My photos are frequently rushed and taken from peculiar angles. The great Robert Capa would tell me I’m not getting close enough. Can some intensive coaching help me to raise my game?

It’s a Sunday morning and I’m on Rue Mouffetard, a bustling market street in Paris, skulking behind a pyramid of nectarines. My sights are set on a fluffy black poodle nuzzling the ankles of its owner, a stripey-trousered woman of a certain age.

Raising my camera to my eye, I risk a few furtive shots but, irritatingly, the poodle keeps scampering out of the frame. Its mistress is engaged in animated banter with a guy tending a rack of roast chickens. Promising. But, spying the camera, he throws his hands in front of his face.

This is the trouble with street photography. Like many amateur camera operators, I’m a fan of the genre and the vintage work of stars such as Saul Leiter and Elliott Erwitt. But the logistics are challenging. Since buying my first DSLR a few years ago, I have spent many hours pacing the streets of London in search of inspiration. People tend not to like a total stranger following them around taking photos of them and, as I am acutely aware of this, my compositions are frequently rushed and taken from peculiar angles. Magnum photographer Robert Capa’s adage, “If your photos aren’t good enough, you’re not close enough,” certainly applied to me, but I had no idea how to overcome it.

Then, one day, inspiration struck. I was listening to the photography podcast Hit the Streets when I heard its host, Valérie Jardin, mention upcoming workshops in Paris. These sounded like exactly what I needed. Now I’m here, I’m not so sure.

“Remember, you’re not doing anything wrong,” Jardin, an energetic Frenchwoman, had told me. “You’re documenting life on the street, which is important. It’s best to start with a busy, touristy area where everyone has a camera. You’ll feel more invisible. Not only is a lot happening, with plenty to catch your eye, but you’ll be more at ease because of the crowd.”

The trouble is, that morning I’m not feeling remotely at ease. “If you’re nervous about going in close to people with your camera, photograph dogs – owners are always so proud of them,” Jardin had suggested. “Compliment the dog and then you can work your way up to asking for a photo of its owner, too.” I snap the poodle again. The poodle looks confused. Its owner gives me a look that doesn’t encourage me to ask if she would like to be photographed.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Start with a poodle, then work your way up. Photograph: Anita Chaudhury/The Guardian

We had begun the workshop by going through some of Jardin’s work: highly stylised images of impeccably dressed people with a strong emphasis on dramatic natural light and silhouettes. Within minutes, my creative lethargy dissipated. It hadn’t occurred to me before, but much of contemporary street photography and the way it is taught has a kind of “Gotcha!” sensibility, where the onus is on viewing subjects as victims. Jardin’s beautiful photos, while still obviously “street”, have a different quality. They are photos you might want to hang on your wall rather than expect to see in the pages of a tabloid – a far cry from the in-your-face quality seen in the work of star snappers such as Bruce Gilden, Martin Parr and Dougie Wallace.

“I’m more and more resistant to calling myself a street photographer,” Jardin had confided. “I’m recording life’s beautiful moments, ordinary moments that become extraordinary when you freeze them in time. Street photography is one of the most difficult genres to master. You have no control over what other people are going to do, only control over your gear and your vision. There’s a lot of luck involved, but without vision, luck doesn’t matter.”

When Jardin takes me on to the streets, the biggest surprise is observing the simplicity of her camera settings. I suppose I had imagined there was some secret shutter-speed formula that would render light beautifully, if only someone would share it with me. In fact, she scarcely bothers with manual mode. Instead, her laser-like attention is on the people around her, and on the light.

“I never bring the camera to my eye; it’s all done here,” she says, tapping the LCD screen of her black-and-silver Fujifilm X100F. I would never have tried what the experts call “shooting from the hip” if I had been on my own, believing it was beyond me. But my coach is confident I can do it. “The trick is to always shoot at the same focal length; in time your eye will know exactly what you’re going to get before you even press the shutter.”

Several shots of cobblestones and a dog’s front paws later, I’m getting the hang of it. One thing is for sure: people are a lot less bothered by my presence without a camera at my eye. I sneak a glance at a woman engrossed in Le Journal du Dimanche and press the button. Now that I’ve turned off my camera’s beeps, as suggested, things are a lot easier. I relax and start to have fun. “I like the humour in your work,” declares Jardin, when we review our images. “Keep at it – I think you will get there.” I’m not even sure where “there” is, but I feel 10ft tall.

Back home, I resolve to be bolder about the photos I take. But despite following Jardin’s advice to practise a different technique every day (silhouettes one day, panning the next), the discipline quickly becomes aimless and I feel deflated. Why am I doing this?

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Jardin says: ‘If you’re going to shoot people from the back, it has to be super-interesting.’ Photograph: Anita Chaudhury/The Guardian

Jardin agrees to give me some Skype coaching. During our first session she says I’m facing a common problem. “If you go aimlessly into town with your camera, you’re just going to get the same bunch of average shots of the same boring thing. What you want is a project that you can do anywhere, even if you’re travelling or the weather is bad.” Jardin has several such projects on the go, including people looking at modern art, beautiful smiles of strangers and hands. “The subject itself doesn’t matter, but it should be something that you’re naturally drawn to, so that you keep going with it.”

She is also keen to impress upon me that the scattergun approach I had been adopting wasn’t likely to get the best results. “Be discerning – don’t settle!” This was one of the benefits of having worked on the street directly with her; it soon became apparent that 95% of her time is spent observing and predicting people’s behaviour. Being discerning about pressing the shutter is a skill I needed to learn.

Suitably inspired, I choose two subject areas that I’m always drawn to: London shoppers and reflections. Jardin books me in for a follow-up session so she can assess what I’ve been up to. I must admit, this accountability in itself makes a huge difference. Just as I am slacking off on the whole thing, up pops a message from her: “How’s the project going?” That is enough to get me moving again.

Over the course of a month, I assemble two albums and then narrow them down to five photos each. Some are new, some are images I had previously taken that fitted the theme. This is another thing I learned from Jardin – photography isn’t just about taking photos. You want to create a body of work by editing your images and grouping them together in a meaningful collection. Like a lot of people, I take loads of photos and then do nothing with them.

At our final critique session, I must confess that I’m a little nervous. There is a particular mortification associated with presenting a photo to an expert and awaiting feedback. Whatever genre you favour, quite a lot can go awry with an image. Certainly, Jardin is robust in her observations about how each of my shots could be improved and is quick to pick up on recurring technical errors and bad habits. “If you’re going to shoot people from the back, it has to be super-interesting. Far better to run ahead of people and catch them from the front further up the street.” And: “Again, you’ve shown too much detail of the surrounding buildings. I wish you’d gone in closer to your subject. If you can’t bear to do that, then get a longer lens.”

But she is also warm-hearted and generous with her praise.

“I love, love, love the man outside the shop with the bag. He looks as still as the mannequins in the store. And the Café Rouge one, it’s my favourite. I love the interconnection between the human element and the backdrop. Bus, red building, red coat. That shows you visualised the strongest possible subject and then you were patient.”

Facebook Twitter Pinterest One that Jardin liked: ‘I love the interconnection between the human element and the backdrop.’ Photograph: Anita Chaudhury/The Guardian

She even goes so far as to suggest I enter some shots to a photo competition, something I would never have thought about doing. She also puts things into perspective: “You should be really happy to have got so many good shots. Many street photographers believe a strike rate of one in 100 is good going.”

Ultimately, having a professional scrutinise both my work and my working methods has been a revelation. It has made me stop dwelling on the skills I lack (such as photographing anything that is moving faster than a snail). Instead, I’ve started to appreciate what is unique about my photos: colour, drama, texture; things I would never have noticed on my own.

Most significant of all about working with a creative coach is that, because they take you seriously, you start taking yourself seriously. I now print my photos and have produced cards using the images. I’m also going to start a photography foundation course in 2019, something I previously lacked the confidence to pursue. Who knows, I might even start a project about dogs and their owners.

Valérie Jardin is the author of Street Photography: Creative Vision Behind the Lens. Her workshops are at valeriejardinphotography.com