Anecdotally.
Hrm. Saying anything new at this point is probably moot and unlikely. But this discussion intrigues me, having read every post (the Q.G.'s ignored-blocked posts notwithstanding).
Something came up on Canada Day when my friend was celebrating her birthday at a lunch in an indoor restaurant. On this long table of about 18 people, I was sitting at one end when I noticed some guy at the other end pulling out a Nikon DSLR with a 300mm (maybe it was the 400mm, either way, it was an expensive toy) Nikkor AF telephoto and SB-x00 speedlight and started shooting at our end of the table. He did not know that as a photographer, I do not actually enjoy being photographed unless A) a basis of trust and mutual respect is already established; B) I am in a public space (this would exclude privately-owned spaces where the public may congregate, such as a shopping mall, or a restaurant); C) I express consent on the spot; or D) I am at the site of a news-making event (which has happened a couple of times).
His background, I later learnt, was being a concert photog and a paparazzi-style kind of guy. My friend met him years before at a concert.
At first, I looked at him and pulled out from my bag my Pentax 645 with the 150mm lens and hood (I carry around at least one film camera at all times, and on this day, it was the 645, anticipating I was going shooting in a municipal park later on), in the sense that seeing me through his viewfinder a very displeased woman holding a somewhat imposing camera and staring right at him, aiming said camera at him wasn't enough to stand down for a sec and ask, "What?"
Then the food arrived. Instead of sitting down to eat with everyone, he gets up from his chair and starts shooting us as we're all taking our first bites. At this point, he finally noticed that I was making direct eye contact with him and that I appeared very unhappy. I said, clear across the table, "Please stop now."
He got cocky, and the tone of his voice embodied that. "Stop? What, are you speaking for everyone at this table?"
I replied, "No. I am speaking on behalf of myself."
He looked peeved and gave this angry grin that brightly translated to, "Heh, who is this photog bitch in red telling me to put down my camera?"
My friend understood why I was upset and got up to speak with him, as he invited himself to play the "pro photog" at her birthday lunch. Apparently, his feelings were hurt, she explained, and he put the camera away. She said he meant no harm, although given his reaction, I expressed my doubt to her. I said to my friend that it was annoying to begin with, and added that he had no way of knowing that I do not like being photographed in private spaces without consent. But, I added, once our food arrived, his etiquette went from being annoying to boorish and discourteous and that the line of common regard the lowest common denominator of civil respect had been crossed.
Afterwards, I had planned to sit and have a defusing discussion with him, photographer-to-photographer (although that he was using a cutesy little Nikon D300, I would call him a prosuming digital imager) and to smooth out the ripples that had transpired earlier. My main point was going to be that in a literal sense, he was shooting because he felt it was his right and something he was elsewhere quite accustomed to. My refusal to grant consent in a private space, around someone whose purpose for shooting was particularly ambiguous and aggressive, failed to consider that reality is less an either/or affair and as such, a photographer should be gauged on a case-by-case basis to adapt to the situation. In other words, he would have profited from recognizing and adjusting accordingly to nuance.
Instead, he made a quick beeline for the side exit and slipped out with nary a sound before the meal was completed. I thought this was unfortunate, because a civil conversation, ex post facto, would have proved more productive than strained shouting across a loud, long, convivial table. On the other hand, had his reaction been far more aggressive, and had he proceeded to escalate the frequency of shooting me at the other end of the table (what I would have considered an act of non-consensual, non-civil aggression), I was pretty much ready to use my 645 body to destroy his adorable long telephoto, which seriously looked like overcompensation for something he lacked on his person.
And I do know I would have done so had he gotten out of hand instead of standing down. I am grateful it did not devolve into that, as it is something I've never had to do.
