BRIC-A-BRAC: Smile For the Birdie

I'm having to re-evaluate my whole stand on photography.

I despise pictures of myself. I don't like my smile. I don't like my hair. I always look sloppy. It never turns out at all the way I would like. So there came a point many years ago when I decided to avoid being in them. Oh sure, every now and then, I am cajoled into holding still for the camera. But I steadfastly refuse to enjoy it.

Not long after I made that decision, I found that I was also starting to turn against being behind the camera, as well. I think the reason for that is because, if you bring a camera with you, it's inevitable that you will be asked to move to the other side of it before too long. So it's pre-emptive. Don't bring a camera, you can't be photographed with it.

There's also the issue of space. Pictures -- before the advent of pixels -- take up lots of it. So it seemed silly to me to lug around two packs of photos from every trip I've ever taken when I remember the details quite clearly.

I'm not saying it makes any sense. I'm just saying that it did at the time.

This came to a head in the preparations for my wedding. My fiancée and I had decided to rely on amateurs to do the work for us. Bring your own camera, take whatever pictures you like, and that'll be the permanent record. Suited me fine, since I hate pictures.

A few weeks before the big day, the love of my life had a major freakout, and realized that she needed the services of a professional. She would not be deterred. We needed a picture-taker, and a good one. In the proud tradition of grooms with only a matter of weeks to go before the wedding, I said, "Whatever you say, dear."

The point of all this is: we got the pictures last week. There's a box of pictures taken by the professionals, as well as a book of photos snapped by my Aunt Claudia, who is not a photographer by trade but is extremely skilled. And they're sensational. Just truly outstanding. I mean, they're so good, there are actually several where I don't despise the way I look. It's astonishing. And they capture the whole event. Everytime I open the book, I'm reliving the whole day.

In short, I may have been wrong about the whole pictures thing. And that's not a small admission to make. I'm starting to regret not having a better record of many key moments in the past decade, that I don't have more pictures of friends and functions.

Oh, I still look awful in a great many pictures. There's a fine example over at Arnie's blog (see October 15), in which I look like I have a neurological disorder. But I'm beginning to accept that vanity may be getting in the way of future contentment.

Besides, when I have a kid, I'm going to take pictures of that child until my eyes fall out.