It All Started with a Lie
When I was but a young lad, I explored nearly every type of art that existed. Water colors, oil paints, sculpting, poetry, music, performance. You name it, I wanted to try it. So when I came upon the photography class that was offered in high school, I was eager to try my hand at that. The problem was that it was a very popular course and would fill up each year. I had to devise a plan that would allow me to participate in the class before my senior year, just in case I wanted to take it for more than one year.
The following may sound bold, and even a little crazy, but it is the truth.
I approached the class instructor directly. ( Mr Hailier if memory serves), Not to ask him if there was a way that he could move me up the line so I could take the class, I took an entirely unique approach. I convinced him that he was overworked. That because the class was so popular, he needed a knowledgeable assistant or lab tech to decrease his daily burden. Someone to help him with the monotonous chores like mixing the chemistry or setting up the darkroom, or even just cleaning the lab. Since I had been doing photography for years, but didn’t have my own darkroom, I would gladly help him out in exchange for lab access.
It was a perfect exchange of services and skills. Except for one small point: I had never even touch a 35mm camera in my life. Let alone, mixed any chemistry or run a darkroom. But he didn’t know that.
So when he agreed, I immediately went to my friend and neighbor who had taken the course and asked him to teach me everything he knew about cameras and film. I also went to the library and studied books on film processing and print making. The next step was to go to the lab early so I could learn how to mix the chemistry all on my own.
This was the best education I could ask for. Everything I needed was placed at my fingertips. The cameras, the film, the chemistry. All of it was easily at hand. With no specific rules to follow. And most important was the fact that I had given myself a reputation that I needed to live up to. So I studied hard. I learned more in two weeks that most students would absorb after two semesters. I became so proficient that other students in the class would come to me with their projects to ask how to properly expose for the shots, or how to dodge and burn, or what was the best developer to use for their desired results. I bet if it was not for that little lie that I told, than photography would have ended up being another form of art that I played around with, instead of becoming my chosen career.
It wasn’t until years later, after I had graduated The Art Center College of Design, that I met up with my old high school instructor and shared the truth with him. I was of drinking age by then, so we shared some whiskey, laughed, and then reviewed some beautiful photo coffee table books he had. I wish he was still around so we could laugh about this again.
