Ever since I can remember, I have always hated having my picture taken.
It wasn’t comfortable for me to be standing in front of either my mum or my dad and pose for a moment that I wasn’t really enjoying. But my parents are sick with nostalgia so they wanted to remember everything that happens.
I’ve had to pose for everything it seemed like. My first birthday, my first christmas, my first day of school, my last day of school, my first holiday. They even took a picture of me in the hospital when I got my appendix removed. Out of all the time to capture a moment in my life, this wasn’t it.
I wasn’t silent about getting my picture taken either. I voiced that I didn’t want to be photographed and would often do anything I can to have just one picture so I didn’t have to stand longer for another one. Until eventually,when I was 12, my mother decided to give me the camera one night. On my grandparents 40th wedding anniversary, I got to be the cameraman.
I finally understood why my parents loved taking pictures so much. It’s a lot of fun when you’re not in front of the lens. I used up the whole reel of film that was in our camera at the time. I got done taking pictures of the family within the first hour of the night. After that I started taking pictures of everything.
The meal we had for my grandparents were in a dining room so fancy that it didn’t even suit my family that we were there. But despite how we were perceived we carried on with the meal. Once that was done I took pictures of everything. The dining room scenery, the fake plants in the columns and the plates that were far too decorative to hold a roast dinner.
Then I took pictures of the entrance way and the guests that were not family members. It was at this point that the camera was taking off me. Something awoke in me behind that camera. It was fun not to be standing in front of it anymore, but to capture the moment. Not even the family moments that my mother mainly wanted the most but everything.
Champagne glasses, red coloured beef gravy being poured onto a rich leg of lamb. Finally I got why we take photos. We are finally show off what we are able to see when people aren’t able to look at what we see. At least that’s what I argued with my mum when the photos came back.
After a while at the next family events I was taking the pictures. It was the first thing I had in my life that felt like a hobby. A hobby that then turned into an interest, an interest that lead into a passion and a passion that led me to go into university.
I never thought I was cut out for the university types. The ones that go here for law and science and engineering degrees. I didn’t think they would allow me a place. Turns out they did. And I walked away after 4 years and 6 or 7 exhibitions for myself and friends in my local bars and art galleries,as well as saving every hard piece of cash I afford my first professional Canon 5D Mark 2. I was a qualified photographer.
A piece of paper that has my name on it, in fancier writing than I can write says I am a top photographer. It was awesome at first and now I can’t face looking at it.
As much as a passion turned into a career prospect, I never expected in a million years to want to break up with it. This wasn’t like a bad relationship or a rocky friendship, this was something else. I dedicated myself to something that opened me up and held up the mirror of who I was to everyone. My friends, family, lecturers, everyone. Nowadays I can barely take a picture on my phone.
I hated it. I hated myself most of all. The first thing I loved and was passionate for suddenly became the bain of my existence and it wasn’t even its fault.
How can you blame the craft of something that you worked so tirelessly for that eventually you begin to question why you followed through with it in the first place?
In the weeks that followed when I left Uni, I boxed up my camera and left it under my bed. I don’t look at the world the same way I used to. How can I?
The excitement of everything has just faded out of focus. And no matter how I try to sort it out, I just can’t see the image right. Maybe I was too busy taking pictures inside my head and not what’s outside. Sure on the sunniest and bluest of days everything is gorgeous. But yet I kept seeing it as the dark grey clouds that were forming inside me.
Months went by with no work for me. I wasn’t looking. Prestigious club nights would want me to be there resident photographer but I would turn down the offer time and time again. Everytime I say “No”, they keep doubling it. It’s a dream for any photographer to get work hunted down for them like this. But I couldn’t do it to them. I can’t even do it to myself. So I just hid their emails and moved on.
Months went by and I did need a job. I applied for a week course in door supervision.
Within a month of the course, I was working at Edinburgh castle. All I had to do was check bags and see if anyone wasn’t carrying knives or drones. Landmarks are afraid of drones.
At first I hated the job. Tourists are walking past me with their beginner level DSLR’s, claiming that they can take the next view of Edinburgh and say that it’s the best shot they’ll ever see. They’d be lucky if even one of their photos landed as the cover image of an Edinburgh calendar.
“Excuse me”
As a door supervisor you have to answer a lot of questions “Through the arch on the right hand side, yes the weather is weird here and no, the queen doesn’t live in this castle”.
You get used to it after a while. But on my second day on the job, I didn’t expect to get asked
“Could you take the group photo of us outside the castle? You probably get this alot”. Asked the naive tourist.
She hands me her Iphone and gets into frame with the rest of her friends. And suddenly, I care again. I get the angle just about right and make sure the light is centered so that we don’t get flare. Low and behold, I took a perfect picture.
I handed the tourist back her phone. Wishing somehow that I have got a copy of it one way or another. When I finished my shift, I found myself staring up at the ceiling wondering “Did I really enjoy taking a photo again?”
I called Liam and Dean, the night security guys from the castle to let me in after hours once everyone was gone. Soon as I got confirmation, I got my camera from under my bed and I started taking pictures again.
I needed to capture something. Anything. The lights of the city street oughta do it. No tourists, no bag checks, this was me finally showing off what I can do with my DSLR in a tourist landmark. There was no pressure to what I was taking. I was just taking pictures. It’s all I want to do.
Maybe I didn’t fall out of love with photography. Maybe I just needed to find the love of doing something without so much restrictions. That restriction was the grey clouds in my head holding me back.
So maybe i’ve found a niche for myself. Security guard by day, photographer at night. It has a nice ring to it.