Back The Photographer
Chapters (26)
  1. Copyright Notice
  2. Dedication
  3. CHAPTER ONE
  4. CHAPTER TWO
  5. CHAPTER THREE
  6. CHAPTER FOUR
  7. CHAPTER FIVE
  8. CHAPTER SIX
  9. CHAPTER SEVEN
  10. CHAPTER EIGHT
  11. CHAPTER NINE
  12. CHAPTER TEN
  13. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  14. CHAPTER TWELVE
  15. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  16. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  17. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  18. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  19. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  20. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  21. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  22. FIVE YEARS LATER
  23. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  24. More Praise for The Photographer
  25. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  26. Newsletter Sign-up

The very last photo spread in their book surprised me the most: pictures of a one-bedroom apartment on the garden floor of their building—as captivating as the rest of the house, with the same aesthetic and flawless execution.

I hadn’t known such an apartment existed.

Friday arrived. I had a nervous stomach and couldn’t eat breakfast or lunch. At 4 P.M., I allowed myself to begin preparations for the evening. My outfit for babysitting Natalie had a specific set of demands, distinct from what was required as a photographer. My clothing needed to say “responsible, mature, ebullient, and charming.” These parents were leaving their child alone in my care. I was required to be a reliable adult, but one that connected to children, an adult with a sense of fun and vivacity. I chose a pair of dark jeans, my leather boots, a thin sweater, and a sparkly necklace—one I felt certain that Natalie would like.

I maintained a decent wardrobe because I’d always considered my clothing a business expense. I recognized that my appearance mattered, especially when photographing at the home of an affluent family. I didn’t want to attract too much attention. However, I needed to look like I belonged in the home and was comfortable in the setting. In a service role, yes. But a level above the people who were preparing and serving the food. Two levels above the people who were cleaning and washing dishes. The parents liked to view me as an almost peer. Most of them would never choose to socialize with me. Nevertheless, if we ended up in conversation, I could hold my own, and they would find the conversation pleasant enough.

My clients probably assumed that my education and breeding were not up to theirs. And was that true? It depends on how such things are defined. Yes, I attended college, but a mediocre one. Not to say that I wasn’t educated. An autodidact, I read incessantly and processed images incessantly. In one image, I could extract more information than many people could extract from an entire book. I could look at a photograph of a group of people and, with surprising accuracy, detail the relationships among the various parties.