Time was when it was really hard to take a picture oneself. First, you’d have to focus on a spot where you’re not, then press the shutter and run to said spot faster than the speed of light—which, technically, isn’t possible, although the prizefighter Muhammad Ali once claimed that he could flip a wall switch and be in bed before the room got dark. Don’t know if that’s true; however, I’ll concede that The Greatest was most likely a tad quicker afoot than I ever was.
Because I can’t outrun light, you’ll seldom see a self-portrait of this photographer, which many young people nowadays can’t fathom. I mean, what’s the point of taking a picture if you’re not in it? In fact, someone recently asked if that’s me standing in the surf off the coast of Queensland, Australia.
“How could it possibly be me?” I answered. “I’m the person who shot the picture.”
“Then who is it?”
Ah, the same old question that’s been asked time and again, ever since I took up photography. “Why is Richard taking pictures of people we don’t even know? Is he compiling a family album consisting entirely of strangers? And why is he always pointing his camera in the wrong direction?”
Perhaps I could have avoided a lot of negative commentary from my elders had there been such a thing as a selfie stick when I was starting out. With a selfie stick, I could have inserted myself into every action shot, every landscape, every group shot, every still life, even every portrait. Perhaps by photo bombing newsworthy occasions or posing next to famous celebrities, I could have become likewise famous—like Zelig or Forrest Gump.
Time is winding down. I want to be noticed! So instead of standing behind the camera I’m thinking I should point it in my direction, then gaze fetchingly into the lens, or whatever it’s called on a smart phone that reflects an image of the user. A mirror? Yes, let’s call it a mirror–into which one gazes Narcissus-like, ascending ever higher into the heady realm of self-absorption.