One of the benefits of working as a freelance photographer is being given permission to hold my camera underneath someone’s nose without being shouted or spat at. Those magic words, “I’m shooting for (insert name of highly regarded and prestigious media organisation here), would you mind if I took a few pictures?”, alongside a broad and beguiling smile, appear to have the ability to gain you access to just about anywhere, and reveal the inner extrovert in even the most ‘Meldrew-esk’ type personalities. Add a couple of drinks to the equation and you can occasionally expect this repressed exhibitionism to regress into quite bizarre behavior.

You may also encounter times where it’s obvious that the humble folk you’re photographing have long since forgotten the novelty of being photographed and instead do everything they can to avoid your appeals for pictures. And for a very good reason. Try working in a quaint indoor market in a small city with numerous universities and colleges that all offer photography courses. Each of them turns over dozens of students each year, and most think that their original idea to photograph you whilst you struggle to make ends meet, is something you will be happy to accommodate (several time a week). You try to fit as much stock into the small space you have, with love and consideration for it’s visual appeal, and instead of buying anything, they just want to you “smile” in your “cute” stall. I was one of those students I speak of – all be it I never actually did it, however I always found these place’s intriguing, and so when I received an email asking me to shoot for a magazine in one, I jumped at the chance.

So my latest shoot was for Cardiff Life Magazine and took me into Cardiff Indoor Market, which turned 120 years old this year. Hoorah [it hasn't fallen down]! I was accompanied by a young journalist called Jennifer Geddes, who, like me, was suffering a Monday morning hangover. We exchanged pleasantries and duly created a plan of action that consisted of: speaking to 10 different stall holders. Mindful of our delicate senses and nauseous dispositions we headed straight for the fish counter. Jen leapt into action not a moment too soon as the smell of dead fish is bad enough on a normal day (later that I found out that she’s a vegetarian), and I started staking the place out for interesting things and compositions. I began by breaking my own rules by using a flashgun. An inclination to avoid it mean’s that when you need it, you’re generally not very good with it. The results were amateurish exposures that were harsh on skin tones, and it wasn’t long before it was ditched.

I’ve always liked the idea of accompanying a journalist on a job. My minds eye envisaged a fused notion of togetherness where two people on a united path of illumination harmoniously and synchronically gather information. Bonded by an innate desire for storytelling we wouldn’t need to ask the other what they’re thinking because we already know we’re thinking the same thing. And while this lofty, idealistic assumption may be true in 0.001% of cases, the reality was more like two hungover strangers trying to convince a group stall holders that taking their valuable time with questions, and souls with photographs, was a productive way to spend their morning. Without Jennifer’s polite persistence we would have got nowhere. I was absolutely no help what so ever and found the lack of time and freedom to explore unusually prohibitive. You have to be bang on the money straight from the off, and I realised my standard 30 minutes of warm up was going to be material that they may have to use. There’s no time for patience, and no patience for time-wasters, so get in there, get stuck in and set your CF card on fire.

We had done two or three stalls before we met Kal on the fruit and veg stall. And thank god for Kal. This guy was high octane personified. The enthusiasm of a police sniffer dog, the stories of an ex-prisoner of war, and gestures that make a photographer weak at the knee’s. Thank you Kal. You were a turning point for my mental attitude and I instantly felt my hangover fade into obscurity.

The following pictures are the result of stall holders preferring not to have their picture’s taken. Yes, it made life difficult, but it also encouraged me to focus on their products, and give the editors more visual content to work with.

This guy didn’t have much time but still graciously offered it to Jen, along with some of the chocolates you can see in the foreground. She loved them so if you have a sweet craving in the vicinity of the indoor market be sure to pay him a visit.

When I got home I looked at the pictures and was disappointed. Had the pictures just been for me, I’d have been thrilled with them, but I was working for a magazine that celebrates all of the good stuff in Cardiff and promotes a very positive vibe, and no-one was smiling. I was worried that the shots wouldn’t fit the brief. Thankfully when I sent them over with one hand covering my eye’s I was relieved to hear that the people over at Cardiff Life “love the photos!!” Two exclamation marks. I consider that a job well done. I guess there is something to be said for attempting to catch reality exactly as you experience it. Phew!!

Here’s how they looked in the article:

120 anniversary cardiff history holder holders indoor life market meat old stall vegetables wales year years