A few years ago, I set out to do a low-key photoshoot on a cloudy damp morning. I had packed an iron cauldron, my Witch prop, and a bunch of smoke bombs. I thought that a smoking cauldron in the foreground of the photo with a blurry Witch in the distance would be a fun image. The setup took longer than expected.
Doing this stuff for as long as I have, you'd think I would be less anxious and twitchy about trespassing to get a photo of a weird prop. Nope. In fact, I think I've gotten more uptight about it over the years. A grown man setting up a Witch, or a scarecrow, or a reaper looks odd and unusual and WIERD. And suspicious.
So, I set up the Witch and her cauldron behind a construction company and began lighting smoke bombs. These things only burn about six quick seconds, so I would get about three shots with each bomb. Turns out the smoke was visible from a nearby road. As I snapped away in the sulfurous, brightly-colored smoke, I heard a voice come from behind, "What exactly are you doing?" It was a police officer.
I was impressed I hadn't heard his car pull into the parking lot behind mine. And definitely shocked I didn't hear him approach on foot (disappointed in my previously-mentioned twitchiness). I stood up as the smoke bomb hissed out the last of the blueish smoke. I explained I had an odd hobby, and I was taking some shots of a prop I made. I would imagine I sounded like Don Knotts at this point, trying to explain what exactly I was doing.
I scrolled through photos on my phone showing him the photos I just took, and earlier ones of other photoshoots. The officer seemed really interested and told me that he had a hobby taking photos of architecture. Said he does it on the weekends to keep sane. I told him I would leave and he said for me to take my time. As he was pulling away, I snapped a photo.