Over Exposure
29
Location Portraiture
I BREEZED THROUGH CUSTOMS at Heathrow Airport. I think Adrienne’s advice on how to dress was the key. I saw another guy with long hair dressed in jeans and a T-shirt get pulled over and all his bags opened and inspected. Hope he wasn’t carrying any drugs.
Adrienne had also given me written instructions on how to get to my hotel. It involved getting some cash changed to British pounds and then buying a ticket for the train into London, which first required a bus ride for some distance from the airport. People were talking about the desirability of rail connections directly from the airport into London, but nobody was doing anything about it. From there, I transferred to a train out to Oxford. Just having that name appear on my resume would open doors, I knew, even though the British Arts Academy technically had nothing to do with Oxford University.
I got my first ride in a black cab from the train station to the little bed and breakfast on the north side of town—an area called Summertown. It was a good thing I got a cab. By the time I got to the hotel, I was practically asleep. Fortunately, the hosts at this place were expecting the students to arrive and I was able to go straight to my room. I asked if I could get a wake-up call at five o’clock, and they smiled and said someone would come around to ‘knock me up.’
I stripped out of my clothes and collapsed on the bed—asleep by the time my head hit the pillow.
Getting knocked up turned out to be having someone pound on my door until I actually went to the door and assured him I was awake. I used the bathroom and washed my face, then dressed for dinner. At six o’clock, I was in the lobby and was immediately greeted by Lady Jane. There were several others standing in a group, so I was circumspect in my greeting.
“Lady Jane, it is so nice to see you again.”
She grabbed me and kissed me on both cheeks, so I guess my offered hand was too formal.
“Nate! I’m glad you accepted the invitation to participate here,” she said.
“Location work is definitely a weakness of mine. I’m looking forward to this,” I said.
“Sir Andrew completely changed the way I look at the subject,” she said. “You’ll love it. Speaking of whom, he’s just arrived.”
“Greetings to all of you,” Sir Andrew announced as soon as he’d arrived. No individual handshakes or introductions. “This three-week photography session will take you to places you never dreamed of going. The first is the Four Arms, where we’ve a room awaiting us and dinner. You’ve come from different parts of the world, so we’ll make it a short evening and be ready to start creating portraits tomorrow morning. This way, if you would, please.”
He turned and walked back out the door. The dozen of us in the lobby immediately followed him out. We walked about three blocks up a rather busy street with Sir Andrew leading the way and never looking back to see if we were following.
The Four Arms was a pub that looked very similar to the one we frequented in Stratford, Ontario, but a plaque by the door indicated it had been established in 1694 under a charter by King William III and Queen Mary II. I didn’t think Stratford had been founded yet. America was still just a baby then.
“Ah! Now we are in a familiar setting and can relax and get to know each other,” Sir Andrew said when we were seated at a large round table and served beers. He raised his, so we followed suit. “Here is to an engaging and educational institute, learning from each other and making portraits of people in their natural surroundings. I am Sir Andrew Scott and will facilitate your learning this month. As you look around the table, you see a dozen others. Our class is divided with six graduate or near graduate level students who are officially attending and participating in the workshop. With you are six undergraduates who have been assigned as your assistants. While they will help you set your shots, carry your equipment, and make sure you have what you need, they are also here to learn. Get to know them well and you will make a mighty team. Let’s start with introductions, shall we?”
At that point, Sir Andrew was seated and pointed to the first person on his left. Jane was on his right and I was next to her. The fellow stood to introduce himself.
“I am Rohan Das of Calcutta, West Bengal in India. You would only know of my town from the musical Oh! Calcutta! which had absolutely nothing to do with Calcutta, India. But we do have beautiful people and I look forward to learning how to make better portraits of them.”
That was cool, I was going to meet people from around the world again. The guy next to him stood.
“I am George Rexford of Liverpool. You know of that as the birthplace of the Beatles. Yes, I have seen them live. I’m assigned as Rohan’s assistant and I think I’ll learn from him as well.”
“I am Brother Hector Costas,” the next guy said. “I am from Kalambaka in Central Greece and am studying photography in Athens. You would not have heard of my village, but it is central to the area known as The Meteora, which has great columns of rock on the tops of which are located several monasteries. I am dressed today in a Western suit and tie, but my normal mode of clothing would be a straight black robe.”
Wow! This was going to be an interesting group.
“I’m Helen Adams,” said the rather petite young woman next to Brother Hector. “I was born and raised here in Oxford as my father is a professor. I know this area pretty well from years of exploring and hiding in the various colleges. Brother Hector has consented to let me be his assistant and I’m very much looking forward to working with him.”
I’d assumed that the women were all student photographers, but apparently, they had female assistants, too. I wondered why she hadn’t been assigned as the assistant to a woman like Lady Jane. Next to her was another woman who stood.
“I am Gretchen Fackler. I am from München, Deutschland—or Munich, Germany, as you would say. My father makes cameras and I grew up around them. In September, our city will host the Summer Olympics. I hope to make portraits of athletes there.”
“I am Rolf Decker. I am also from Munich, but I moved here to study art at the Academy two years ago. I am happy that Gretchen has consented to have me as her assistant, a role I thought I left behind when I left Munich.”
That got us to the point that food was being served and we interrupted the introductions to start eating.
“Should I have sat somewhere else so you had your assistant beside you? I don’t even know who mine is,” I whispered to Jane.
“The assistants all knew where to sit. You’re in the right place,” she answered.
“Um… But who’s my assistant?”
“I am, birdbrain.”
“Aren’t you taking the course?”
“I’ve taken it. You have to share me as your assistant and Sir Andrew’s assistant.”
“So cool!”
“Just behave in public. Got it?”
“Got it.”
Before dessert, we found out the names of the remaining students. Loren Evars was from Sydney, Australia. He was actually a student at RMIT in Melbourne where we’d studied last year. His assistant was Don McIntyre from Aberdeen, Scotland.
The last of the students, other than myself, was Skylar Muldar from Johannesburg, South Africa. I wondered if something nefarious was being set up when Dee Washington was introduced as his assistant. Dee was a black woman from Miami, Florida who had been studying in the UK this year. I already disliked Skylar, just because he was from South Africa. I disciplined myself to reject that feeling. It was just as prejudiced of me as apartheid was. It was Dee who had a ‘right’ to be upset with him and she seemed to be making the best of it.
I managed to get a cup of coffee and light my pipe as most of the others at the table had after dinner drinks and lit cigarettes. After Lady Jane introduced herself, Sir Andrew stood.
“I would like us to get an informal portrait now,” he said. “Would all the photographers simply turn and take a photograph of your assistants.”
I immediately turned to Jane and smiled as I pulled the lens cover off my Nikon.
“I get to start with a picture of you,” I said. “How perfect is that?”
Jane was grinning way beyond what I thought the situation merited as I focused and gave her a count before I snapped the photo. When I turned to the table, I saw why. I was the only one who had a camera out.
“Um… Was this supposed to be a Simon Says moment?” I asked.
“No,” Sir Andrew said. “You carried out the assignment perfectly. I wonder where the other cameras are.”
There was a quick murmur around the table as people said they didn’t know they were supposed to bring a camera.
“A camera is an extension of a photographer. A photographer should always be prepared to make a photograph. An assistant to a photographer has one job above all others—make sure your photographer has everything he or she needs,” Sir Andrew said. That was going to make me a lot of friends. “Frankly, Nate surprised me. I didn’t think any of you had a camera with you. It was supposed to be my first lesson. Jane?”
“No sir. I didn’t say a word to him. He had his camera when he arrived in the lobby of the hotel. Believe me, sir, it’s the kind of guy he is.”
There was a bunch of nervous laughter.
“Okay. Location portraiture will sometimes be planned out in advance. You will have a client and the client will ask you to come to his or her home to photograph him with his piano or hereditary suit of armor, or behind his desk in an office, or next to a flag showing how patriotic he is. But for most of this three-week workshop, we will be working with spontaneous location photography. You’ll see an old woman feeding pigeons and ask if you can take her picture. You’ll encounter a group of tourists trying to take their own photograph and you’ll volunteer to photograph them if you can take a picture or two on your own camera as well. You will need to be ready to get a perfect professional portrait at any time.”
“Sir Andrew, who is to blame for us not having a camera with us?” Loren asked.
“Fixing blame? I don’t think so. I don’t blame you or your assistants for not knowing something I hadn’t taught you yet. Nate, why were you prepared to take a picture?”
“I guess because I’m a tourist and I thought I’d see something to shoot for a memento,” I said.
“You see? He wasn’t really prepared either. Tomorrow, that will change. Your assistants will meet you for breakfast in the morning and will assist you in carrying your equipment to the Academy. We will begin at nine o’clock. My assistant will pay for all that has been served so far. If you want more to drink, you cover the bill yourself. I’m finished for this evening, though, and am returning to my wife and my warm bed. Goodnight.”
Most of us were still pretty jetlagged and were ready to head back to the hotel. I just hoped I’d be able to sleep and get up in the morning. Now it was just a little after noon in Chicago. I wanted to call home and let everyone know I was safe and sound in Oxford.
Jane, of course, had the funds to pay for our evening dinner and drinks. I waited for her and we walked back to the hotel together. Just before we got there, Jane paused and looked around before pulling me into an alley.
“You’ve behaved yourself very well in public,” she whispered. “Perhaps you could behave a little more recklessly for a few minutes and kiss me.”
I gladly complied with her suggestion and we got reacquainted in a more personal way than we’d been able to so far. She felt as good as she looked. After about five minutes with our lips locked, we stepped back to the street, walked to the hotel, and went to our separate rooms.
I went down to breakfast at eight o’clock sharp, pulling my trolley with camera case and lights. The Nikon was slung over my shoulder. Jane flagged me over to a table and I sat with her and two of the other women in the group, Dee and Helen.
“Oh, I’m in love with you!” Jane said when I parked the trolley behind my chair and sat down. I looked at her with my mouth open.
“Lady Jane! What inspires a declaration like that?” I gasped.
“You already have your equipment on a trolley!”
“I don’t know how anyone is supposed to carry all this stuff without one. I’d die in a hundred steps,” I laughed.
“Except you aren’t the one expected to carry it,” Jane said. “I am.”
“You can’t be serious. I know you schlep around equipment all the time, but I’d never expect you to carry my crap.”
“Can I have him, Jane? Please?” Dee pled. “Bwana want Bearer to carry everything and bring him his meals.”
“Dee, if that racist is calling you his servant, I’ll have a talk with him immediately,” I said.
“Easy, Nate. First, we assistants all know and were briefed before you ever got here. A major part of our job is to cart and haul your equipment so you aren’t encumbered by it when you want to use it. It’s quite humbling for a noblewoman to be the servant of an American,” Jane said. “But we were prepared. If you hadn’t brought a trolley, we have some standing by. It’s part of Sir Andrew’s test to see how each photographer is prepared. Today is nearly all about equipment, with examples from Sir Andrew’s many years making portraits.”
“And I’m kidding a little,” Dee said. “Skylar is very nice and I started using the term Bwana to tease him. But he didn’t bring a trolley. I think he expected some brawny dude to be his assistant and he wasn’t very careful about how he packed his equipment. He’s upstairs now trying to decide what he should leave in his room.”
“Sorry,” I said. “The whole apartheid thing in South Africa keeps cropping up for me. We had a symposium in August about Polaroid’s involvement with them.”
That got the conversation going a different direction and I told them about the symposium and how confusing I thought the whole issue was. Everyone there agreed that apartheid was wrong, but no one could agree on how to get a transition to majority rule.
“It’s changing slowly,” Skylar said, coming up to the table. I didn’t realize he was standing behind me while I expressed my frustration. He pulled up a chair next to Dee and she jumped to get him breakfast from the buffet. “My father works for the Polaroid distributor. He agrees with the equal pay, but some of the white employees insist that they should have more money than their black counterparts. Then the government passed a law that the company couldn’t have more black employees than white. Nobody really knows what to do. I’m afraid there’s going to be a bloody revolution and there’s nothing any of us can do about it.”
“Breakfast, Bwana,” Dee said, setting a plate and a teacup in front of Skylar.
“Thank you, Dee. Now no more step and fetch it. I’d like you to check my equipment over and make sure I haven’t overpacked. I’ll carry the camera case because it’s the heaviest. If you can get the lighting and tripod bag, that would be great,” Skylar said.
“And just so the rest of you all know, Skylar and I planned out the breakfast thing in advance. We thought it would get a rise out of someone.”
“You got me,” I said.
“No, I’ve got you,” Jane said possessively. “We should go over your equipment, too, just to make sure we aren’t overpacked.”
“Great.” I slurped down the rest of my coffee and Jane and I went to the lobby to open and inspect my equipment.
“The essence of being a location dependent photographer is being properly prepared for what you might encounter. This is especially true when you are traveling to a different country to make portraits,” Sir Andrew said. “Are you prepared to use Fomopan, Ilford, Agfa, or Kodak film stock? Are you prepared for 120 and 240 electrical connections? Do you have lights for photos in a dark and dingy castle. Not yours, of course, Lady Jane,” he laughed. “Your monastery, Brother Hector? Do you have filters, proper lenses, and a dark bag? Today is all about being completely prepared with as little as possible for your assistant to carry.”
From that point, we gathered around as each camera and equipment bag was opened and surveyed. It was all going well until he lifted my Linhof out of the case and looked at what was revealed. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to shrink into nothing.
“Now this is a well-prepared photographer,” Sir Andrew said. “How many prophylactics do you have in this case? He expects to get lucky!”
“Hope blooms eternal,” I sighed.
“Happy hunting.”
He was off and started on the next case as we reviewed how each photographer was prepared. He tagged one person for not having power adapters, another for not having a strobe, and two for not having a cable release. He checked our film stock and by the end of the day, he’d also shown slides of different trips and location portraits he’d done.
“Now, how did I get all these pictures of me working in making portraits?” he asked. “That might be one of the most critical uses of your assistant. Always make sure he or she is equipped with a camera so he can take your picture while you are working. He’ll also have that camera available for you whenever you want a quick picture of a location or a person or a friend. Or your assistant. So, your assistant should carry your 35mm camera. It’s up to you as to whether it is loaded with black and white or color transparencies. You should have your medium format camera out and ready at all times. Your large format camera might never get unpacked on some days unless you’ve actually got an appointment for a portrait in advance.”
“Isn’t that true of all our lighting equipment, too?” Rohan asked.
“To a certain degree, yes, but if you find a situation and portrait subject that gives you time to be careful and set up, you will be surprised at how frequently power is available nearby. And you can get some amazing effects in places that might not otherwise have had enough light to shoot.”
We all repacked our cases with our assistants and divvied up the load. Jane carried my Nikon—which was loaded with Kodachrome, since I considered it more my tourist camera—and I carried the small case I usually carried over my shoulder on the plane. I didn’t want my Hasselblad hung around my neck getting bounced around and bumped up against things. Jane towed the trolley back to my room and walked right in with me.
“Should you be seen entering my room?” I asked as she shut the door.
“I think most of the assistants are meeting with their charges and preparing to go out to dinner. It’s a little early for dinner, so we have a chance to just sit and talk,” she said.
“Well, today was an interesting day,” I said. “If a little embarrassing.”
“At least now I know where the condoms are when we need one.”
“Are we likely to need one, Jane?” I asked.
“Unless you intend to marry me and help raise the next Lord Plympford, we’d better take precautions.”
She flopped on my bed, which was one of only two places to sit in the small room. I took the plastic chair in the corner.
“You know I always take precautions,” I said.
“Yes. Like sitting in a chair on the other side of the room for fear I’ll seduce you,” Jane laughed. “So much has happened this past year. I really want to catch up. Fortunately, we’ll have opportunities. I even plan to take you home to meet Lady Madeline Countess of Plympford.”
“Oh, dear. Will I meet the Earl as well?”
“I’ll take you to the cemetery. That was one of the unfortunate events of the past year. My father was in an accident and both he and his driver were killed.”
“I’m so sorry, Jane.”
“Thank you, Nate. It’s been a little difficult. Fortunately, mother is considerably younger than he was and has the management of the estate well under control. She has, however, encouraged me to find and marry a suitable candidate for the earldom. It’s not likely, really. I’m fortunate in that my father, with my mother’s consent, left me the holdings of the earldom with a reserve portion for the dowager countess. So, even if Mother finds a suitable man and marries him herself, he would gain her property but not much of the wealth. Even the castle and manor house are mine. My mother has lifelong tenancy. Her new husband would become an unlanded earl without an heir, if Her Majesty consented to that.”
“What a complicated thing to toss on you in a time of mourning.”
“I miss my father. He was kind and doted on me, suggesting that I follow my passion for photography. He even smiled when he saw the photo of me that you took—and then bid me put it away where he would never see his daughter in such a state again,” Jane laughed. “My mother has already hung the portrait in the library and has given me permission to welcome you at Plympford when you arrive.”
“That’s very nice of her,” I said.
“We saw your movie. Mother was very impressed.”
“Oh! I suppose I should have known it was released over here. It isn’t really my movie, though. I consulted on the photography aspects is all.”
“Anyone who knows you would still say it was your movie. Not about you, but I could see the mark of your photography. Your style. I think Sir Andrew has great hopes for you.”
“I hope I can live up to expectations. That seems to be more and more the case lately. I don’t know where people get the idea that I can do something or know something, but all of a sudden, I’m expected to live up to a reputation. If they knew how much film I waste to get a single shot, I’m sure the only ones who would be touting my ability are the film manufacturers who sell me all that film.”
“Nate, as a photographer, you aren’t particularly special. Anyone in this session, including all the assistants, could take pictures as good as yours,” Jane said. “But your photos are set apart by your vision. It isn’t the sharpness or clarity, the lens opening or shutter speed, it’s bringing out a secret connection with the model that sets your photos apart. As long as you keep revealing them as you do, you will be fine. That’s the only expectation that is set for you here. Sir Andrew will provide tips on where to find the shot, how to get the best photo, and who would make a good subject. But you will forge the connection, just as you did with me. And should others during this month also become your models, I’ll be no more possessive of you than Dale was in Australia.”
She held out her arms to me and I moved from the chair to the bed beside her. We held each other and kissed. We petted, but didn’t go overboard. Eventually, we pulled ourselves together and headed for an Indian curry house that was not far from the hotel for dinner.
We found Rohan, George, Brother Hector, and Helen already at the restaurant waiting for a table. Rohan quickly asked the hostess for a table for six instead of four, and we joined them.
“We eat a lot of curry in India, but it is a shame there aren’t more Indian restaurants in the UK that serve a wider variety of Indian food. We don’t only eat curry,” Rohan laughed. Nonetheless, we all had a delicious meal.
“How are you getting along?” Jane asked Brother Hector and Helen.
“I miss my robe,” Hector laughed. “I’m sure, though, that it would be a distraction in our studies and our purpose as photographers. When I get back to my room, I change to it immediately.”
“I thought… I’m sorry. This is an American image and I shouldn’t assume it of you. You’re wearing a little hat like I’ve seen pictures of, but you don’t have a beard. Don’t all the monks grow long beards?”
“There will be a time for that. I am still young. I haven’t taken vows or residency in a monastery yet, and may not,” Hector said.
“How do you get along with a woman for an assistant?” George asked.
“I love it! Helen is very pretty, if you hadn’t noticed.”
“Hector! Actually, though, I’m having a good time educating our Greek guest about western women. He’s shocked, I tell you. Shocked!”
“Don’t let her bug you, Hector,” Jane said. I noticed that after Helen dropped the honorific, so did Jane. I wondered if she’d be as cavalier if people dropped her ‘Lady.’ “Helen wore that miniskirt today specifically to torment you. It’s really too cold to go around bare.”
“Oh, I hope to see more of her,” Hector smiled. “I’m a photographer, no?”
“Speaking of which,” Rohan said, “will you and Nate be trying to take photos of nudes while you’re here?”
“If there’s that kind of opportunity, I suppose so,” I said.
“Yes. It all depends on the opportunity,” Hector agreed. “What do you think, Jane? You are both Nate’s and Sir Andrew’s assistant. Do you have an inside perspective on whether we’ll be shooting nudes?”
“Technically, portraiture and nudes are not the same thing. We are here to study portraiture. I will tell you, though, that when Nate takes my portrait at Plympford, I expect at least one will be nude. I’d personally be disappointed if it isn’t.”
“Wow! No offense, George, but Hector, would you share your assistant? I really don’t want to take nude photos of George,” Rohan said.
“Hey! I haven’t agreed to any nude photos,” Helen objected. “I’ll see if I can find a model for you.”
Our banter continued through the meal and we all headed back to the hotel, having learned a little more about the other attendees.
Sir Andrew didn’t waste any time getting us out of the studio. We had a heavy schedule of assigned portraits for the next two days, all in various locations around Oxford. Oxford is known for the university, comprising twenty or thirty colleges and houses. So, it was no wonder that we were led from one to another to take a portrait of a student or professor. They all wanted to have their caps and gowns on, so the whole thing was more an exercise in carting our equipment, getting set up quickly, and getting the picture.
On Friday, we developed film and printed our best portrait from the two days. Frankly, if my job was running around making portraits of old college guys, I’d die of boredom. I felt the most important thing was learning to work with Jane. She made a suggestion on my shot that really changed the way I looked at it and we got a terrific portrait of a professor of mathematics. Still, it was an old white guy in a cap and gown when it came down to it.
Then we had a weekend assignment. We were to find someone to convince to have a portrait made and take it wherever we could find that person. This is where our assistants also became our guides.
“Where are we going to find a willing model for a portrait?” I asked when we met for breakfast Saturday morning.
“London,” Jane said brightly. “Everything’s available in London.”
“Oh good. Maybe I can get a picture of London Bridge. My little girl would love to see what’s supposed to be falling down.”
“Only if you go to the American Southwest,” Jane replied.
“What?”
“Some billionaire mogul bought the bridge, disassembled it, and put it up out in the desert someplace. They’re building a new bridge here.”
“Well, that sucks.”
“Not so much. It was falling down. Besides which, you’re an American and were thinking of Tower Bridge, not London Bridge. We’ll definitely visit there. It’s always a good place to find tourists.”
We headed out, pulling my trolley, and caught a cab to the train station.
I didn’t have any great expectations for the day, but I was pretty excited to see London in the company of a cute girl who knew her way around. I couldn’t help it if I was a bit of a tourist. It was my first time in England.
Fortunately, Jane recognized that and humored me by taking me to all the normal tourist spots in the morning. She took me to Piccadilly Circus, Trafalgar Square, Big Ben, and Buckingham Palace. I even got a picture of a plaque on a door that said Charles Dickens had lived there. Great Expectations had been required reading in my sophomore English class in high school. I may have slept through most of the book.
We went into a pub near Soho Square called The Dog and Duck, where I had sausages and mash and a pint of ale. Jane joined and had a lentil cottage pie.
“This has been a fun morning,” I said. “I’ve taken a few photos of sights I’ve always wanted to see, and you’ve taken a few of me in those places. But I feel like we’ve been on more of a date than out fulfilling the assignment. Which, by the way, is fine with me. I really enjoy just being in your company.”
“Thank you. We can scarcely sleep together if we aren’t dating, can we?” she giggled. “But don’t worry about the assignment yet. The best places for finding our prey are prime in the afternoon. We’ll start the at the British Museum. We’ve been working our way toward there and it’s not far from here. I’ve found a lot of tourists there, many of whom are thrilled to pose while I take a picture of them on their cameras and then a few on mine.”
“That sounds interesting. I’ve always wanted to see the museum.”
“It’s only a few blocks from there to the school where I’m enrolled. And, it’s splash in the middle of all the major parks: Regent’s, St. James, and Hyde Park. If we don’t get to the Tower of London today, we’ll come back tomorrow. The parks, though, have a lot of places where tourists are more relaxed and more willing to have informal portraits where people can’t readily observe them.”
I wondered exactly what she meant by that since she seemed to have an evil glint in her eye.
“You know the places so well,” I said. “I can’t imagine having anyone else guiding my day.”
“Well, as you recall from Australia, location portraiture is kind of my specialty. I’ve studied with Sir Andrew for three years now and have had to do my share of finding models wherever I can.”
“Just don’t let me do things that are so similar to what you do that he’ll… I don’t know… assume they are yours,” I said.
“Our styles are so dissimilar that I doubt he will see anything of the sort, but I’ll let you know if it happens to be the exact same place as one of mine,” she laughed. We finished our meals and headed out to the British Museum.
Fortunately, the museum was so used to students coming in to practice their arts, that a cursory check of my bags was all that was needed to wave us in. There were artists seated in front of sculptures, painstakingly sketching them from different angles. You can see more Greek sculpture in the British Museum than in Greece, I was told. I had to smile since the costuming of the of the caryatids was so much like what I’d costumed Christine in for one of our first photo shoots. In fact, one of the statues had very prominent nipples poking through the dress.
“I’ll pose once or twice and you can take my picture in front of a statue. That’s always a good way to get other people to volunteer,” Jane said.
We found a very nice little statuette of a dancing woman. It was only about eighteen inches high. I had to be aware of exactly where my camera equipment was because it would be too easy for someone to walk off with something in this place. Jane stepped behind the statuette and took the same pose as the stone dancer. I used the Hasselblad to capture her in a couple of shots. A group of four young women, obviously together, stopped to watch. Then one turned to me.
“Would you take my picture like that?” she asked, holding out her camera.
“Of course, Miss uh…?”
“I’m Lettie. I’m on winter break from college and just had to come to England. It might be my last chance.”
“Well, Lettie, I hope it isn’t your last chance. I will be happy to take your picture, but would ask that in addition to your camera, you let me take your photo with mine. You see, I’m a photography student, and my assignment is to take an unusual portrait. Would you mind?”
“Oh! Cool! See? I told you he would!” she said to her companions.
Jane left the position in which she’d posed and came to guard my cases while I got Lettie positioned. I adjusted her position slightly and moved her arms into more of a dancer’s pose, then started taking pictures on the Hasselblad. I took half a dozen before I started taking any photos on her little camera. Like so many tourists, she was carrying one of the newer Kodak Instamatic cameras with a flash cube. I used the flash for one photo since I wasn’t sure how well this film would work in the comparably low-light situation.
Lettie started to leave the pose and I asked her to wait just a minute.
“How about a picture of you with your friends, all posed with the statue?” I suggested. “Kind of a chorus line.”
“Would you do that? Come on! I told you it would be okay!” Lettie said to her friends.
They all handed Jane their cameras so I could get photos with each of them. When they got in position, I went down the line shifting them a bit and making sure their hands were all in the same position. Then I went back and took pictures on the Hasselblad until the film ended. Jane handed the cameras to me one at a time and I took pictures for each of the girls.
“Would you all mind signing a release so I can show your pictures in my class? If it’s okay, all I need is your name, age, and signature. If you’d like me to send you a copy of my photo of you, I’ll need a mailing address,” I said.
“You’d send us one of your photos? You obviously have a much better camera than I do. I’ll sign the release,” Lettie agreed. She included her address in Wellesley, Massachusetts. The other girls just gave their names and signed the paper.
“I’m going to take some more pictures in the museum and you were all such great models, I’d love to include you in more of them.”
“Coolio!” Lettie agreed.
“Lettie! We’re supposed to go meet the guys now.”
“Oh, crap! You go ahead. I came to England to have an adventure, not just to hook up with some random dudes.”
The other three pulled her away, stopping just a few feet away to have a hushed but obviously heated conversation, while Jane handed me a fresh roll of film and marked my used film with time, date, and location. She smiled at me as she showed me the four signed releases. They were all over eighteen which was all I really cared about. I’d probably not use the group photos unless one really stood out. Lettie, though, had all the signs of a fun model to work with.
“If she comes back, we can take more time with the next photo and even set up a tripod and the 4x5 if you want to. I can set it up while you are working with her,” Jane said.
“I’m so glad you’ve done this before,” I said.
“I think you’d have done fine by yourself, but you couldn’t have carried so much equipment without an assistant. Be watchful for pickpockets and thieves. We were scoped by a guy a while ago.”
“Crap. If I was alone, they’d rob me blind, wouldn’t they?”
“Which means that if Lettie comes back and her friends don’t, we have a responsibility to get her to someplace safe before we leave her.”
“Right.”
Lettie did come back while her friends stalked off without her.
“I’m ready,” she said. “Where would you like me to pose next?”
“Let’s stroll over that direction,” I suggested. “I really want to get a great portrait of you. That means it won’t all be mimicking pieces of artwork. We might want to try you contemplating something. What really interests you?”
“Mmm. I’m kind of a jock. I don’t really fit with the other bitches who are on this trip. They all have money and connections and I got to the school because I’m a fast runner. We have a rowing team now and I love that.”
“Eights?” Jane asked.
“Oh! You’re English! I just assumed you were with Nate from America.”
“I’m officially his assistant for the class he is in. One person can’t possibly carry around all the equipment needed for doing location portraiture.”
“Cool! I row singles. Like with cross country, I prefer a sport that doesn’t depend on other people.”
“Is this like rowboat or canoe?” I asked. Both girls looked at me like I was an ignoramus—which I guess I was.
“Um… No. We race sculls. You could think of it as sitting on the water on one very long water ski and rowing like mad so you don’t sink,” Lettie said.
“I’d love to get a picture of that!” I said.
“Too cold here for rowing at the moment!” Jane said. “Come back in the summer.”
“Well, there’s a good athletic photo,” I suggested. “I don’t think you need to try to duplicate the pose though. Just start by examining the sculpture.”
The statue I directed her to, at the head of a short staircase, was called Discobolus, or the Discus Thrower. We all read the placard about it being a Roman copy of a much older Greek bronze that had long been lost. He was nude and in the process of spinning to throw the discus.
“I do like me a man with muscles,” Lettie sighed. I got a picture of her peering up at him and then around. “Somebody broke his dick off!” she said.
“That’s pretty common,” Jane said. “Most ancient sculptures got hit by ultra-conservative types of one religion or another. Did you notice that even some of the sculptures of women over in the Elgin Marbles had the nipples whacked off. It’s pretty disgusting.”
“I’ve met people back home that I’m sure would be all in favor of neutering any nude they saw,” I said. “I think it’s a disease that never goes away. Must censor everything to match my personal religious beliefs.”
I moved up to position Lettie where I wanted her for something more formal and thoughtful. She accepted my instruction and my moving her physically with no objections. I liked what she was wearing and wanted to find a nice place to take advantage of it in some way. It was a cowl-neck sweater and a nice mid-thigh skirt with high boots, almost up to her knees. This was a good photo, but it wasn’t what I wanted for her.
We walked through other exhibits and got to know each other better. Lettie was majoring in literature, which she said was not as odd for an athlete as some thought. We found an urn that was in incredible condition. It looked like it was brand new. Lettie stopped to admire it.
“They’re all naked and having sex,” she breathed. “Cool.”
She tugged at her sweater and it fell off her right shoulder. Hmm. No straps revealed. I didn’t think she was wearing a bra, but I hadn’t really been checking.
“That’s very sexy,” I said. “Let’s hold that for a really good shot with the 4x5.”
Jane was in action at once with a tripod and my Linhof. It took about two minutes to have it set up. She handed me a film carrier and I checked the ground glass for focus and composition. Over the past half an hour, Lettie had really gotten into the poses and this was no exception. The sweater off the shoulder was very sexy and I composed the first shot full length, showing her miniskirt and boots. I had her do a little presentation pose like she was presenting a prize on a TV game show. She gave me a winning smile and I had to wonder how a girl who supposedly wasn’t one of the rich bitches at her school got teeth so straight and white.
I flipped the film carrier and moved in closer, having her head and shoulders in the shot with the vase. I went to her and touched her bare shoulder to reposition her slightly, as I stroked her lips into just the subtle smile I wanted for this one. I took the second frame.
I glanced around to see what was close so we didn’t need to break down the equipment now that we had it set up.
“Let’s do another mimic pose with that bust over there,” I said, pointing to a nicely preserved and more contemporary bust of a woman.
We moved over, carrying the 4x5 on its tripod. Lettie stood staring at the statue as if she was absorbing it. I quickly saw why. Bust was the operative word. The woman’s robe fell off her left breast.
“Um… You don’t need to…”
“No. It’s okay. Just… um… time it so there aren’t a hundred people watching,” Lettie said. Okay then.
I got set up as she continued to study the bust. Something from the eighteenth century, by a guy named Townley, it said. When I thought we had the composition correct, I went up to Lettie and started adjusting her position. I had a hand on her bare shoulder as I shifted her chin as well.
“I often do photos like this,” I said. “There’s nothing to worry about. It looks like we suddenly have this gallery to ourselves. Are you okay?”
“I can do it. Go ahead and, um… put my sweater where you want it.”
“Hold just like you are for a minute while I make sure the camera is ready and focused. Then I’ll be back.”
I checked through the ground glass and had an exquisite composition of her in front of the statue. The statue would be softly blurred as she was crisply focused. I went back to her.
“Okay. No one’s around. Keep your face pointed slightly down, toward Jane’s foot. Are you ready?”
“Yes,” she squeaked.
I pulled at her sweater, guiding it down under her left breast with my hand softly caressing her. She heaved a sigh. I rushed back to the camera and took the first picture. I flipped the film carrier and opened the lens further, then tripped the second exposure. I hurried back to her and pulled her sweater back up over her breast. She looked up at me and collapsed against me.
I just held her for a moment.
“What a rush!” she whispered. “Let’s find another one!”
We didn’t spend much more time in the museum. We packed up the equipment and went to Hyde Park. We found a place on the Serpentine near the statue of Peter Pan that was pretty sheltered. Jane collected Lettie’s boots and skirt, then when I got her positioned with one foot in the water, and focused the 4x5, I took her sweater. I spent a moment just caressing her pretty boobs, but then rushed to the camera and took the pictures.
I got back to her with her sweater and when I’d gotten it on her, she pulled me in for a kiss with my hand under her sweater to continue caressing her.
“Would it be safe to screw out here?” she gasped as I stroked across her panties.
“No, I think not. And you are supposed to meet your friends for dinner in half an hour. We need to get you put back together.”
Jane handed me her skirt and I ‘helped’ her into it, continuing to spend time kissing and petting her boobs, her bottom, and her pussy.
“Oh, man! This is the highlight of my trip. I can’t believe I have to go back to Boston Monday. You could have me anytime tomorrow.”
“I think my schedule tomorrow is filled. I’ll contact you when we’re back stateside and send you the photos. We got some good ones. I never expected to get so lucky as to find such a great model for my portraits.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to join me for the rest of the night? You could get a lot luckier.”
“Thank you for the invitation, but I think Jane has plans for me. Let’s go get a cab and we’ll drop you at the restaurant.”
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
