Lights, camera, ACTION! Isn’t that the usual order followed whilst on the set of a professional shoot? There were lights. Very bright lights. There was a camera. But there wasn’t a whole lot of action coming from me during my first official photoshoot months ago somewhere in the heart of downtown Birmingham. In my case it was more like, “Lights, camera, . . . don’t just stand there. Start posing! Do something, woman!”
As I stood before the lens of the camera, white lights beaming blindly in my sensitive eyes, I relied on the photographer to guide me (an amateur “model” at least, a stiff mannequin at best) in what I was supposed to do next. The time had come to put to test if I was as photogenic as people politely claimed me to be; to challenge those who would always tell me I should become a model. I’m quick to tell those people who advise me to become a model that I am, in fact, not a model neither do I try to be or want to be.
I’ve never been the type who likes the focus of attention on any level, because it gives me an uncomfortable feeling of being self-conscious of everything from my hair to my body language; it’s because of this feeling that I’m opposed to taking too many selfies (that, and I just think they are the quintessence of the word vanity. Besides, who has the patience to take 20 shots just to get that perfect one? It’s so aggravating!). After months of ironing out the concept with the photographer–who by the way is one of my confidants–discussing the direction I was aiming for, the time had finally come to test out my
painfully lacking skills.
Originally I had every intent on recording part of the session as a look behind the scenes for “Skinny Girl . . .” but I was afraid my incoordination and ineptitude would produce a major case of secondhand embarrassment to my viewers. If I ever do another one, I’ll try my best to not be too camera shy long enough for me to be recorded. Maybe.Watching my friend, D. Jerome Smedley, work gave me a new respect for photographers in their profession. Being the inquisitive person I am, there were moments I asked him about the equipment he used and their functions. In the end I did have fun thanks to him (and my Mom who was present, God bless her). Dancing to Michael Jackson and Prince songs on Pandora helped loosen me up, too. They both laughed at my dancing, but I don’t care. They were just jealous of my moves, that’s all.
Would I do it again? I’m not opposed to it. Maybe I’ll have a glass of wine nearby and the right kind of music to help keep me from looking like a stiff mannequin who lacks expression next time.
And now for a shameless plug. Please be kind and visit D. Jerome Smedley’s website at http://www.djeromesmedley.com for contact information.
Photo Credit(s): http://www.djeromesmedley.com
Styling: Elegantly Chic