinated haze, something started to dawn on me: where the fuck was I? I couldn’t tell if I’d wandered into a strange part of Barcelona or if this was just how it was, but everything seemed concrete and colourless. Colour is everything I chase in a photo, so without it I felt a bit rudderless. What was I supposed to do—start messing around with light and shadow? Doubtful.
Eventually I wound up in the Gothic Quarter and probably took far too many photos of creepy people with balloons and others getting bubbles blown in their faces—in other words, exactly what I’d been trying to avoid by “getting lost on purpose.” That pretty much wrapped up my first day in the Catalan capital.
Day Two: Sitges Escape
On the second day I met up with John, who was flying out from Liverpool. I took the train to Sitges, where he was staying, thinking it might be a welcome change from the hustle and bustle of Barcelona.
Sitges is a chilled-out seaside town about an hour from Barcelona by train. By the time I arrived, I was over-caffeinated and dehydrated, so I ended up waiting for John in an ice cream parlour, reasoning that a massive mug of sugary ice cream might either hydrate me or at least snap me out of this vicious sun-induced stupor. John showed up soon enough, and we headed to the beach—cameras and bucket and spade in hand.
I’ve never photographed on the beach before—I feel like it could go pretty wrong if you don’t play your cards right. John, of course, didn’t give a fuck and was soon clicking away with a 28mm Leica. He captured the coolest shot of a leather-skinned woman wearing these bizarre eye covers, making her look like something out of The Fly—except instead of Jeff Goldblum, it was her, and instead of a Fly, it was a Praying Mantis. A real shock to the senses.
I was too busy having my feet scorched by 40-degree sand—because, of course, I’d left my flip-flops at home. I managed a few decent shots on the beach, which was fun between dips in the sea. Later, we wandered into Sitges itself to take some photos, and it had a really cool vibe—quite quaint, a little like France. I took the train back to the hotel and somehow managed to find the full film of The Terminator on YouTube. Honestly, I’m not sure a day gets much better than that.
Day Three: Back to Barcelona
Day 3 we shot in Barcelona. We walked around and I finally saw the Sagrada Família, which I’d heard so much about—an absolutely striking building with soaring spires and intricate facades. We took some shots around there with the tourists, but it’s pretty much a hellhole of fast food places and screaming kids, so we took our leave of the place, drifting in and out of comic book shops and coffee shops.
I left John in a coffee shop while I had a sit-down in a chair with an ice cream. Someone tapped me on the back, and I turned around—there was no one there, just some guy riding past on a bike.
Anyway, we ended up in the Gothic Quarter and shot there for a while. John noticed I had paint on my back, which made it look like that tap on my back earlier had been someone tagging me for some other cave dweller to rob my camera. Make sure you take a good camera strap to Barcelona—or you’re a hard nut, or both.
It wasn’t the worst day of shooting, but John felt a similar way about the city. There’s just a certain quality about Barcelona that neither of us could quite put into words, and in our experience, it didn’t really lend itself to street photography.
While I can’t say I’d recommend it specifically for street shooters, what I can say is that it’s warm, has great coffee and pastries, and is close to the beach—so it’s definitely a good time. If you go, happy trails, and let me know if you manage to snag any good photos!
