One of the photographic jobs that I have never done but which always provided me a kind of morbid fascination was that of crime scene photographer. Have any of you ever done that? The one paramount requirement is, of course, the accurate and complete recording of the facts and all details pertinent to them or, in other words, “don’t get creative”. I have at various times flirted with pursuing this line of work, but have never been desperate enough to even take the first steps.
Nothing like starting a post with a digression. The theme of this post is not what one might think by viewing the above photo or even those below. As a matter of fact, I may not even come to the real point behind it.
I had to do some real estate photography last week that was a bit of a challenge for me. I was shooting the home of a couple who didn’t want to leave it and were torn desperately by the necessity to do so. Their details are not important.
I of course had to do the best job I could even knowing that I was helping them to accomplish something that was anathema to them. I was so torn by it I almost felt guilty about it. They, of course, would have it no other way, nor would or could I.
It was obvious, as I set up in each room, that they had taken care of the house and had loved living there. And I could see why.
They were the first to live there and had obviously become as much a part of it as it had of them.
I “understood” the kitchen from the moment I stepped foot in it.
The garden revealed enormous effort and loving care over the years they lived here.
I do hope they fare well. When I know where they end up, I’ll tell you. Meanwhile, Mr. Bean shares his experiences with you! (see bellow)