Photographs and Memories

 “There is one thing the photograph must contain, the humanity of the moment.”

— Robert Frank

I have a love hate relationship with photography. In high school and college, I practically went broke on film, cameras, and darkroom equipment. The garage in our house was turned into a photo lab and I spent hours developing film, hanging negatives, “dodging” black and white prints under my enlarger, and framing shots that I thought were artistic, but were mostly tree branches with snow and trees with no leaves. All without a computer. There was no PhotoShop, no Instagram filters, and definitely no retakes of forty or fifty shots to get the perfect “selfie.” It was an accomplishment if I managed to set the self-timer on my beloved Canon AE-1, and then make it into the frame before it went off. There are more than a few family pictures where my parents and brother are smiling and posed, but off to the side is a random blur of red hair and an arm or shoulder racing to be included. 

My father was the original amateur photographer, but to hear him tell it, he was the next Ansel Adams. He bought a Polaroid Land 100, the very week it came out and he was almost never without it. That his Bell and Howell Super8 movie camera documented my childhood. Back then, I wanted to be in every picture, but that changed when I hit the awkward years, which, to be honest, continue to this day. My comfort level was behind the camera, never in front of it. 

These days I rarely want to be the one in the picture, and will try to find any way possible to stand behind someone else, or at least suck in all my bits, and place a book or an unsuspecting pet over anything that can’t be contained. Recently, however, I met local photographer Fred Marco and we got to talking about photos, self-esteem, and how it should be about capturing moments and memories, rather than causing an existential hair crisis. Fred had photographed my daughter, for her senior pictures, so I knew he was proficient, but of course, Devin is eighteen and gorgeous, and I am…older and not. Fred said it didn’t matter, that his approach was to bring out what is unique and wonderful about all of his subjects. I couldn’t imagine how he was going to capture sarcasm and a snarky attitude on film, but another friend offered us the use of his beautiful Edsel (I will never understand how those cars didn’t catch on) and the fall colors were blooming, so why not? Besides, the tail fins on an Edsel can hide anything. A date was set, the weather cooperated and in the high school parking lot, on a sunny Saturday afternoon, it was like a shoot for Vogue. Well, not really, since I am no cover girl, but still, it was quite something.

Here’s the thing about good photographers. They know their cameras and equipment. They understand about lighting, about posing and how to get the best results. They understand f stops and apertures. A good photographer has all that down pat. There is a technical part of talent, but the most important part of photographing people is about understanding who the subject is, aside from appearances and size and, in my case, an inside voice that is screaming, “Jeeez, he’s gonna need a wide angle lens and boat tarp for this unless he shoots me from the nose up!” Fred was nothing short of amazing, considering he was dealing with a fifty-something neurotic mess who had to borrow clothes from a much more stylish friend (thank you Katy, you’re a lifesaver, as always.) I couldn’t tell you what kind of camera he had, or what lens he used, or how he decided which shots to take from where, but I will never forget how he managed to make me laugh, smile, pose, and actually have fun. That, my friends, is talent. Getting me, an expert in the art of gut sucking and hiding behind furniture, to perch precariously on the bumper of a classic car, in heels, without looking like something was stuck up my nose, is an accomplishment that only the best and the bravest of photographers can achieve, and Fred managed it, while cracking jokes and putting me at ease. 

Fred showed me that posing for a photo doesn’t have to trigger an urge to pull a bag over my head or duck behind a tree. He figured out what would work, and while some of it was technical, most of it was artistic talent and an understanding that, for some of us, being in front of a lens can be way harder than being behind one. If photographs are supposed to be about moments and memories, these photos did that and more. It’s a new year, and while it might not mean there is a new me, working with Fred Marco gave me a new attitude. For one sunny afternoon, I felt like a super model instead of merely supersized. Check him out at https://www.fredmarcophotography.com/