I’m not an ugly guy. Let’s be honest, I’m not exactly Brad Pitt either, but I rate myself a cautious 6.5 on the Completely Arbitrary Aesthetic Assessment Apparatus (patent pending). I might increase that to a giddy 7.5 if I’m wearing nice clothes or the light is especially bad. I wish I could say that looks do not matter- but as long as they do I feel blessed to be of average attractiveness. I am all too aware of the alternatives, dear and soon-to-be-horrified reader.
The technological revolution of the late nineteenth century exposed a shameful secret about a small but significant fraction of the populace. These people looked just like everybody else, had similar features and so on, and generally passed unnoticed in the crowd. Some were even considered pleasant to look at, perhaps even handsome. It was only the new art of photography that exposed these charlatans to the rest of the world. While they appeared to be of regular appearance when in motion, the still image revealed their true, hideous visages.
Families and friends would be shocked at the change, disgusted by the very images they had sought to take, to keep and treasure. These ‘unphotogenic’ people would become the scourge of the captured image, ruining portraits and crowd scenes alike with their deformed, gargoyle-like countenances. I know this story all too well because… I am unphotogenic.
I mean, really. Is it too much to ask for a printed image to accurately represent the face I see in the mirror each morning? OK, I’m no Adonis, that much we’ve identified. But am I truly the shiny-faced balloon man that I see in my new Facebook photos every Sunday morning? I have been told on more than one occasion that I have a nice smile. Were those kind words spoken in truth, or were they really a horrified reaction to the manic cartoon character grin that I seem to consistently sport? I know my eyes point in the same direction in real life, so why can’t they manage it in pictures?
In order that this pain might be minimised in future I hereby present a list of classic errors made by those that would have their image immortalised. Heed my words, and may the secret uggos among you forever remain a secret.
1.Hush your gums. If you aren’t smiling, keep your flippin’ mouth shut. In a photograph no one wants to see any of the following: your tonsils, your epiglottis, your fillings, your chewed gum, the lipstick on your teeth.
2.Try and face front. I have only a passing acquaintance with the back of my head. I would probably be able to pick it out of a police line-up, but I don’t have a collection of photos devoted solely to it. At least, I didn’t, until people started taking photos of me in public. Now I have a huge public collection of pictures of my head from all angles, none of them flattering.
3.Stay still. Some of the most famous images of the 20th century are of bodies in motion, of dancers, sportsmen and soldiers. You are none of these people. Getting photographed will expose your movements as what they really are- a collection of stop-start jerks and flailing limbs. If you are being photographed while dancing, multiply this by a reasonable figure. Say… a million.
4.Time your pose. SmilesmilesmileBLINKsmilesmilesmilesmileRELAXsmilesmile. Guess when the flash went off?
5.Blow your nose. Yet another snap ruined because you’ve got a sugar frosting of ketamine around your nostril. Makes you really wish you hadn’t accepted your mother’s friend request, doesn’t it?
6.Concentrate. Normally it doesn’t take much of a conscious effort to keep you features aligned. Unfortunately, photographs and alcohol go together like… well, like photographs and alcohol. It will take mental fortitude to keep your features from melting like Morph under a hairdryer.
7.If you ain’t got it, fake it. You should have at least one ‘go-to’ pose for when the camera appears. This is your last bastion of control, with which to deflect the harsh light of photo-reality. Chaps, just make a gun with your fingers and point it at the camera. Ladies, put one finger to your lips and look beatifically into the sky. Come on people, work with me here.
8.Know when to quit. Maybe this will be the one. Maybe this will be that new profile picture I’ve been waiting for. Maybe this will be my next Christmas card. Maybe this will be the one my girlfriend likes. Maybe… oh, who am I kidding. Maybe I should just face the other way. Sigh. One more for the back-of-the-head collection.
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