Pictures.

Tanja had the non-sarcastically brilliant idea to toddle down to the Museum of Contemporary Art for the Annie Leibovitz exhibition. After queueing for about 15 minutes, we arrived at... a second queue. Then we got in. The photos were amazing, with huge photos covering half the wall, as well as a sort of tunnel that showcased everything she had collected for the show in small scale. On show were all sorts of photos: her portraits of musicians (like the White Stripes, which managed to look both staged and snapped in-the-moment; and Willie Nelson, who resembled nothing more than an Indian Head penny; Iggy Pop, muscular & cadaverous), actors (Al Pacino resembling Napoleon in bare feet; Jim Carrey making faces and roaring at the world), heads of state (The Queen, removed from her usual setting, making her a monarch unadorned & out of time, but a monarch nonetheless; the Bush administration, particularly John Ashcroft (no link, sadly), whose portrait had him off to the side on a white background, with have the set in view, including a secret service agent and an American flag, tucked away like a forgotten heirloom), her partner of many years Susan Sontag (who died of cancer), and perhaps my favourite, many photos of her extended family, particularly elderly folks and children, most candid snaps.

It was extremely crowded. Not "I can't move" crowded, but the more subtle kind of crowded where each time you stopped to read or look at something, you would amass a small collection of people who would hover at your elbow, just behind you, or off to the side, so that when you decided to move again, you'd nearly trip over them, or they'd catch your elbow or something. This stressed me. The stressing was increased by the fact that I had neglected to bring my glasses. Normally, that would not be an issue, my being only a little nearsighted, but all of the writing was small, so I had to get within a few feet of the wall, or I wouldn't be able to read it. Also, through the entire event I was composing this post in my head, and as such wanted to take a quick picture of how crowded it was. I took out my phone in an out of the way corner, as I didn't want to make it look like I was taking photos of the art. I saw a guy with a ponytail glace at me, and I quickly put my phone away. I then noticed that Ponytail had his own iPhone out, and was checking Facebook. "Oh," said I "he must not work here." But no sooner did I take out my camera and snap a quick photo, than he apporached me and told me that no pictures were allowed. I tried to say that I just wanted to show how crowded it was, but he would have none of it. I did get a photo, though not a good one:

So anywho, this exhibit got me thinking. Not thinking; yearning. I yearn to take photos of people again. Candid photos, staged photos, whatever. I want to be able to capture the look on someone's face; the intent in their eyes. I want to photograph them, warts and all. It's the same kind of feeling I got after I got my Flip video camera, and realised that the easiest way to get people to not act naturally, was to point a camera at them. No one will let me. Not at all. I content myself with taking quick snaps on my phone, but really, I'm filling up on bread, and it's starting not to satisfy me. I've ruminated on this subject before. But it still bothers me. I think I may have put my finger on a portion of what bugs me today.

When someone takes a photo of me, be it one where I look good, or one where I look bad, I know it is a photo of me. It may not be a photo I like, but it is an accurate representation of how I look from that particular angle at the specific moment. It's true. People who give the "Oh, I look stupid in that one/all those photos" are implying that the photo is somehow a lie or a trick, imposed by the photographer to ruin their self-image, and the image held by others. Maybe Facebook is to blame, what with the ability to untag photos so only you get to choose what appears when someone searches you.

However, telling someone, especially a female someone, when they say "Oh, that's a terrible photo!" that "Hey, that's how you looked like in that moment." does not help.