Full Frame
11
Down to Business
I WAS RELIEVED that there was no embarrassed tension between Chris and me in English class. She did have me pass a note to Patricia, but I didn’t ask what it was about. I was especially relieved because the night before, I’d stroked out three huge comes while looking at pictures of three pairs of my classmates’ tits. Well, Chris only showed one of her boobs, but Janice and Patricia flashed me full with both sides. I went to sleep imagining first one and then the next cuddled up to me with my hands on those perfect teenage breasts, or maybe even getting to suck on them. I woke up in the middle of the night, took one more look at the three pictures, and stroked off another.
What was it that had changed when I moved to Tenbrook? As far as I could tell, I was still the same kind of geeky kid with a camera I was in Chicago. But refinishing an old bicycle had led to refinishing a motorcycle and photos of three incredible girls that won awards in the fairs. Then a chance encounter in a cemetery brought me a fourth model. Frankly, I just liked Christine better than any of the others. Patricia was a marginally better model, and I suppose her bold display was definitely worthy of a Playboy centerfold.
Janice and Judy were sexy, but they approached life with a level of maturity only slightly more advanced than my little sister’s. They were still discovering what their bodies were good for and did it through all their strange costumes. Not that I’d push either of them out of bed.
Then there was Chris. I knew that if I wasn’t attached to Anna, I’d have accepted Chris’s offer in a heartbeat and hoped it led to heaven. She really turned me on.
Anna was just the sweetest and most fun person I’d ever hung out with. We were really working well together on the yearbook photos. She always had an idea and was ready to pose people for me to photograph. I’d taken a few pictures of her, but she usually rolled her eyes and just went on doing whatever else she had to do. I really liked her and I was mentally ticking off the days until December fifteenth when I could kiss her.
I asked Anna how her party was at church Saturday night and got the same kind of eye roll.
“I know I’d have had more fun if I’d gone with you, but some things just can’t be avoided,” she’d said. I really wondered how much of her church beliefs were hers and how much were her parents’ that they foisted off on her.
For that matter, how about my own beliefs. I’d certainly been in church for long enough to learn how to play the right games and say the right things. Sure, I believed, but I’d still like to fuck Christine. I mean Anna. Hell. I obviously wasn’t mature enough to even be considering it.
I made a double set of prints of the Halloween party and Wednesday evening, I took them to the rectory and finally met Father Emory for the first time. He hadn’t actually been at the party, various parents having been the chaperones.
“Father Emory, I’m Nate. I was at the youth party Saturday night and took a lot of pictures of the kids who were there. I made a couple of sets of prints and thought perhaps you would like to give them to the parents or the kids themselves.”
“That’s very kind of you, Nate. Oh, yes. They were a lively bunch, weren’t they? It always amazes me to see the costumes they come up with. And are you new in town?” he asked.
“Oh. I should have said that I bring greetings from Reverend Mother Superior,” I said chuckling.
“I beg your pardon. Was there a nun…?”
“Oh, no. My mother is Reverend Hart, the new Methodist minister. She’s my mother, she’s a reverend, and there is none better, so I sometimes call her Reverend Mother Superior. I suppose that’s not a very good joke for Catholics,” I said apologetically. The priest sputtered in laughter.
“No, it’s an excellent joke for Catholics. I can hardly wait to tell the bishop. I might borrow the phrase when I meet your mother at the next council meeting.”
“I kind of collect preacher jokes of all kinds,” I said. “It’s part of surviving in a minister’s home.”
“Oh, well, let me see if I can help. A Methodist minister, a Catholic Priest, and a rabbit walk into a bar. The rabbit says, ‘I’m beginning to think I’m a typo.’” He grinned at me and I laughed. “Now you.”
“Um… Okay. A Lutheran minister, a Methodist minister, and a Catholic priest were meeting at the council of churches one day. The topic of tithing came up and they asked each other how they determined what portion of their salary they should give back to God. The Lutheran preacher said, ‘I put an offering plate in the middle of the table and throw my money in the air. What lands in the plate, I give to God.’ The Methodist minister said, ‘Mine is similar. I simply have a small table and I throw my money into the air. What lands on the table, I give to God.’ The Priest nodded and said, ‘I do much the same thing. I just toss my money into the air and God takes his while it’s up there.’” I sort of held my breath to see if he really had a sense of humor and he started laughing immediately.
“Very good, Nate. We’ll save more for next time. So, you took these photos and did you say you made the prints?”
“Yes, Father. I have ambitions of becoming a professional photographer. Mr. Barkley at Center Marketplace has provided a space on his fourth floor for my studio and my darkroom. I’ve learned lately that a lot of the quality of a photo is in the processing and printing.”
“These are really very good photos. I am supposed to speak at a national conference in January. Do you suppose you could take my photo for publicity?”
“I think so. Would you want to come to the studio?”
“I would rather you take it in the church. Let’s say in my native habitat. I would, of course, be willing to pay for the portrait.”
“I promise I would make it a reasonable price. You know I only do black and white.”
“Well, they plan to put it in a brochure, so I’m sure black and white is exactly what they want. Let’s set a time. I have a Saturday morning mass at ten for people who can’t make it on Sunday. Can you come to the church at eleven?”
“Yes, sir. That would be fine. Could I perhaps get a tour of the church so I can see what the light is like?” I asked.
“Why don’t we just step over there right now, though I was thinking in the morning Saturday because the sanctuary is much brighter in the morning.”
We walked to the church next door and I was shown the sanctuary and where he would like the picture in his pulpit. I could see the light from the windows would really be nice if it was a sunny morning. I told him I’d see him at eleven Saturday.
“Do you ever go to church on Saturday morning?” I asked Judy when we met for biology Thursday.
“Um… Sometimes. Why?”
“I was wondering if you’d sort of escort me Saturday. Father Emory wants me to take his picture in the pulpit after mass.”
“Really? Does he want a nude?”
“Judy!”
“Okay. Sure. Saturday morning mass isn’t as formal as Sunday. That’s why some of the kids go then. We don’t need to dress any better than going to school.”
“That’s good to know. I’ll stop by your house and walk there in time for church.”
Friday night, Anna and I went to the first basketball game of the season. The B-team played at six and the varsity at seven-thirty. Of course, I was officially there to take pictures, but it was the first game of the season and I was more interested in finding out where I could get good shots while enjoying the game and my date.
We held hands through most of the game and Anna pointed out things I should take a picture of. I wasn’t doing very well, but she told me I needed to get down on the floor during halftime and take a picture of the cheerleaders. I got in position and they did a routine that really had a nice flair to it. One ended in splits in front while a tall elegant girl caught the hand of a girl stepping up on her knee and was held steady by the hand of the fourth cheerleader pulling her the other direction. They were in perfect light and I was happy to catch that photo. I thanked Anna repeatedly. I hoped someone knew the names of the four cheerleaders when I developed the photo. Three of them were seniors and I only knew the name of the girl in my class, Ronda May. I had no idea who the other three were. They all four looked pretty yummy—especially the little blonde who was my classmate.
There was a sock hop after the game and we stayed until it was over at eleven. I walked Anna home, holding her hand. I really wanted to kiss her goodnight. We’d been dancing close together all evening. But she slipped inside and said, “See you Monday.”
I walked home.
Saturday morning, I got up and dressed in school clothes.
“Mom, I need to put off doing laundry until later in the day,” I said. “I’m going over to the Catholic Church. Father Emory wants me to take a publicity picture for him after mass. I’ll do laundry as soon as I get back.”
“Okay, dear. Please say to hello to the Reverend Father for me.”
I kind of chuckled as I left and walked over to Judy’s house. She was ready to go and had a demure little beige dress and a jacket on with a pair of black Mary Janes. She looked quite sweet and innocent, though I thought the dress was a little shorter than was allowed in school. I was fine with that.
“Thanks for escorting me to your church. I’d just feel funny if I walked in alone and didn’t know how to do anything.”
“Well, just remember you aren’t Catholic, so you can’t take communion. Saturday mornings, Father uses the new mass in English. He still uses the Latin mass on Sunday morning.”
“There must be a ton of Catholics to have so many services and a private cemetery.”
“Not really any more than any of the other churches, I don’t think. We just live under threat of excommunication if we don’t do as we’re told.”
“You’re kidding!”
“Yes. Don’t try to cross yourself during the service. Protestants always get it wrong.”
We went into the service and it was pretty much the same as a Methodist service. Stand up, sit down, stand up. Then something new to me. They had a kneeling bench between the pews and knelt there during the prayers. Of course, everyone went forward to take communion except the little kids and me.
“Judy, is this your boyfriend?” a woman asked as we stood while people left.
“No, Mrs. Simpson. Nate’s a classmate of mine and he’s just here to take a picture of Father Emory,” Judy answered.
“Well, he looks like a nice boy. Might want to think about that.” She smiled at me and I sort of nodded. How the heck would she know if I was a nice boy by looking at me?
Fortunately, no one else stopped us as we made our way to the front of the church. I looked for a good vantage from which to shoot the priest. His pulpit was up higher and if he wanted the photo there, I’d be looking up his nostrils or it would be like he was glowering down on me from above.
“What’s up there?” I asked pointing at a kind of balcony on one side.
“Oh, that’s a choir loft, or used to be,” Judy said. “I guess the plan was that there would be a whole religious community that sat there and sang and chanted and stuff. It’s just used for storage now.”
I convinced Judy to show it to me. It was just a little above the pulpit level and I sighted through my camera lens.
“Nate? Are you here?” I heard Father Emory’s voice.
“In the choir loft, Father. This is a good angle to get you in the pulpit if that’s what you would like,” I called down. He looked up at me.
“Yes, yes. Let’s try that. I thought perhaps you’d get one more straight on with the altar behind me.”
“We’ll do that one, too. As long as I’m up here, let’s get this one first.”
He mounted the pulpit and took several different poses as if he were a much more expressive preacher than what I’d seen. I ran through a bunch of lens settings trying for different effects. Then I came down stairs.
“Judy? Were you up there with this young man?”
“Yes, Father. He asked me to show him the loft so he could take your picture there. I didn’t think he should just be climbing around the church without someone in attendance,” she said.
“Oh. Yes, well that’s good thinking, I guess.”
“Now, Father, how about you standing just over here. The stained glass behind you is lovely, but I’m not sure exactly how well it will register in black and white. If I use a red filter, I can increase the contrast a bit. Shall we try?”
The priest was really a good-looking guy. I thought the photos were pretty good. I even got his permission to go up into the pulpit to get a slight angle down on him with the light from the stained glass on his face. That was pretty cool. While I was up there, I saw the typewritten pages of everything that had been done in church.
“Do you read the whole service?” I asked. I didn’t think about it being rude. Mom usually had a page of notes and spoke extemporaneously. Of course, she practiced a lot on Saturday while Father Emory was actually in the pulpit.
“Oh, yes. It’s so easy to forget a little something—especially if I’m doing it in Latin. It was the way we were taught in seminary and I never broke myself of the habit. You know there’s a story about a priest who became so dependent on his notes that he couldn’t speak without them,” he said. Oh boy. I was in for another priest joke. “He called the pages the leaves of his text and he always positioned them on the pulpit before the service began in the morning. It was a warm day and the church had windows open and fans blowing to cool off the sanctuary. Unfortunately, it blew his leaves all over and a helpful young lad gathered them all up and placed them back on the pulpit. The priest began his homily and was doing well when he said, ‘And Adam said to Eve…’ He turned to the next page and sighed, ‘Oh, dear. There seems to be a leaf missing.’ I’m told that was the closing chapter of his ministry.”
I laughed. Yeah. It was pretty funny. I told him I’d get these processed and bring prints to him on Wednesday.
Judy and I left. I was just going to walk her home and then head home to do the laundry, but she nudged me toward the studio.
“Why don’t you take a picture of me in my church clothes?” she asked.
“Oh. Sure. We can’t spend a lot of time, but we should be able to get a few.” I thought the dress she was wearing was a little nicer than what kids usually wore to school. And it stopped about four inches above her knees. Nice legs.
I opened the door to the studio and Judy went straight to work. She obviously had an idea of what she wanted and I was pleased to see her working to get it right. She set the bench where she wanted it and took a fake plant to the end of it. Then she dragged the little table next to it with a flower in a vase, and put a piece of picket fence behind it. Seeing the kind of scene she was setting up, I dropped the blue backdrop behind her. I really needed to improve the rolling and unrolling of the backdrops or I’d have the edges torn to pieces. She stepped back to look at it and pronounced the setting good. She seated herself on the bench and I set the lights for a nice pastoral scene.
I took a picture, and she shifted positions. Then I snapped the shutter and she changed again. After the third position, I realized she was telling a story. By the eighth frame, she had her feet up on the bench and was leaning on the table. The vase of flowers was tipped over. Then she slipped down further and lay her head on her arms.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“That was a beautiful story and I think I captured every pose. What inspired you?”
“What you said when we first met, that you try to tell a story for each photo. I got to thinking about it when I was working on our creative writing assignment and wrote a little story about a girl who was supposed to meet her lover at a park café but he never shows up, no matter how long she waits. I thought you could tell the story with pictures.”
“That was a beautiful idea, Judy. Let’s just leave everything here. I need to get home for my Saturday chores. I’ll try to get the film processed tonight.” We headed for the door and Judy seemed very happy.
“And I didn’t have to get naked or anything,” she whispered as she left.
I got the film processed that night, but didn’t get anything printed until Sunday afternoon. I had three really excellent shots of Father Emory, one that I cropped to just a head shot, one in the pulpit, and one kind of three quarters front looking out at the sanctuary. The pulpit shot showed him down to his chest. The three-quarter profile showed his vestments all the way to the floor. I needed to get a model release from him in exchange for the sitting and then sell him the prints. I thought I could display one of his pictures on my gallery wall.
Then I worked on Judy’s story photos. It took me some time to get the exposure, timing, and filter correct for it. I think I printed half a dozen test sheets. Then I started printing the photos the way I thought they would best tell the story. I had only used the diffuse light from the overheads and one of the mini theatre lights focused on her face. It had a really soft tone to it. I was able to make the background go from fairly sharp in the first picture to fading as we came to the end of the scene. It was definitely a cool set and I printed one for Judy as well.
When I got home for ice cream and TV, Mom said I’d gotten a call from a Mrs. Adams about a Christmas photo. I didn’t know a thing about it, but Mom told me I’d better return the call.
“Mrs. Adams, this is Nate Hart. I received a message to call you about a photograph.”
“Oh, yes, Nate. Thank you for calling. I just loved the photo you took at the party of Paul and Amber.”
“Um… Which photo was that?” I asked. I’d taken two rolls of film that night and even though most of one of them was Judy and Janice in the cemetery, there were still a bunch of kids at that party.
“They were dressed as Pugsly and Wednesday from The Addams Family. We all just love that show and it got me thinking this is our opportunity to do an Adams family portrait for Christmas. I think our friends would get a kick out of it if we sent them each a copy.”
“I could print up copies. How many and what size?”
“Oh. Not of the one you already took. We’d want about thirty copies, but we want the whole family in the portrait.”
“Oh. I don’t… I mean my studio is really small. I don’t know that I could fit a whole family in it.”
“We thought it would be best if it were taken here at our home. We’ll decorate it to be like the TV show. Do you have lights?”
“I do have a few. Perhaps I could visit and assess what I’ll need.”
“Yes, that would be good. Maybe we can set up time over Thanksgiving weekend for you to take the photo. Why don’t you stop by after school one afternoon this week? We live just out of town on Pleasant Hill Road.” She gave me the address and I said I’d ride out after school on Wednesday unless it was raining.
Monday, Miss Sullivan posted the cheerleader photo. She wanted to know what else I’d been shooting other than school events. I’ve been carrying a portfolio in my bag, so I pulled it out. The first thing she looked at was the story series that I’d brought to give to Judy.
“This is beautiful. And just Judy? Not Janice?”
“Judy brought the idea to me and chose the props. We took them Saturday morning in my studio, just after I did these shots of Father Emory.”
“This headshot is a great promo shot. I take it that is what you were going for.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I had a couple of photos of Chris, the Halloween photos of Judy and Janice, and one picture of Patricia that I’d cropped to just a glamour shot. I considered it presentable to the general public. Of course, I didn’t carry any photos in my portfolio that showed any girl exposed. That would be sure to get me in trouble in school.
“I’m glad you’re progressing more with your personal work. I was afraid the school photography was taking all your creative time.”
“It takes a lot, though having Anna help with staging shots and collecting information is really smoothing things out. She even told me where to go to get the cheerleader shot at Friday’s game. I need to find a better place to photograph the action, though.”
“I see many professional sports photographers in the newspaper seem to be stationed at the end of the court near the basket. The referees won’t let you move around down there or use a flash to distract the players, but if you can stay in one position, you should be able to get closer action shots there. I’ll mention to Coach Franks that you need to be there and he’ll tell the officials. Oh. And I don’t think you need to try to photograph away games. We have eleven home games during the season and that should be enough. Besides, the home uniforms have better contrast than the away uniforms.”
“Thank you. I was worried about making all the away games, too.”
“They still make a good date venue. Consider that,” she laughed.
I ran to English class.
Judy loved the story set I gave her and couldn’t wait to show her mother. I think Janice was a little jealous.
“What are you going to call your style?” Patricia asked. “You know there’s a certain feel to the way you’re capturing images with whatever props we can find in the storage area. You should have a name for your studio or your style.”
“That’s an interesting idea. I’ll have to think about it. Even with your and Chris’s shots, they aren’t a typical glamour photo. There’s something just a little… um… trashy about them. Not about you, but about the setting and props.”
“That’s something to consider, but I don’t know that you could sell it. You got paid for the photos of Father Emory, right? You want to get other people to pay you to take their picture. I love our arrangement where I get copies to use and you have the right to them, but that isn’t going to pay your bills.”
“Well, presumably Father Emory will pay me. I’m taking his photos to him tonight. You’re right, though. I’ve been spending a lot of money on supplies and am not getting a lot of return. I need to see where I can sell photos, too.”
I thought about that all day.
Father Emory was pleased and paid me $15 for the three prints and signed the model release. Then he asked for three more of the head shot and gave me another $15 in advance.
When I went to the Adams’ house Wednesday afternoon, I almost had to laugh. They were real fans of The Addams Family and had already started decorating their living room. There was a lovely vase with rose stems in it on the mantel. Just the stems. All the flowers had been cut off. The hand I’d seen on Pugsly’s shoulder at the party was also on the mantel. They even had a wicker chair that looked a lot like Morticia’s chair.
Mrs. Adams wasn’t nearly as slim as Morticia, but I was sure she’d do her best to costume herself. She was funny and bubbly and I could imagine her kids had a lot of fun in their house. To top it all off, they had a sheepdog with hair down over his eyes, so they even had a cousin It. I guess there was an older brother who also played on the school basketball team. I hadn’t really met him yet as he was a senior.
I explained the process, that I would charge $40 for the photo session and give them a sheet of proofs they could choose from. Then I’d charge $3.00 per 5x7 print they ordered. I thought with time and energy involved, a 5x7 for $3.00 was about equivalent of an 8x10 for $5.00. I also figured I had fifty cents in there that I could negotiate with if I needed to give them a better deal. I knew that Mr. Grossman charged $2.75 for 5x7 prints, but these would be custom settings and not commercial processing.
Mrs. Adams thought it was fair and said she would confirm with her husband. We set up an appointment for me to take the pictures in their living room the day after Thanksgiving at 2:00.
I went home and opened my Camera Warehouse catalog. I really needed to up my game for lighting. The little mini theatre lights I’d been using in the studio were barely adequate for the kind of photos I’d been taking. I admitted, however, that they had affected my style and were contributing to the ‘trashy’ effect I’d referred to when talking to Patricia.
I found what I wanted. It was minimal, but I thought it would supply the fill that was so desperately needed to cut the shadows on the backdrops and to soften the light on my subjects. It cost me almost a hundred dollars to buy the lights with the two soft boxes on stands, and 250-watt floods. Then I decided to go whole hog and order a backdrop stand with it. That was another fifty dollars, but I’d be able to wind all four rolls of paper backdrop on it and pull down whichever one I needed.
Thursday, I left school at lunch and went to the bank to get a money order for the things I needed and mail in the order.
Friday afternoon, Anna and I rode the fan bus with about twenty other students and the cheerleaders. I brought my camera in case there was suddenly the perfect photo that I had to take, but agreed that this was a date and not a school photography assignment. It turned out that we just enjoyed the games and I never unslung the camera.
We cheered and held hands. On the bus on the way home, she cuddled up next to me and I put my arm around her. I can’t say it was all that comfortable because it was a school bus and wasn’t really meant for cuddling. But I shifted around with her next to the window and she put her face right up to my neck. I could feel her breath against my skin all the way home. I walked her home from school and at her door, we hugged. Then she put two fingers to her lips and kissed them. Then she put those fingers against my lips and I kissed them.
She quickly slipped inside and I walked home licking my lips where she’d touched them.
I stopped at the library on my way to do laundry Saturday. Miss Ludwig had called and said she had a new book she thought I’d like. It was a book on amateur photography called Manual of Applied Photography by Joachim Giebelhausen, a German photography expert. I’d heard of him in Popular Photography magazine. I checked the book out and went to do the laundry. I got so absorbed in the book that I left the clothes in the washing machine for fifteen minutes after they’d finished. Someone who wanted to use the machines nudged me and asked me if those were mine.
There were a ton of techniques and hints in the book for every kind of photography. I could tell already that I’d be checking it out frequently because I couldn’t possibly grasp everything in a single reading.
After the clothes were dry, I swung by the library again to thank Miss Ludwig for letting me know about the book.
“Oh, when I know someone has an interest in a topic, I try to get books that meet those interests. That’s why you find fewer bestsellers in our library than, say, in Huntertown. There, they simply look at what is popular nationally and order it. I try to stay focused on what our local people are interested in. For instance, your sister has shown an interest in science fiction. I found A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle and since your sister first checked it out, ten other girls have been in to get the book. She’s quite a trendsetter! And she just gobbled up Mendelwitz’s book, Drawing, that I found. She’s checked it out three times!”
“That’s great to hear,” I said. “This is such a good book, I’ll be checking it out often.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I’ll keep an eye out for other books that might be helpful.”
“Miss Ludwig, could I come in sometime and take your photograph? I like taking pictures of interesting people, and you are definitely one of them in this town. I shot the priest a few days ago and am thinking I’d like to get portraits of a lot of influential people in town—community leaders.”
“Well, I’m embarrassed to have my picture taken, but if you are getting pictures of many of the townspeople, I suppose that would be all right. Just let me know when. The library is usually pretty quiet. It’s not like we have crowds breaking down the doors for the latest books,” she laughed.
I don’t know what inspired me, but I got to thinking about some of the people I’d met since moving to Tenbrook, and thought a collection of photos of the townspeople would be fun.
I got a surprise Monday after school. Miss Sullivan asked me to come to the business classroom. When I got there, a very sad-looking cheerleader was sitting at one of the desks.
“Mr. Hart, I don’t know if you have met Pam Gottschalk. Miss Gottschalk, this is the photographer you asked about, Nate Hart. I’ll leave you to discuss the problem. Nate, I don’t consider this school business, just so you know,” Miss Sullivan said.
I thought that was a little odd, but I sat to chat with Pam and find out what she wanted. She just pushed the proof sheet of her class photo over to me.
I examined the photos and even pulled my loupe out to get a closer look at the best one. I looked up at her and she looked angry. I didn’t blame her.
“Pam, I don’t know how to say this without bad-mouthing the photographer, but these pictures are really terrible. You look like a cardboard cutout. I’m pretty familiar with proof sheets and they often look flatter than the final image, but I can’t imagine them taking the time it would take in processing to get a good print out of any of these. Believe me, you are much prettier than these photos show.” Pam was really very pretty, but the photos were really atrocious. She had a short hairstyle that was puffed up in back, had bangs to just above her eyebrows, and a curl up to her cheek. Her smile was brilliant.
“Thank you. Do you see my problem? These are supposed to be our senior photos that go into the yearbook and that we give to our families. I don’t want this to be the way people remember me when they look at their yearbooks before our tenth class reunion,” she said. “Um… I talked to a couple of girls I know who have had you take their pictures and they showed me a couple of them. I was wondering if you could do a portrait of me that I’d be proud of when people look it up ten years from now.”
“I can’t imagine taking a photo of you that didn’t look good. I guess these guys are proof that it’s possible, but we could definitely arrange a sitting in my studio that would be a lot better than this,” I said.
“I saw the kind of trashy glamour photos you took of Patricia and Chris. That was Patricia’s word, by the way. I’d like to get something like that, too. You know, bare shoulders and glamorous but with an interesting setting and pose,” Pam said.
I breathed a little sigh of relief that she hadn’t said topless. Either girl could have shown her a picture of her breasts, but apparently, they’d just shown the portraits.
“Uh… I have no problem doing that, but what Miss Sullivan said about this not being school business means that I have to charge for the sitting and prints.”
“How much?” she asked. I’d just decided on my rates when I did the estimate for the Adamses.
“The sitting is $40. Included in that is as much work as we need to make sure we get a good photo. Probably thirty or thirty-six shots. It would also include a proof sheet so we could select the best picture, a 5x7 for you to use for the yearbook, and an 8x10 for you to frame for yourself. Additional 5x7s are $3.00 each and 8x10s are $5.00 each. Oh, and all photos are black and white. I don’t do color work.”
“I loved the picture you took of us cheerleaders at the game. It’s possible the other cheerleaders will want photos like this, too. Um… Is there anything I could do to uh… reduce the cost a little?” she whispered.
I wasn’t sure what she was suggesting, but it sounded like it was something really intimate. I didn’t want to get into the routine of exchanging photo sessions for kisses or feels or fucking. In the first place, I’d never make any money. I’d just been talking to Patricia about how I need to make money for myself. I adopted a slight leer as I looked at her and whispered back.
“I’m sure there is. I know a way you could get the sitting and first two prints at no charge.”
She swallowed hard. “What do you want me to do to you?”
“Mmm. Not actually to me. I guess for me. If the sitting is in my studio and I’m providing it for free, I’d like a model release. It’s a standard release that’s the same that Patricia and Chris signed. It says you can have the standard package with your choice of the 5x7 and 8x10 to use as you want. And you can have reprints of any of them for half price. But in return, I have the right to use the photos in any way I see fit. That includes publishing them in a magazine if I’m lucky enough to get one accepted, or entering them in a competition, like I did with one of Patricia’s photos that won Best of Show at the State Fair. It would also be a little longer session, as I’d want to experiment with other poses that you probably wouldn’t want for your senior picture.”
“You mean like nudes?”
“Not necessarily. That would be fun, but I don’t expect that of any model. Here. Take a look at this set I did of Judy Delap.” I showed her the story pictures I’d done of Judy. I was so pleased with those that I had added an entire set to the portfolio I carried around.
“Oh, that’s cool. You have props and stuff like that at your studio?”
“Yes. There’s a lot of cool stuff there. Interested?”
“Let me think about it, okay? When could we do it?”
“I like to take photos on Sunday afternoons. We could do it this weekend if you want.”
“Thanks. Let’s plan on that and I’ll get back to you regarding the release.”
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
