People in pictures

My photography efforts have sometimes been criticized for their lack of human subjects, which many consider to bring life and interest to pictures.

Actually, my husband is a frequent subject in my photos, however reluctantly he poses. Since he is usually the only one around, he ends up in front of my lens rather often, poor guy. He’s even usually nice about it – which is more than I deserve since I have quite a knack for catching people with their eyes closed and their mouths open – forever frozen in time as they really don’t mean to be.

I have to say, though, that there seems to me to be some justified ‘symmetry’ to the world in this. The images that have captured me throughout my life have always been hilarious. In a not very flattering way, of course. I have a ridiculous smile in the first place and subtlety has never been my strong suit when it comes to facial expressions. I cannot look mysterious or aloof or pouty or sexy or even, possibly, just friendly in a picture. Instead I always look slightly crazed.

Some years ago my family put together a video collection of family pictures for my parents’ 50th wedding anniversary celebration. Fortunately we were a family of 6 (by then expanded to 25 maybe, give or take a few of the younger ones) so no one person bore a burden of overexposure on the video. But certainly every time my picture showed up it was cause for laughter. There was my oldest sister in her elegant ballet costume with her arms ‘en couronne’ – gracefully curved upward, in ballet-speak. And my second sister in a fetching hula garb with appropriate and equally graceful gestures. And me, also in a tutu (not wanting to be left out but too young for summer recreation opportunities) standing there with my arms on my hips, flat-footed, my short, always rod-straight hair hanging over my funny little face with that silly grin.

But it was the group photos in the collection that really showed the aberration – everyone else looking appropriately at the puppy or Christmas tree or whatever, but me with my head at a slightly weird angle, straining (obviously, for what else could be the origin of that look?) to be seen by the camera as appropriately posed and happy but, also obviously, translating that intent into something not quite what it should be…

School pictures, however, were the best (worst?) Not always the most flattering to even the most photogenic, school pictures do at least end up showing the progression of growth and maturity – except for me. The best that can be said of my collection of school pictures is that they all – and there is no question about this – look like me. My mother’s attempts at putting some curls into my straight hair resulted in corkscrew knobs over each ear that Pippi Longstocking would have been proud of. And that ridiculous grin is present in each and every picture.



(I am, of course, publishing the picture for my mother’s benefit. "Only a mother could love...")

To my sister – and this was the original point I was going to make and never actually got around to – the picture I took of you in front of the lighthouse when you were here? You’re probably not going to like it. Your eyes are closed and you are in the middle of saying something…