Back in the 1980s, while I was working as a reporter and photographer, the Southampton Press regularly published a column entitled The Press Box. It contained the musings and ramblings of various staff members. This is one of my contributions.
Ever notice how people change when you point a camera in their direction? Not everyone, but most people undergo a strange metamorphosis when they see someone taking their picture.
It’s true. The most gregarious suddenly become shy and hide behind anything available. I’ve long since lost count of the times people have turned their back on me suddenly, and I don’t think it has anything to do with my deodorant.
Being a staff photographer for this newspaper, I have to take a lot of pictures in a lot of different circumstances, and the behavior of regular folk when suddenly confronted by a camera, never ceases to surprise me. Take, for example, the woman who saw me pointing a lens in her direction last summer and went and locked herself in her car. At a loss as to what to do then, she pulled out her auto users manual and buried her nose in it.
Then there is a man I know in Sag Harbor. He is one of the most pleasant guys I know and it shoes on his face. Well, I had to take his picture in the line of duty not too long ago and he suddenly got this sickly, plastic smile on his face.
Despite a lot of coaxing on my part he wouldn’t change and when the prints came out, sure enough, he looked like someone else entirely. He wasn’t happy, I wasn’t happy and my editor wasn’t happy because I had to go back and reshoot the photo. And then the final result was pretty much the same.
Considering the number of mirrors sold every day, I wonder at the fact that few people actually know what they look like. The invariably take a look at a print or their photo in the paper and ask “is that really how I look?” Or they say something like “your camera makes me look 15 pounds heavier” or “I look terrible in that shot.” This is usually after they had spent 10 minutes primping before I even got a chance to trip the shutter.
But its the personality change that intrigues me the most. Most people fit into the shy category. They casually turn their backs and walk away or stand behind a pillar, a tree, a clothing rack or anything they can find to put between them and my camera. But some think they are on television.
One elegantly dressed woman at a benefit party suddenly came alive when I asked to take her picture. She had been standing off to the side, watching the party with a bored, wish I were 100 miles away look on her face. It was just the image I wanted to capture to counterpoint the swirling activity of the event. So I composed my shot.
She saw me, so I identified myself and asked if I might take her picture. She suddenly became the life of the party, calling friends over, smiling up a storm and talking as though she thought I was the six o’clock news. Naturally the picture I wanted had gone out the window.
Then there was an elderly fellow I was assigned to shoot. He was bald and had the gentlest smile, a smile that reflected a lot of hard years, but indicated that he’d come to terms with life through a good sense of humor. So I set him up for head and shoulders shot and as soon as I got behind the camera he flashed this big, toothy grin. I cringed. When I saw the proofs, I more than cringed. He’d come out looking like a Halloween Jack ‘O Lantern.
Group shots are the most interesting. When there are four of five people they tend to give each other moral support. They almost invariably put on expressions that say “I’m really hating this but if you must, go ahead.” A lot of group shots I do look as if I’m taking the picture in a dentist’s office from the pained looks that the subjects produce.
There are a few people though, who at ease or to blossom before the unblinking eye of the camera. I’ve shot people who look very ordinary, and even dull, but who come alive in pictures. I guess they are the exception that proves the rule.
And then there are kids. Children haven’t yet gotten bogged down by the daily routines of life. To them, every day is still an adventure. They usually regard me and my camera with suspicion for a few minutes then they forget about me and go on about the business of living a kid’s life. They make great subjects for pictures. No hangups, no fussing with their hair, no hiding in their car, no false, plastic smiles; just themselves.
What’s that? You have to take my picture for the new press cards? No way. Not me. You get that camera out of here. I don’t like to have my picture taken. Go on, go away. Leave me alone or I’ll lock myself in the bathroom. Get outta here!