What a 1987 Self-Portrait Reminds Me About Photography
Every photographer has a photograph they look back on and wish they had made just a little differently.
This is mine.
I made this self-portrait around 1987, shortly after my business partner and I purchased Chateau Photo, a portrait studio on Boulevard d'Anjou in Châteauguay, Quebec, just south of Montreal.
Looking at it today, there's only one thing I'd change.
I wish I hadn't used my Hasselblad.
That probably sounds strange.
The portrait was made with my Hasselblad 500CM, which at the time was my dream camera. I'd worked hard to afford it, and I absolutely loved everything about it—the Carl Zeiss lenses, the waist-level finder and those beautiful 6×6 cm negatives.
But by using the Hasselblad to make the self-portrait, the camera disappeared behind the lens.
If I'd used my Nikon FE2 instead, I could have been holding the Hasselblad in the portrait. Nearly forty years later, I think that would have told the story much better.
Of course, when I pressed the shutter, I wasn't thinking about history.
I wasn't thinking about writing a blog someday.
I was simply making another photograph.
This was long before smartphones, iPhones and selfies became part of everyday life. Back then, making a self-portrait meant setting up a tripod, carefully composing the scene, setting the exposure, starting the self-timer and hoping everything worked. There was no LCD screen to check the result, no instant upload and certainly no opportunity to shoot twenty versions until you found one you liked.
One frame.
Then off to the darkroom to see if you'd got it right.
Photography wasn't something I did after work.
Photography was work.
And it was also what I loved.
Our studio kept us busy photographing families, graduates, business portraits and weddings. When I wasn't there, I was often photographing assignments for local newspapers or learning everything I could in a professional black-and-white darkroom.
Looking back, I sometimes wonder when I actually slept.
Those early years taught me lessons that still influence the way I photograph today.
Portrait photography taught me to understand people and light.
Wedding photography taught me to anticipate moments that couldn't be repeated.
Newspaper photography taught me to react quickly and tell a story with a single frame.
And the darkroom taught me patience.
Every roll of film had to be processed by hand.
Every contact sheet had to be studied.
Every print was made beneath an enlarger, carefully dodged and burned until it matched the photograph you had imagined when you released the shutter. If you wanted a better print, you didn't click another button—you became a better printer.
Those hours spent in the darkroom also taught me something else.
Good photography has never really been about the equipment.
Yes, cameras have become astonishing.
Today's autofocus can recognize a bird's eye in flight. Image stabilization lets us make photographs that once seemed impossible. Modern sensors produce beautiful files at ISO settings we never dreamed of in the 1980s.
I'm grateful for every one of those advances.
They've helped me make photographs I couldn't have made when this portrait was taken.
But the fundamentals haven't changed.
Light.
Composition.
Timing.
Patience.
Those things mattered then.
They matter now.
Not long after opening Chateau Photo, the local newspaper ran a story introducing us as the new owners.
A Piece of History
A local newspaper (Le Soleil du Saint Laurent) welcomed my business partner and me as the new owners of Château Photo in Châteauguay, Quebec. Nearly forty years later, it's a wonderful reminder of where the journey began. English translation: Last Saturday, Chris Dodds and Bob Scrimgeour celebrated their new acquisition: Chateau Photo, located on Boulevard D’Anjou in Châteauguay. Good luck to the new owners.
Whenever I come across that clipping, it makes me smile.
I see two young photographers standing proudly in their new business.
Full of enthusiasm.
Full of optimism.
Completely unaware of where photography would eventually lead.
For me, it became a lifetime behind the lens.
It introduced me to remarkable places, unforgettable wildlife and wonderful people. It allowed me to teach, lead photography workshops, write about photography and, most importantly, to keep learning.
That's probably the biggest lesson these old photographs remind me of.
You never really arrive as a photographer.
You simply keep learning.
Looking back at this portrait today, I don't see someone who knew where life was heading.
I see someone who was curious.
Someone who loved cameras.
Someone who couldn't wait to make the next photograph.
In fact, it was while photographing a recent portrait of my good friend and Canadian artist, Steven Smith, that this old self-portrait came back to mind. Standing behind the camera that day, I found myself thinking about this photograph from nearly forty years ago and how much—and how little—has changed. It prompted me to dig this image out of the archives and finally tell its story.
(If you haven't seen Steven's portrait yet, it's worth a look. You can read that story here: Photographing Artist Steven Smith at Crocker Hill in St. Andrews by-the-Sea
In many ways, not much has changed.
The cameras are different.
The technology is extraordinary.
The hair is a little greyer... and a lot shorter.
Thankfully, the excitement of heading out with a camera each morning hasn't changed a bit.
Whether it's to photograph Atlantic Puffins on Québec's North Shore, spring warblers at Point Pelee or coastal brown bears along Alaska's Katmai Coast, I still feel much the same as I did when this portrait was made.
Excited to see what the day might bring.
And eager to make one more photograph.
I'd Love to Hear From You
Do you still have the camera that started your photographic journey?
Or perhaps there's an old photograph that brings back memories of where it all began.
I'd love to hear your story in the comments below.