I lowered myself to the depths of embarrassment recently. With all the gumption I could muster, I invested $9.95 into a disposable camera.
It wasn’t by accident, I can assure you. It was a well-calculated and desperate move on my part from which I had no other recourse.
The purchase came in Newport, R.I., home of the accidental tourist where photography is a way of life in capturing life’s precious moments.
I had come totally unprepared, leaving my equipment back home.
You’re looking at someone who happens to be a photographer by design, someone who owns an entire arsenal of cameras and equipment. I earned my living from pictures.
If working as a photojournalist for a paper didn’t suffice, I extended my energy to include weddings and anything else that would fatten my wallet.
At one time when I had installed a darkroom in the house, my wife resigned herself into becoming a photographer’s widow. She accused me of being a groundhog.
One day she told me, “If you come out of your hole and see your shadow, that’s three more months of hard winter.”
So why all this hullabaloo about a throw-away camera? It was a matter of ethics.
“You’re not bringing cameras along,” she mandated, laying down the law. “This is no workingman’s holiday. We’re going on a get-away and that’s that. You’re supposed to be retired and all you do is work.”
It’s true. My columns continue and my photography is more active than ever, especially with two junkets to Armenia and other ports of call.
She has every right to complain. I’m my own worst enemy when it comes to vacations. I’ve been known to pull my car over in traffic to capture a photo opportunity. I have climbed trees and dangled out of buildings to land the right shot.
It’s the adventurer in me. If I see a seagull perched upon a wharf post, I must play every angle and make sure the sun is in the correct spot. If it’s during the night shift, I pull out a tripod and get right down to business.
Having turned digital has only heightened the interest.
I love taking pictures and often display my own work. It’s the work of others I often find tedious and uneventful. The height of ecstasy for me is a neighbor who takes a thousand images of his trip without removing the lens cap.
So there we were at Newport, meandering the streets of this resort area which is known for its opulent mansions and dream-like vessels. All was going well until we stumbled upon a fishery with boats pulling into harbor and crewmen coming forth with the day’s catch.
There were subjects everywhere, worthy to be captured for my portfolio. Oh, how I longed for a camera. The thirst was unquenchable as I saw one possibility after another unfold before my eyes.
There were artisans pursuing their craft, children with cherub-looking faces, elderly in a gracious spirit.
My only recourse was an instant camera that would do the job. I mean, how bad can a disposable really be? Others have used it with marginal success. All I wanted was something to record the moment.
My opportunity arose when the wife suddenly excused herself to visit a dress shop. “Don’t get lost,” she said. “I’ll only be a minute.”
Knowing I had at least an hour, I noticed a camera shop nearby and moved surreptitiously. All that nonsense you hear about disposable cameras were suddenly laid to rest.
The clerk had a number of them on display. Some came with a built-in flash for indoor use. I selected a multi-faceted one for outdoor shots as well. You might say I bit the bullet.
“Look,” he told me. “It’s the film, not the camera. This is just the type you would use in any ordinary film camera.”
I shelled out the money and dashed out, sticking the entire works into my pocket. It fit snug. I couldn’t do this with any other camera.
In the time it took my shopping guru to return, I had reeled off 28 shots. Just point and shoot. Simple as that. The camera was idiot-proof.
“What’s that bulging from your pocket?” asked the wife.
“Oh, nothing, just my hands,” I replied sheepishly, sticking my fingers inside. They remained inside my shorts until we arrived back at the hotel. From there, the camera went straight to my toiletries bag.
I must say, the results were better than I had anticipated—crisp, colorful, and well concealed. I had everything I needed to show my friends and not one of them asked what kind of camera I used.
Tom Vartabedian
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