In 2016/7, I found out that the decades-old cafe Topolino corner-store was due to be closed. The shop had two months left. I had no choice but to spend a few days every week hanging out at the shop, making pictures of Panayiotis "Topolino" Tournas and the space he had kept.
I had just started shooting on 120mm, I was feeling out the process and medium. It was great practice, and I enjoyed discovering the machinations of both a Pentax and a Mamiya over the course of the month.
However, what I enjoyed most, and what I still love about photographing people, is the engagement I am afforded during the journey. I love that the act of photographing gifts me the possibility of interacting with strangers. I love swimming along the river of interchange with a person, hopefully garnering their trust in the first few moments of introducing myself and my intentions, navigating their energy in that time and place, allowing them to feel peaceful and at ease at the notion of a stranger photographing them, an odd interpolation into the regular scheduled program of the day to day.
Panayiotis arrived in Cape Town from Greece in his late teens or early 20s. His English is a tattered sail, but it moves the boat forward nonetheless. He'll always be saying something, talking to anyone within earshot. Initially, he was cautiously welcoming, intrigued by this guy loitering around his shop with a camera. He feigned a disinterest, but his curiosity kept him hovering about, muttering odds and ends about "almost 50 years" and "so much I have seen, so many lives have come through this place" and "its time for me to rest, I am finished with this shop."
Panayiotis was happy to be photographed, but he didn't allow the process to be undertaken without a grumble, even if just for the sake of banter. On one or two occasions, when I photographed him, I could see his eyes tear up and his checks squish up to his eyes as if to close the sluice gates. He'd present the traits of yesterday's man, unable to afford himself the chance to feel vulnerable and exposed, taking out his handkerchief to blow a nose that didn't ask to be tended to just to have a reason to also dab at the moist bags under his misty eyes. Then he'd huff and say, "no more photos today, I've had enough."
Since the shop has closed, I've seen ol' Topolino strutting along Kloof Street with the broadest smile, waving at all the local faces he has come to know over the years - he is still the Original Gentleman of Kloof Street! He has a new air about him since retiring, he's glowing and going for it.
