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R. Narayanan

eWorld offers a four-part series on the photography industry. We begin with what it means to capture the moment, and relive it.

HAVE you wondered what happened to that photograph — the one you never got to see — in which you were wearing that great outfit, flashing your shiniest smile and posing with the bride and groom?

For that matter, why do we take photographs at all, when we take them with so much difficulty but rarely look them up as the years go by?

Whatever the answers, and despite the complexity involved in the task of creating photos, the industry continues to thrive. Will it continue to do so? This article, the first in a series, seeks to examine the photography industry from the consumer's point of view. It traces the future direction of the industry with the technology that is available and that is likely to be available in the near future.

Capture the moment

I set out to `capture the moment' and it appears that I need an enabler — in the form of a camera. Even after I purchase one, I need to make recurring investments. Like the proverbial "farmer wanting a wife who wants a dog", I discover that apart from the camera I need a film roll and I must choose between different speeds of film and an array of mind-boggling features such as indoor lighting or outdoor, and so on.

Moments happen accidentally. When the moment unfolds, the camera is not always available. I cannot see myself walking around with the camera all the time, let alone remember how many photos I have taken and how many clicks are left on the roll. Disincentive enough for the average amateur photo-taker. Yet, somehow, for years, we consumers have captured a few of the moments that we desire.

View the photos taken

Ideally, I would seek instant gratification. Polaroid Corp addressed this problem with its instant camera. However, with the conventional analogue camera, I am unable to view a photo until I have completed all 36 frames on the roll.

I plod along, and then, between the 25th frame and the 36th frame I begin to experience substantial discomfort.

Each click calls for decision-making. Is this the best moment to capture? Do I have enough frames left for the rest of the day? Did I `waste' that last photograph? My anxiety builds up.

Other times, my desire for rapid gratification kicks in and I click with abandon on those last five or six. So it wasn't necessary to take a picture of the kitchen sink, but I really did want to finish the entire quota of 36 photos so I can see those cute pictures of my granddaughter.

Having finally finished the roll, I must now get these photos developed. I fight inertia once again.

The joy of taking photographs is rapidly turning to annoyance at the process involved in getting the final prints. Eventually I successfully drop off my pictures and answer the various questions about print sizes and so forth (only to find out later that the new photo album my wife purchased only takes a particular size — and not the size I chose). Of course, after an hour or so, I need to go back to collect the photographs. Some places offer a courier service, which is a relief.

Finally, I get to view the photos and realise that only a few have indeed come out well (including, of course, the one of the kitchen sink). I grin, and I bear it.

Invariably the people with whom I would have liked to share the photos are no longer around. I guess a trip to the post office is unavoidable.

Selecting what I want

This is the tricky part. I would have to take this home and check with at least one other person in order to decide whether I want any additional copies. Once we have decided that some photos warrant extra copies for posting to near and dear, it is back to the studio. Invariably, however, this gets postponed, as my growing elation at my photo-taking dexterity is replaced by a sinking sensation at the thought of navigating traffic, parking, and giving clear instructions to the sweet but clueless young man in the studio.

Sharing the photos

The easy part is sharing with those immediately available. The more difficult part is sharing with those not in the vicinity. Once I track down those addresses, purchase a photo-safe waterproof envelope and haul myself down to the post office I am beginning to feel sorry I ever bought a camera.

Storing what I clicked

All right, so I gave away some of my favourite photographs. Better that than deal with the studio again. But there are still some photos that I might want to view again. And a whole lot that are not worth a second glance, but I am most certainly not going to throw them away. After all I have paid for this, haven't I? But store it where?

My wife once again reminds me, that I had promised (in a moment of misguided enthusiasm) that I would carefully paste these in an album. In fact, I had offered to paste them chronologically as well, and even promised to annotate the photos so as to "capture the moment". It sounded good then, but not now. So I postpone.

Meanwhile I console myself that I would keep it in my cupboard. When I open the drawer, photos I had taken five years ago, and still to be indexed and annotated, stare me in the face.

I stuff this new lot in, and hastily shut the drawer. I studiously avoid opening the drawer for the next few days, and slowly the memory of all those promises recedes, until of course, the next time that I need to open that drawer.

Sharing memories

Or until the kids come home once again, and suddenly their mother, in a burst of affection, desires to recall all those moments.

"Did you ever get around to organising those photographs in an album" she enquires? "Doesn't matter even if you didn't," she adds affectionately, "but can you bring out those old photos of our visit to Kodaikanal?"

I steel myself as I desperately try to remember whether this particular lot is still in the office, or in one of the (now many) drawers devoted to photos or worse still whether I will have to extricate it from that huge mess of other "cannot throw away" stuff.

At the end of this life history of a photograph, from taking a snap to its viewing and storing, we see that despite all these hurdles, the photo industry has prospered.

To be continued

Picture by S. Siva Saravanan

(The author is a strategic marketing consultant and can be reached at rnaru@nett10.com)

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