Chapter 29: Location Portraiture

I BREEZED THROUGH CUSTOMS at Heathrow Airport. I think Adrienne’s advice on how to dress was the key. I saw another guy with long hair dressed in jeans and a T-shirt get pulled over and all his bags opened and inspected. Hope he wasn’t carrying any drugs.

Adrienne had also given me written instructions on how to get to my hotel. It involved getting some cash changed to British pounds and then buying a ticket for the train into London, which first required a bus ride for some distance from the airport. People were talking about the desirability of rail connections directly from the airport into London, but nobody was doing anything about it. From there, I transferred to a train out to Oxford. Just having that name appear on my resume would open doors, I knew, even though the British Arts Academy technically had nothing to do with Oxford University.

I got my first ride in a black cab from the train station to the little bed and breakfast on the north side of town—an area called Summertown. It was a good thing I got a cab. By the time I got to the hotel, I was practically asleep. Fortunately, the hosts at this place were expecting the students to arrive and I was able to go straight to my room. I asked if I could get a wake-up call at five o’clock, and they smiled and said someone would come around to ‘knock me up.’

I stripped out of my clothes and collapsed on the bed—asleep by the time my head hit the pillow.

Getting knocked up turned out to be having someone pound on my door until I actually went to the door and assured him I was awake. I used the bathroom and washed my face, then dressed for dinner. At six o’clock, I was in the lobby and was immediately greeted by Lady Jane. There were several others standing in a group, so I was circumspect in my greeting.

“Lady Jane, it is so nice to see you again.”

She grabbed me and kissed me on both cheeks, so I guess my offered hand was too formal.

“Nate! I’m glad you accepted the invitation to participate here,” she said.

“Location work is definitely a weakness of mine. I’m looking forward to this,” I said.

“Sir Andrew completely changed the way I look at the subject,” she said. “You’ll love it. Speaking of whom, he’s just arrived.”

“Greetings to all of you,” Sir Andrew announced as soon as he’d arrived. No individual handshakes or introductions. “This three-week photography session will take you to places you never dreamed of going. The first is the Four Arms, where we’ve a room awaiting us and dinner. You’ve come from different parts of the world, so we’ll make it a short evening and be ready to start creating portraits tomorrow morning. This way, if you would, please.”

He turned and walked back out the door. The dozen of us in the lobby immediately followed him out. We walked about three blocks up a rather busy street with Sir Andrew leading the way and never looking back to see if we were following.

The Four Arms was a pub that looked very similar to the one we frequented in Stratford, Ontario, but a plaque by the door indicated it had been established in 1694 under a charter by King William III and Queen Mary II. I didn’t think Stratford had been founded yet. America was still just a baby then.

“Ah! Now we are in a familiar setting and can relax and get to know each other,” Sir Andrew said when we were seated at a large round table and served beers. He raised his, so we followed suit. “Here is to an engaging and educational institute, learning from each other and making portraits of people in their natural surroundings. I am Sir Andrew Scott and will facilitate your learning this month. As you look around the table, you see a dozen others. Our class is divided with six graduate or near graduate level students who are officially attending and participating in the workshop. With you are six undergraduates who have been assigned as your assistants. While they will help you set your shots, carry your equipment, and make sure you have what you need, they are also here to learn. Get to know them well and you will make a mighty team. Let’s start with introductions, shall we?”

At that point, Sir Andrew was seated and pointed to the first person on his left. Jane was on his right and I was next to her. The fellow stood to introduce himself.

“I am Rohan Das of Calcutta, West Bengal in India. You would only know of my town from the musical Oh! Calcutta! which had absolutely nothing to do with Calcutta, India. But we do have beautiful people and I look forward to learning how to make better portraits of them.”

That was cool, I was going to meet people from around the world again. The guy next to him stood.

“I am George Rexford of Liverpool. You know of that as the birthplace of the Beatles. Yes, I have seen them live. I’m assigned as Rohan’s assistant and I think I’ll learn from him as well.”

“I am Brother Hector Costas,” the next guy said. “I am from Kalambaka in Central Greece and am studying photography in Athens. You would not have heard of my village, but it is central to the area known as The Meteora, which has great columns of rock on the tops of which are located several monasteries. I am dressed today in a Western suit and tie, but my normal mode of clothing would be a straight black robe.”

Wow! This was going to be an interesting group.

“I’m Helen Adams,” said the rather petite young woman next to Brother Hector. “I was born and raised here in Oxford as my father is a professor. I know this area pretty well from years of exploring and hiding in the various colleges. Brother Hector has consented to let me be his assistant and I’m very much looking forward to working with him.”

I’d assumed that the women were all student photographers, but apparently, they had female assistants, too. I wondered why she hadn’t been assigned as the assistant to a woman like Lady Jane. Next to her was another woman who stood.

“I am Gretchen Fackler. I am from München, Deutschland—or Munich, Germany, as you would say. My father makes cameras and I grew up around them. In September, our city will host the Summer Olympics. I hope to make portraits of athletes there.”

“I am Rolf Decker. I am also from Munich, but I moved here to study art at the Academy two years ago. I am happy that Gretchen has consented to have me as her assistant, a role I thought I left behind when I left Munich.”

That got us to the point that food was being served and we interrupted the introductions to start eating.

“Should I have sat somewhere else so you had your assistant beside you? I don’t even know who mine is,” I whispered to Jane.

“The assistants all knew where to sit. You’re in the right place,” she answered.

“Um ... But who’s my assistant?”

“I am, birdbrain.”

“Aren’t you taking the course?”

“I’ve taken it. You have to share me as your assistant and Sir Andrew’s assistant.”

“So cool!”

“Just behave in public. Got it?”

“Got it.”

Before dessert, we found out the names of the remaining students. Loren Evars was from Sydney, Australia. He was actually a student at RMIT in Melbourne where we’d studied last year. His assistant was Don McIntyre from Aberdeen, Scotland.

The last of the students, other than myself, was Skylar Muldar from Johannesburg, South Africa. I wondered if something nefarious was being set up when Dee Washington was introduced as his assistant. Dee was a black woman from Miami, Florida who had been studying in the UK this year. I already disliked Skylar, just because he was from South Africa. I disciplined myself to reject that feeling. It was just as prejudiced of me as apartheid was. It was Dee who had a ‘right’ to be upset with him and she seemed to be making the best of it.

I managed to get a cup of coffee and light my pipe as most of the others at the table had after dinner drinks and lit cigarettes. After Lady Jane introduced herself, Sir Andrew stood.

“I would like us to get an informal portrait now,” he said. “Would all the photographers simply turn and take a photograph of your assistants.”

I immediately turned to Jane and smiled as I pulled the lens cover off my Nikon.

“I get to start with a picture of you,” I said. “How perfect is that?”

Jane was grinning way beyond what I thought the situation merited as I focused and gave her a count before I snapped the photo. When I turned to the table, I saw why. I was the only one who had a camera out.

“Um ... Was this supposed to be a Simon Says moment?” I asked.

“No,” Sir Andrew said. “You carried out the assignment perfectly. I wonder where the other cameras are.”

There was a quick murmur around the table as people said they didn’t know they were supposed to bring a camera.

“A camera is an extension of a photographer. A photographer should always be prepared to make a photograph. An assistant to a photographer has one job above all others—make sure your photographer has everything he or she needs,” Sir Andrew said. That was going to make me a lot of friends. “Frankly, Nate surprised me. I didn’t think any of you had a camera with you. It was supposed to be my first lesson. Jane?”

“No sir. I didn’t say a word to him. He had his camera when he arrived in the lobby of the hotel. Believe me, sir, it’s the kind of guy he is.”

There was a bunch of nervous laughter.

“Okay. Location portraiture will sometimes be planned out in advance. You will have a client and the client will ask you to come to his or her home to photograph him with his piano or hereditary suit of armor, or behind his desk in an office, or next to a flag showing how patriotic he is. But for most of this three-week workshop, we will be working with spontaneous location photography. You’ll see an old woman feeding pigeons and ask if you can take her picture. You’ll encounter a group of tourists trying to take their own photograph and you’ll volunteer to photograph them if you can take a picture or two on your own camera as well. You will need to be ready to get a perfect professional portrait at any time.”

“Sir Andrew, who is to blame for us not having a camera with us?” Loren asked.

“Fixing blame? I don’t think so. I don’t blame you or your assistants for not knowing something I hadn’t taught you yet. Nate, why were you prepared to take a picture?”

“I guess because I’m a tourist and I thought I’d see something to shoot for a memento,” I said.

“You see? He wasn’t really prepared either. Tomorrow, that will change. Your assistants will meet you for breakfast in the morning and will assist you in carrying your equipment to the Academy. We will begin at nine o’clock. My assistant will pay for all that has been served so far. If you want more to drink, you cover the bill yourself. I’m finished for this evening, though, and am returning to my wife and my warm bed. Goodnight.”

Most of us were still pretty jetlagged and were ready to head back to the hotel. I just hoped I’d be able to sleep and get up in the morning. Now it was just a little after noon in Chicago. I wanted to call home and let everyone know I was safe and sound in Oxford.

Jane, of course, had the funds to pay for our evening dinner and drinks. I waited for her and we walked back to the hotel together. Just before we got there, Jane paused and looked around before pulling me into an alley.

“You’ve behaved yourself very well in public,” she whispered. “Perhaps you could behave a little more recklessly for a few minutes and kiss me.”

I gladly complied with her suggestion and we got reacquainted in a more personal way than we’d been able to so far. She felt as good as she looked. After about five minutes with our lips locked, we stepped back to the street, walked to the hotel, and went to our separate rooms.

I went down to breakfast at eight o’clock sharp, pulling my trolley with camera case and lights. The Nikon was slung over my shoulder. Jane flagged me over to a table and I sat with her and two of the other women in the group, Dee and Helen.

“Oh, I’m in love with you!” Jane said when I parked the trolley behind my chair and sat down. I looked at her with my mouth open.

“Lady Jane! What inspires a declaration like that?” I gasped.

“You already have your equipment on a trolley!”

“I don’t know how anyone is supposed to carry all this stuff without one. I’d die in a hundred steps,” I laughed.

“Except you aren’t the one expected to carry it,” Jane said. “I am.”

“You can’t be serious. I know you schlep around equipment all the time, but I’d never expect you to carry my crap.”

“Can I have him, Jane? Please?” Dee pled. “Bwana want Bearer to carry everything and bring him his meals.”

“Dee, if that racist is calling you his servant, I’ll have a talk with him immediately,” I said.

“Easy, Nate. First, we assistants all know and were briefed before you ever got here. A major part of our job is to cart and haul your equipment so you aren’t encumbered by it when you want to use it. It’s quite humbling for a noblewoman to be the servant of an American,” Jane said. “But we were prepared. If you hadn’t brought a trolley, we have some standing by. It’s part of Sir Andrew’s test to see how each photographer is prepared. Today is nearly all about equipment, with examples from Sir Andrew’s many years making portraits.”

“And I’m kidding a little,” Dee said. “Skylar is very nice and I started using the term Bwana to tease him. But he didn’t bring a trolley. I think he expected some brawny dude to be his assistant and he wasn’t very careful about how he packed his equipment. He’s upstairs now trying to decide what he should leave in his room.”

“Sorry,” I said. “The whole apartheid thing in South Africa keeps cropping up for me. We had a symposium in August about Polaroid’s involvement with them.”

That got the conversation going a different direction and I told them about the symposium and how confusing I thought the whole issue was. Everyone there agreed that apartheid was wrong, but no one could agree on how to get a transition to majority rule.

“It’s changing slowly,” Skylar said, coming up to the table. I didn’t realize he was standing behind me while I expressed my frustration. He pulled up a chair next to Dee and she jumped to get him breakfast from the buffet. “My father works for the Polaroid distributor. He agrees with the equal pay, but some of the white employees insist that they should have more money than their black counterparts. Then the government passed a law that the company couldn’t have more black employees than white. Nobody really knows what to do. I’m afraid there’s going to be a bloody revolution and there’s nothing any of us can do about it.”

“Breakfast, Bwana,” Dee said, setting a plate and a teacup in front of Skylar.

“Thank you, Dee. Now no more step and fetch it. I’d like you to check my equipment over and make sure I haven’t overpacked. I’ll carry the camera case because it’s the heaviest. If you can get the lighting and tripod bag, that would be great,” Skylar said.

“And just so the rest of you all know, Skylar and I planned out the breakfast thing in advance. We thought it would get a rise out of someone.”

“You got me,” I said.

“No, I’ve got you,” Jane said possessively. “We should go over your equipment, too, just to make sure we aren’t overpacked.”

“Great.” I slurped down the rest of my coffee and Jane and I went to the lobby to open and inspect my equipment.

“The essence of being a location dependent photographer is being properly prepared for what you might encounter. This is especially true when you are traveling to a different country to make portraits,” Sir Andrew said. “Are you prepared to use Fomopan, Ilford, Agfa, or Kodak film stock? Are you prepared for 120 and 240 electrical connections? Do you have lights for photos in a dark and dingy castle. Not yours, of course, Lady Jane,” he laughed. “Your monastery, Brother Hector? Do you have filters, proper lenses, and a dark bag? Today is all about being completely prepared with as little as possible for your assistant to carry.”

From that point, we gathered around as each camera and equipment bag was opened and surveyed. It was all going well until he lifted my Linhof out of the case and looked at what was revealed. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to shrink into nothing.

“Now this is a well-prepared photographer,” Sir Andrew said. “How many prophylactics do you have in this case? He expects to get lucky!”

“Hope blooms eternal,” I sighed.

“Happy hunting.”

He was off and started on the next case as we reviewed how each photographer was prepared. He tagged one person for not having power adapters, another for not having a strobe, and two for not having a cable release. He checked our film stock and by the end of the day, he’d also shown slides of different trips and location portraits he’d done.

“Now, how did I get all these pictures of me working in making portraits?” he asked. “That might be one of the most critical uses of your assistant. Always make sure he or she is equipped with a camera so he can take your picture while you are working. He’ll also have that camera available for you whenever you want a quick picture of a location or a person or a friend. Or your assistant. So, your assistant should carry your 35mm camera. It’s up to you as to whether it is loaded with black and white or color transparencies. You should have your medium format camera out and ready at all times. Your large format camera might never get unpacked on some days unless you’ve actually got an appointment for a portrait in advance.”

“Isn’t that true of all our lighting equipment, too?” Rohan asked.

“To a certain degree, yes, but if you find a situation and portrait subject that gives you time to be careful and set up, you will be surprised at how frequently power is available nearby. And you can get some amazing effects in places that might not otherwise have had enough light to shoot.”

We all repacked our cases with our assistants and divvied up the load. Jane carried my Nikon—which was loaded with Kodachrome, since I considered it more my tourist camera—and I carried the small case I usually carried over my shoulder on the plane. I didn’t want my Hasselblad hung around my neck getting bounced around and bumped up against things. Jane towed the trolley back to my room and walked right in with me.

“Should you be seen entering my room?” I asked as she shut the door.

“I think most of the assistants are meeting with their charges and preparing to go out to dinner. It’s a little early for dinner, so we have a chance to just sit and talk,” she said.

“Well, today was an interesting day,” I said. “If a little embarrassing.”

“At least now I know where the condoms are when we need one.”

“Are we likely to need one, Jane?” I asked.

“Unless you intend to marry me and help raise the next Lord Plympford, we’d better take precautions.”

She flopped on my bed, which was one of only two places to sit in the small room. I took the plastic chair in the corner.

“You know I always take precautions,” I said.

“Yes. Like sitting in a chair on the other side of the room for fear I’ll seduce you,” Jane laughed. “So much has happened this past year. I really want to catch up. Fortunately, we’ll have opportunities. I even plan to take you home to meet Lady Madeline Countess of Plympford.”

“Oh, dear. Will I meet the Earl as well?”

“I’ll take you to the cemetery. That was one of the unfortunate events of the past year. My father was in an accident and both he and his driver were killed.”

“I’m so sorry, Jane.”

“Thank you, Nate. It’s been a little difficult. Fortunately, mother is considerably younger than he was and has the management of the estate well under control. She has, however, encouraged me to find and marry a suitable candidate for the earldom. It’s not likely, really. I’m fortunate in that my father, with my mother’s consent, left me the holdings of the earldom with a reserve portion for the dowager countess. So, even if Mother finds a suitable man and marries him herself, he would gain her property but not much of the wealth. Even the castle and manor house are mine. My mother has lifelong tenancy. Her new husband would become an unlanded earl without an heir, if Her Majesty consented to that.”

“What a complicated thing to toss on you in a time of mourning.”

“I miss my father. He was kind and doted on me, suggesting that I follow my passion for photography. He even smiled when he saw the photo of me that you took—and then bid me put it away where he would never see his daughter in such a state again,” Jane laughed. “My mother has already hung the portrait in the library and has given me permission to welcome you at Plympford when you arrive.”

“That’s very nice of her,” I said.

“We saw your movie. Mother was very impressed.”

“Oh! I suppose I should have known it was released over here. It isn’t really my movie, though. I consulted on the photography aspects is all.”

“Anyone who knows you would still say it was your movie. Not about you, but I could see the mark of your photography. Your style. I think Sir Andrew has great hopes for you.”

“I hope I can live up to expectations. That seems to be more and more the case lately. I don’t know where people get the idea that I can do something or know something, but all of a sudden, I’m expected to live up to a reputation. If they knew how much film I waste to get a single shot, I’m sure the only ones who would be touting my ability are the film manufacturers who sell me all that film.”