Here’s this week’s photo prompt from Creative Writing Ink. Pun intended, I wanted to try and write this from a different angle.
Everyone’s a photographer these days aren’t they? Anyone who’s got a mobile phone becomes David Bailey in his spare time – or Annie Leibovitz depending on your persuasion. Of course Mario Testa’s the undisputed God of the shutter-world if you ask me. But no-one ever does. Ask me, I mean.
You don’t even need a zoom lens these days to get a decent shot from a distance. Not that you can add that to your regular mobile phone even if you wanted to. No, armed with the simple appendage of your common-or-garden mobile telecommunications device, the world – the creative, artistic, voyeuristic world is at anyone’s – everyone’s – disposal. Yours and, yes… drum roll please, no, no autographs… thank you… mine. It’s especially mine.
The police think they’ve got it all sewn up, don’t they? These Scene of Crime Officers (SOCO – you’ve heard the term bandied about on those police procedural dramas on the telly) they cordon off the place … run tape around the area they don’t want contaminated with extraneous detritus which could easily take their investigation down the wrong route. And then they start dusting… inspecting, poking with toothpicks so as not to dislodge delicate evidence; they walk about with masks over their mouths, plastic bags covering their feet, a white baby-gro covering their entire bodies – ensuring nothing leaves them that might pollute the scene of the crime.
Then they start clicking away. One angle, another angle. Another. Close-ups: from below, beside, inside, above – a shot from back there – another over here and, oh, let’s get one or two of the officers going about their business as well, shall we? To have a laugh with over a pint at the pub later when their shift’s over and no, they haven’t got any leads just yet, but they really need some alcohol and social interaction to wind down after such an exhausting day. Oh look, there’s one of Graeme picking his nose near the body. That one’s gonna have to go up in the rogues gallery. We’ll wait til the suspect’s been caught first though – we’re nothing if not respectable, us coppers.
There’s one photograph they won’t have, though. One I’m willing to bet they’d kill for (an in-joke only a few could appreciate) or give their eye-teeth for at least: the last one. The last photograph. The one where the subject feels so at ease, so totally relaxed – excited even – that here they are in the presence of tomorrow’s Mario Testa/Annie Leibovitz/insert suitable icon – and they’ve been invited to this plush hotel suite, given a nice chilled drink and encouraged to just relax, be as natural as possible, because they have that rare quality – an intangible beauty which shines effortlessly from within; something which very few possess – and then you can start clicking away.
One from this angle, one from another. Wait while I stand up here and get an overhead shot. Okay, and just walk. Walk away, and NOW – turn – no, just your head… that’s right – and look, look back – stare – straight into the lens and….that’s it, lovely, lovely – beautiful. And now… I know – let’s just drip this round your neck – I know it’s stunning, right? Yes, priceless. No, no, I can’t tell you how much but the client’s had it well insured, so we needn’t worry if it snags on your jumper. No, no, that’s fine. Just unclip the latch and… okay then, just slip it over…. That’s right. That’s perfect.
And it is. Perfect. She’s happy, relaxed; excited even that she could be the next Marie Helvin, Heidi Klum; Claudia Schiffer. She’s probably got so much adrenaline running through her scrawny, hungry-for-five-minutes-of-fame body that I could let the life in her drain much slower than I do and she still wouldn’t feel a thing. Vanity has medicinal properties. And actually, now I mention it, I might try taking it slower in future. Because I do take pride in my work and it’d be good to savour it more.
Oh you needn’t worry; I always leave their faces intact. I’d never disfigure beauty. I’m not a completely heartless bitch.