After Life

16

I adjusted my position on the couch, bending my knees further to bring my laptop even closer to my face. My eyes remained glued to the screen, unable, or unwilling, I'm wasn't quite sure which, to look away from the images staring back at me. One hand controlled the computer, sliding through the photographs slowly, almost meticulously, while the other hand was firmly placed at my mouth, my teeth gnawing on my already too short nails.

This had been the position I had remained in for the last hour.

After returning home from my photo shoot with Harry, I practically threw my bags and other items aside, racing to the couch to retrieve my laptop. Camera in hand, I retrieved the SD card, sliding it into the slot in the side of the computer, loading the images and saving them to a file.  The transfer took a while, as it seemed to do whenever I was anxious and anticipating what was about to be relayed back to me.

Once everything was loaded, I sat cross legged on the couch, my laptop in my lap, going through the results. I made two subfolders; one for images that were generally well done, another for images that I would use in my assignment. As I slid through the raw photographs from the day, taking time to analyze each one, determine if it was worth keeping and if so in what folder it belonged, I found myself growing excited.  I had known all along that Harry was photogenic, and his suitability for this particular assignment was strikingly evident. But as I looked back over what we had produced during our day, I couldn't help but be surprised at the magnitude of what we had created.

After editing down the images, I ended up with fifteen in the 'generally well done' folder, and nine in the 'assignment' folder. Those in the 'well done' folder were just that...well done. Harry was an attractive, intriguing, photogenic man regardless of his distaste and tension in front of a camera. The angle and cut of his jaw, matched with the depth and subtleties in his eyes, were striking and pleasing. I was happy with the images we gained, even if they weren't what I had been aiming for with this shoot.

Moving on to review those I had chosen for my assignment, I found myself increasingly both captivated and heartbroken. As I scrolled through, starting with the one image that cast a somewhat lost impression from the studio, all the way through to those we shot in the library, I found myself haunted by him. It was as if, without ever meaning to, we had created a story. A slow, gentle time lapse as his reluctance and rejection of the camera dimmed, and my knowledge and subtlety with the lens increased.

The one from the studio that first caused my eyes to widen, was the shot I had taken while he looked out the window. His posture was relaxed, leaning against the window frame, almost absentmindedly. But it was the look in his eyes, a far away, lost expression that drew you in. You knew he was thinking about something, and for some reason your immediate thought was sorrow. I wasn't sure if it was just my reaction, or if I was projecting my assignment topic onto the screen, but I felt a sadness when I looked at him.

The images that immediately struck me were those I had taken of him on the stairs of the library while I had gone to the vendor to get a water. He had no idea he was being photographed, and I learned quickly that that was the key for producing the type of images I required from him. If he knew he was in front of the camera, it was as if he placed a wall between himself and the lens. Protecting himself, and projecting an air of anger and defense. But when it was in secret, and he was at ease, on his own and left with his thoughts, his natural intrigue was brought forth.