UNTITLED by CHRISTOPHER LANGE
It poured that night, but thanks to the scaffolding I escaped the torrent.
The district was finally back to normal, after the frigid Winter months, and the strange transitory period that always comes with the Spring, as well as the slow onset of Summer.
I hadn’t been waiting long, when, surely enough, I began to receive the usual barrage of questions.
“WHAT ARE YOU FILMING?”
“WHAT MOVIE IS THIS FOR?”
“IS THIS FOR A MAGAZINE?”
“ARE YOU A PAPARAZZI?”
Believe me lady, if I was a paparazzo, the last camera I would be shooting would be a Hasselblad mounted on a tripod. Don’t worry, you’re not that famous.
Anyway, I let the comments roll off my shoulders, and started scouting for subjects. I generally enjoy photographing women, and girls, more than men, because I feel like I have more of a natural rapport with them, but all the same, I find that I can talk men into standing for my camera longer than I can the women.
When it comes down to it, time is the key to a good photograph, a simple “smile and stand there” just doesn’t cut it, you’ve got to whittle away at their predisposition to simply say “cheese” and walk away.
Anyway, I usually think of a rainy night as a wash (no pun intended) as far as portraiture goes, because, simply enough, nobody wants to stand in the goddamn pouring rain and have their picture taken.
As I said, thank goodness for the scaffolding.
I framed up and photographed his lady-friend. She pulled the usual smile and cheese pose, and I burned a frame just to get her out of the way. I was much more interested in the slightly impatient expression and rain-drop ridden shirt. He was almost surprised when I told him to step in front of them camera, as if assuming that the only thing I wanted was a picture of the girl. Not the case, but it’s understandable.
I focused, locked the mirror, and told him not to smile.
The shutter went off and I took my thumb off the cable.
It was a good one.