For all your awkward group photo needs

One of my side gigs – as in it doesn’t pay cash money – is taking winners’ photographs at an annual awards banquet. The event features many engineers, music, a speech here and there, and some cool costumes.

Oh yeah. And a bar.

I’ve been taking these shots for three years in a row. Apparently the organization called the Consulting Engineers of Alberta has not yet figured out that I have no clue what I’m doing. It is, in fact, only because of a multimedia dude named Vince, his technical wizardry and his awesome equipment that I do not fail spectacularly.

Don’t tell the consulting engineers, but group shots are not my forte. Neither are head-and-shoulders shots nor any shot that falls into the category Grip-’n’-Grin.

The only editor I ever had before becoming one myself will confirm this for you, if it is really necessary that you hear it from an unbiased source. Brian Malone would tell you, if you were to ask, that I have the uncanny ability to make any posed photograph so uncomfortable for the subjects that they end up looking like stilted aliens about to be prodded and probed by the military.

Or like plants on the verge of death by dehydration. Or very sad mannequins.

This is, as they say, a rare talent indeed.

When I joined Brian to round out the Lacombe Globe’s all-star newsroom team, he had sometime earlier fashioned himself a mug shot studio from string, cardboard, aluminum foil and a black curtain that doubled as the door to the darkroom. All you had to do to get the perfect photo was set your subject on a stool and your camera on a tripod, tilt the foil-covered cardboard away from the wall, point your flash at it, say “say cheese!” and click your shutter.

Voila.

There were a few potential pitfalls, however. You had to tilt the cardboard at exactly the right angle and aim the flash in exactly the right direction, neither of which I would master. I was also not very good at getting folks to relax or at reminding 250-lb. Marcel in the darkroom to stay put and not knock over the mayor or whoever my current victim was.

I lacked confidence in my tools. My subjects lacked confidence in me. And everyone adopted an expression of having survived torture, which was close to the truth and came through loud and clear in the head-and-shoulders photos I took.

This was not what my editor was looking for.

Away from the technological wonder that was Brian’s mini-studio, I often took photos of groups of people. Those in the front row looked like they were witnessing the explosion of the sun. The middle folks were covered in shadows. And denizens of the back row were underexposed beyond recognition.

I briefly shot weddings, too. What exactly made me think I would be good at this? No one knows for sure. Youthful bravado, perhaps. Or the sincere belief my crappy photo days were behind me, to the benefit of those on either side of my lens.

The good news is that few of the marriages survived. Who, really, needs poorly shot photographic reminders of their romantic failings?

How all this led to my annual duty for the Consulting Engineers of Alberta is difficult to reckon. The CEA was desperate. I was cheap. Who knows?

Anyway, the photos are getting progressively better. Brian Malone, if you are reading this, I kid you not.

Vince is always there to keep me on track. Plus he has this gigantic flash, with one of those umbrella-shaped reflectors fashion photographers use.

This year, we had a minor glitch. Vince asked me to check my camera’s histogram on a particular exposure. “My hieroglyphics?” “Histogram.” “Hysterectomy?” “Histogram.” “Hypo-allergens?” “Histogram.” “Listen, Vince,” I said. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I am an f-8-and-be-there kinda guy. The camera’s f-stop is set at eight. I am here. The rest is luck.”

But everything worked out. The lighting was perfect, showering my subjects with a soft, shadowless glow. The golden fabric background did not distract – no picture frames or fronds jutted from people’s heads.

I oozed confidence. I even had a sponsor for my end of the big show – a bank, of all things. Perhaps its cheque is in the mail.

My subjects were relaxed and even I couldn’t transform them into stiff aliens. The recognition of their peers no doubt helped. Along with the cocktail or two many of them had consumed.

Yes, I am stoked and ready for any posed-shot challenge the world has to offer. An upcoming wedding in your family, perhaps?

George Lee lives, writes, edits and fails to fully understand his camera in Edmonton. Reach him at piecesofgeorge@featureswest.com.