My Young Photography Muse

Artists have to draw inspiration from somewhere. Let me introduce you to my petite source of creative energy. Her kind, sweet soul came into my life when I needed it most.

Before I explain about the young lady in the photo below (and above), let me say, I was in a complete creative rut. I was down and out. Every photo I took looked like every other I had taken. I couldn’t see anything new anymore.

My artistic well had dried up. I had lost myself in mediocrity, and I didn’t know where or how to find new originality.

And that’s when the phone rang. A young person’s voice was on the other end of the line.

“Hello, my name’s Julie Bird. I wanted to know if you take work experience students into your studio?”

I had to figure out how to reply. Calls like these usually came from schools, and this sounded like a kid, not a teacher.

“Yes, I do, but—”

“Oh, it’s okay, sir.” She giggled. “I’m only checking for my school. If you do, I’ll let them know and they’ll sort out the paperwork. It’s just, well, I love what you do, sir. I’ve seen your online photos and want to learn how to do it.”

She barely sounded high school-aged, let alone of senior stock.

“I’ve been learning photography. Our art block has a darkroom—and I really love your black-and-white pictures. I like yours a lot. I’m really good with cameras, sir. I am.”

A camera?

Schools usually wanted their work experience students placed in offices. It’s all about filing and answering phone calls. Camera work wasn’t sought after. For schools, there’s no long-term benefit to a student gaining good picture-taking skills.

I responded, “I see. Do you own an SLR camera?”

I waited for her to ask me what that was.

“Two, sir. One for colour photos, and the other one I use most, has black and white film inside it. That one’s got an f1.2 lens. It’s better for natural light.”

Two cameras? Natural light and an f1.2 lens? Film? I didn’t anticipate those words from someone so young and the digital age.

It was apparent she knew much more about photography. She knew lenses. She owned two cameras and used them for specific purposes. I had adult students with less knowledge and gear than that.

And film?

Who chooses to shoot on film these days?

“f1.2? Is that a 50mm lens, Julie?”

“No, that one is 110mm. I’ve got a 50mm too but it’s—”

“That’s a serious lens you’ve got there.”

“My dad bought it for me. He’s very encouraging.”

And that’s how it started. Although she sounded young, her knowledge and ability to speak intelligently altered my opinion of her. She also worked hard for her teachers to create this work experience opportunity for herself. She had put in the effort to make it happen. How could I not stop and pay her some attention?

When I met her and her Nun educators at her private all-girls school in the countryside, I was in awe. How on earth did she convince these conservative folks to come and work with me?

And she was tiny. It’s no wonder she sounded so young on the phone.

“I’ve shown them what you do,” she said. “You just have to sign the form. If you like, I can make it on Wednesdays for the first two weeks and then for the whole school holidays.”

Oh my god, Julie! Did you show them my work? And they’re still going through with it?

Clearly, she was taking hold of her destiny. Whatever case Julie had made before calling my studio must’ve done the trick, because she was in charge and was set to come and work with me come what may.

I signed those papers and drove out of the school grounds, wondering if I’d done the right thing. Religious conservatism aside, I didn’t need an assistant—not at all. I worked alone, and I liked my own company.

I’d now have to consider having someone else around the place and figuring out what to do with them. It would’ve been better to have someone do the filing!

“Maybe this distraction might work better for me,” I said to myself behind the wheel of my car.

The poor girl lived far away. To get to my studio, she had to catch two trains and a bus, each taking two and a half hours.

God love her dedication to the art of photography.

That first day was about breaking the ice. We talked about our respective histories in photography. Well, mostly it was her talking about her school and the difficulty she had matching her interests into its inflexible curriculum.

She filled me in with her academic background.

She told me she’d been a difficult student. According to her, the Nuns would’ve been glad to see her leave the school permanently. She had tested their patience many times, the last one while trying to submit an art project on pornography.

“I bet that went over well,” I said.

“I can’t see why it’s any different. It’s just the same as any other art.”

“Julie, you did that just to shock the Nuns.”

She smiled, “Funny, that’s what my mother said.”

Although she admitted to not being particularly academic, Julie’s grades were solid in most areas. She was well-spoken and clear of thought. She never swore or spoke ill of anyone. She may have been a rebellious student at school but was a courteous human being outside it.

School just wasn’t her thing.

She was a pocket-sized ball of enthusiasm and curiosity. Nothing was off-limits. I even had to pull her into line a few times when her conversations strayed into areas others considered inappropriate.

Yes, I was aware she was a juvenile. My responsibility was to ensure her work experience period was safe and didn’t cross any lines of impropriety. I explained to her that certain discussions were off-limits, and so too were some photography assignments. This included taking part in the life portraits I’d been known for doing. I wouldn’t even let her into the studio when that was happening.

I decided that the black-and-white nude work she joined me for wasn’t going to involve her. Instead, we reviewed the shots she’d already seen in my advertising. I gave her the technical details about what equipment was used to take them and then left it at that. I then gave her the mundane responsibility of taking and editing puppy graduation photos—part of a small but regular contract I had with my local veterinarian. She didn’t want to do it, but she understood the deal.

When she finished her work experience time, she proposed taking on a traineeship with me, after graduating from high school. I thought it was a good idea. She’d already been a great help and did all her work well.

So, she’d work for me two days a week and get paid for it. It wasn’t much but she’d be able to keep exploring her photography interests while learning the trade.

This new arrangement was significantly different. The school was no longer responsible for Julie. She was eighteen and could make adult decisions. If I liked, I could include her in a wider range of photographic projects.

One day, we were out scouting for a new shoot location. I had a client who wanted something unique in her nude pictures—urban scenes with concrete and brick. We came across an enormous water utility on top of a hill. It had large, colourful graffiti all over it. I felt it’d make the perfect location for the upcoming project. The edgy backdrop would contrast against the gentle ones of the human form.

“Did you say she’s a dancer?” Julie asked.

“Ballet.”

“I used to do ballet.”

“You did?”

“Gave it up because my legs weren’t strong enough.”

“I hear ballet dancers break their ankles a lot.”

“Blisters, broken toes too—it’s really not for me. I wasn’t disciplined enough either.”

I turned back to the tank, looked at where the light was falling, and tried to imagine my ballet subject posing in the space before it.

“Are you thinking of putting her against that wall?” Julie asked, pulling my camera out of its bag.

“Yes, although when I look at it now, it might not work. The graffiti is colourful and bold, maybe too strong. I get a sense she could get lost in it. I’ll take a shot or two but I have my doubts.”

She handed me the camera and put a hand on her hip. “But if you’re shooting in black and white, those colours won’t matter, will they?”

That was a mature question for someone with limited experience.

I lifted the camera to my eye. “It’s not just the colour I’m worried about, Julie. Those lines swirl about to the left side and there’s no balance for it to the right. They carry a lot of movement. Lots of distracting lines.”

“We could do a test run,” she said from behind me.

“Yes, that’s why the camera’s here. I’ll take a shot or two of it now and see what it looks like when I superimpose someone onto it back at the studio.” I snapped off a few pictures and then studied the results on the screen. “I guess we can be thankful there are no obvious expletives written on the wall. I’m not even sure what any of those words mean. We better check them just in case there’s a hate message. Do you know what’s written there?”

As I lifted my head to examine the wall, a voice said, “See? I can do ballet too.”

I turned to find Julie holding this pose on the grassed area behind me!

Yes, it happened this way. That crazy kid stripped off and did this!

What an unexpected and extraordinary moment. That bold personality was expressing itself again. It’s no wonder the Nuns feared her!

Okay, she wasn’t making a perfect ballet pose but that’s not the point. She was keen to model and showed initiative to do that.

“Well, it’s no good doing it out there, Julie. The wall is over this way. Go over there. Try against that bit. That’s probably where I’d put her.”

Julie smiled and walked across the grass barefoot, taking her time when crossing the stony edges of the service road that surrounded the water utility.

“How about this?” She asked, posing against the wall.

I had to blink myself back to reality. Was this happening? We’d never talked about her being in front of the camera. She showed no interest in that part at all. It was she who wanted to take the photos.

Or did she?

I blinked again and looked through the viewfinder to study the scene.

The frame showed what I feared about the graffiti. Those swirling lines swallowed her up. They were way too distracting. A ballet dancer would have the same issue. The background was just too busy to work the way I wanted.

I took some shots and looked at the results.

“Come and see,” I said.

Julie gingerly trotted back over the pebbles. “Oh yeah! It wasn’t anything like I imagined. You’re right. You can hardly see me.”

She swept up her hair and threw it over one side of her neck. “Graffiti dominates everything.”

I nodded in agreement while she pointed to the screen. “What about getting closer? There’s a lot of extra space around the sides. A tighter shot would put more emphasis on me and less on the wall.”

If you imagine us having this weird creative discussion while one of us is wearing jeans and a collared shirt and the other is stark naked in a park while leaning over my shoulder, then you’re right. That’s how it happened.

I must admit, sharing ideas with someone else while I was working was refreshingly different. And the scenery had definitely improved.

“Tight framing is the easy way out, Julie. I’m trying to include more urban space around the subject to immerse her in it. It’s working out how to connect them without this kind of imbalance.”

I never mentioned to her the rut I was trying to escape.

“Oh, I see. Well, if movement is the issue, why not work even more movement,” she said. “Why fight it? Go with it.”

Why didn’t I think of that? I’d say it to my students in the classroom without question.

She professed we integrate a moving ballet ‘leap’ into the sequence. After marking out some areas on the ground for where to start the leap, we came up with this panned shot.

Action shots are challenging. If done right, the movement will lift the subject practically off the page. However, preserving the integrity of the primary subject while doing it can be hit-and-miss.

Again, her pose was more Olympic Sprinter than Delicate Dancer but it worked. She confessed that it was hard to concentrate while leaping and not landing on a random pebble. Her idea was absolutely right. The background fell away while allowing the subject to exist in a sea of urban space.

When the time came, I used this concept with the client (and took a broom to clear away the pebbles). We went on to produce some incredible shots that day.

For the next two years, Julie and I created some outstanding pictures in many areas of black-and-white photography. She posed for me several times and each time we came back with something worthy of displaying.

I can’t thank her enough for coming into my life when I needed it most.

The footnote to this two-year friendship/collaboration is a question you’ll have about other areas of our relationship. Did we explore them and find different ways to be creative? The answer is no. We were professional. I was the photographer and she was the model/muse/assistant. We never went there. She grew up, met a lovely man, married him, and now raises a small battalion of boys. I can tell she’s full of love and blessed with a stability and richness many of us desire but rarely achieve.

I hope that, in some small way, I contributed to that at a time when her life could’ve taken a different direction.

-Michael (Photographer and Author)

P.S Some of my working life as a professional photographer (and teacher) went into my book. It’s downloadable and free for a limited time.