Say Cheese

“Some people say that photographs steal your soul.” Darryl Martin said adjusting the height of his Bogen tripod. Darryl was especially proud of this particular piece of equipment. He owned some of the finest cameras, lens, filters and lighting money could buy. His tripod, however, was where everything happened. Moments happen in front of a camera and, as cameras come and go, the tripod is there for them all. Many souls passed before Darryl's Bogen. 

“Its one of the more sensible superstitions, if there is such a thing,” Darryl screwed a sleek Nikon to the foot. “Before the camera, mirrors were believed to reflect the soul. So it stands to reason that since cameras capture your reflection..., you see where I'm going with this.” 

Darryl twisted a long lens onto the camera body. He picked up a small box with rows of colored glass filters and chose one. A faint rainbow shifted on its surface as he turned it back and forth in the light. 

"I prefer the old photography techniques; filters, film back cameras and hand film processing. Digital lets you produce faster, cheaper and more varied image options with little or no wasted materials, but I don't like it. When you become too dependant on a technology, you lose the soul of the work. When the camera and computer do everything, the process becomes less a showcase of skill and more an equipment demonstration. When you remove the process, anyone can be a photographer, but no one could do what I can do. Young people don't seem to have any respect for processes anymore." 

“Have you ever noticed that there are no mirrors at funerals? Its a carry over from the superstition. Its to keep souls from getting trapped accidentally. Funny they allow cameras, though. If they only knew what I know.” 

Darryl tidied up his equipment boxes and placed them safely out of his work path. He kicked the corner of the canvas backdrop, knocking into a more satisfying crumple. He turned to face his subject; a young woman in her late twenties. He checked composition through the traditional rectangle formed by touching thumbs to index fingers. He paused briefly to brush a stray piece of her bright red hair back into place. He checked the gag, and tugged her bonds. 

“Cameras are just sophisticated mirrors, really. And mirrors really do reflect the soul. I know, I know, seems silly but I can assure you its true. And cameras really do steal the soul. Now I don't mean your typical family photographs or little snaps you take for Facebook, though I'm convinced you lose some of your soul when you sign up." 

"In order for it to steal your soul, you have to die. Sorry for that.” Darryl pulled a shiny Smith and Wesson .38 from his pants pocket. 

The young woman struggled weakly. Darryl had put just enough arsenic in her complimentary beverage to keep her still. One of the benefits of developing your own film, was the unrestricted access to certain chemicals. 

He stepped back to the camera and with his free hand screwed on a remote cable. He had a fancy infrared remote, but he liked the feel of the cable. He felt a sense of connection as the soul passed into his camera. 

He checked composition and focus one last time. He made a slight adjustment to one of the studio lights. Satisfied, he looked back at his subject.

"Don't worry, you won't be lonely for long. I have a full day booked."

Slowly, he leveled the gun at his subject.

“Say cheese.”