I’m not going to put on any airs about being a professional, or possessing expertise, or knowing how to do photography right – I see a wide variety of skills, occasionally offer small pointers when I think it will be well-received, and don’t otherwise concern myself with it too much.
There’s a limit, however. When a friend comes to visit, one who has been shooting longer than I have, that routinely visits places like Belize and the Alps, and her most treasured travel accoutrement is a selfie-stick… well, it’s hard to keep the bile from rising.
And then – and then – she’s like, “No, c’mon, get your hand out of the way, I want a picture of us together!” No, seriously, don’t ask me to take part in this horror. I hadn’t even grabbed my hat so I could shield half of my face in deep shadow. And look! Look! She’s got a real camera right there! I can’t deal…
No, the proportions can not be credited to horrendous smutphone lenses – she’s average size, but I really am a hulking huge mass. She held the camera up high just to get both of our heads in the frame, since I’m two feet taller than her. The placement of the sign in the background is also all hers.
I imagine it’s akin to high school English teachers looking at the social media of their students a few years after graduation. “‘Your not coming’? ‘Shouldn’t of’? ‘Bigger then that’? I’m wasting my life…”