With the Photographer - Questions & Answers

The waiting period at the photographer's studio functions as a crucial psychological turning point that undermines the narrator's initial confidence and makes him vulnerable to the photographer's subsequent criticisms. When the narrator first arrives with a simple, straightforward desire—to get a photograph that looks like him—he appears confident and resigned to wait as instructed. However, the hour-long wait, during which he reads magazines full of beautiful models, creates a significant shift in his mental state.

The magazines introduce the narrator to professional standards of beauty and photographic perfection that he had not previously internalized. As he examines photographs of beautiful models, his mind begins to make unfavorable comparisons between their idealized appearances and his own natural features. This creates a sense of inferiority and perfectionism that was not present before entering the studio. The waiting period thus transforms him from someone accepting of his natural appearance into someone questioning and critical of his own looks.

This psychological transformation is essential to the photographer's later success in convincing the narrator to accept extensive alterations. Had the narrator remained confident in his original purpose and appearance, he might have resisted the photographer's criticisms and demands more strongly. Instead, the waiting period has already planted seeds of doubt and insecurity that make him susceptible to the photographer's perfectionist ideology. The magazines have effectively primed him to accept the narrative that his face needs improvement.

Leacock's portrayal of the waiting period is therefore not merely incidental; it represents the broader social machinery through which advertising and professional imagery create dissatisfaction with natural appearance. By the time the photographer begins his work, the narrator has already been softened up by exposure to idealized images, making him less resistant to alteration. The waiting period demonstrates how consumer culture works insidiously to undermine our confidence in ourselves before we even begin a transaction.

The photographer emerges as a complex character whose defining traits reveal a man consumed by professional perfectionism and personal ego at the expense of human empathy and respect. Leacock introduces him as "a drooping man in a gray suit, with the dim eye of a natural scientist," immediately establishing him as someone who views people with clinical detachment rather than human warmth. His lack of enthusiasm when the narrator enters the studio suggests his indifference to his clients' actual desires and needs.

The photographer's professional philosophy becomes evident in his obsessive pursuit of perfect lighting and his endless criticism of the narrator's natural features. He tears frantically at curtains and window panes in search of better light, crawls in and out of his camera repeatedly, and treats the narrator's face as raw material to be manipulated and improved. His behavior reveals a man for whom technical perfection and artistic vision matter more than honesty, integrity, or respect for his client. He views photography not as a service to clients but as an outlet for his own creative ambitions and professional pride.

This professional philosophy stands in sharp contrast to the narrator's values. Where the narrator seeks honest representation and authentic memory, the photographer pursues artificial enhancement and professional validation. The narrator is humble, accepting, and focused on relational purposes (his friends remembering him), while the photographer is egotistical, critical, and focused on his own professional achievement. The photographer roughly manipulates the narrator's face without consent, suggesting boundaries mean nothing to him. He treats the narrator's body as an object to be shaped according to his vision, not a person deserving of respect and autonomy.

Most tellingly, when the photographer shows the heavily altered photograph, he displays pride in his work and casualness about the extensive changes he has made. He even suggests removing the narrator's ears, demonstrating how completely disconnected he is from normal human understanding. His suggestion that he could "improve" the photograph further reveals his fundamental inability to understand that authenticity, not improvement, was what the narrator wanted. The photographer's character thus represents not just an individual's flaws but an entire professional class that has become disconnected from human values in pursuit of technical perfection and artistic ego.

Physical manipulation and boundary violation form a consistent pattern throughout the story that connects the photographer's treatment of the narrator's body during the session to his later violation of the narrator's explicit wishes in the developed photograph. This pattern demonstrates how disrespect for physical autonomy extends into disrespect for personal and philosophical autonomy.

During the photography session, the photographer engages in explicit physical violation. He comes to the narrator and holds his face in his hands without invitation, roughly twisting it side to side "as if he were examining a piece of cheese at a market." The dehumanizing comparison is immediately significant—the narrator is not a person but an object to be examined, evaluated, and manipulated. The photographer then barks a series of contradictory and impossible commands: "Open your mouth," "Close your mouth. Close it tighter, tighter! Droop your ears. Expand your lungs."

These commands establish the photographer's authoritarian control over the narrator's body. The narrator has no agency; he is reduced to a subject who must obey the photographer's instructions to reshape himself. The physical roughness and the barked commands establish a relationship of power in which the photographer dominates and the narrator submits. The photographer's complete disregard for the narrator's comfort or consent establishes that he does not view the narrator as a person with rights or dignity.

This pattern of physical violation extends into the photographer's later violation of the narrator's express wishes regarding the photograph. The narrator has explicitly stated what he wants: a true representation of himself for his friends to remember him by. Yet the photographer, showing no hesitation, has extensively altered the photograph according to his own artistic standards, completely disregarding the narrator's clearly expressed desires. The casual way he describes these alterations and his suggestion to remove the narrator's ears entirely demonstrate that he remains as indifferent to the narrator's wishes after the session as he was during it.

The connection between physical and philosophical boundary violation reveals a deeper truth about the photographer's character and the systems he represents. A person who disrespects physical boundaries will also disrespect personal autonomy. A man who manhandles someone without consent will also disregard their expressed wishes without hesitation. The photographer's actions suggest that in his worldview, clients are not people with legitimate desires and boundaries, but materials to be shaped according to his professional vision. The pattern of violation thus demonstrates that the photographer's behavior is not incidental rudeness but a fundamental expression of his professional philosophy, in which his artistic vision matters more than his client's humanity, autonomy, or explicitly stated wishes.

The central theme of authenticity versus artificial perfection forms the philosophical heart of the story and reveals Leacock's critique of a society that has become so obsessed with improvement and enhancement that it has lost the ability to appreciate and accept authentic human identity. Through the contrast between the narrator's values and the photographer's practices, Leacock argues that the pursuit of perfection can destroy rather than enhance authentic identity.

The narrator enters the studio with a clear understanding of what authenticity means. He wants a photograph that "would have looked like me," that depicts his face "as Heaven gave it to me," and that his friends can keep "to reconcile them to my loss." His concept of authenticity is rooted in truth, recognition, and genuine human connection. He has accepted his own appearance—"humble though the gift may have been"—and considers this acceptance a form of self-love and maturity. He has lived with his face for forty years and has come to terms with it; his desire is simply to have an honest record of his true appearance.

The photographer's philosophy of artificial perfection stands in direct opposition. He begins with criticism of the narrator's appearance, immediately suggesting that improvement is needed. He manipulates the narrator's face, demands alterations to his expressions, and eventually uses "drawing calibre and techniques" to extensively alter the photograph. The photographer operates from the assumption that natural appearance is inadequate and that his professional skill and artistic vision can create something "better" through artificial enhancement.

Yet the story reveals that this pursuit of perfection destroys rather than enhances authentic identity. The resulting photograph does not improve the narrator's appearance; it destroys his appearance by making it unrecognizable. The narrator's friend cannot recognize him in the photograph, and the narrator himself finds it utterly worthless because it fails to represent him. The photographer's improvements have resulted in something that is neither authentic nor ultimately satisfying—it is merely a showcase for the photographer's technical skill and professional pride.

More broadly, Leacock suggests that the pursuit of perfection is destructive because it operates from a foundation of dissatisfaction and inadequacy. The magazines the narrator reads are designed to make him feel inferior so that he will accept the photographer's offers of improvement. The photographer's endless criticism creates doubt where previously there was acceptance. The system of artificial perfection requires that people be made to feel inadequate about themselves so that they will consent to alterations and improvements.

This suggests a fundamental incompatibility between authentic identity and the pursuit of artificial perfection. Authentic identity is rooted in acceptance, self-love, and recognition of one's limitations. Artificial perfection requires constant dissatisfaction, self-doubt, and the belief that one can and should be improved. To accept artificial perfection is therefore to reject authentic identity. The photograph that was meant to preserve the narrator's true self becomes instead a monument to rejection of that true self.

Leacock therefore argues that a society obsessed with improvement and perfection has fundamentally misunderstood what makes human beings valuable. Value comes not from technical perfection or artificial enhancement but from authentic presence and genuine connection. The narrator's tears at the end represent the tragedy of recognizing this truth too late, after one's authentic identity has already been violated and transformed according to professional standards of perfection.

The narrator's journey reveals that self-acceptance, while presented as a simple virtue, is actually deeply vulnerable to social pressures and professional systems designed to undermine it. His experience demonstrates that maintaining authentic self-acceptance in a society obsessed with improvement and enhancement requires constant resistance against pervasive cultural messaging.

At the story's beginning, the narrator appears to possess genuine self-acceptance. He has lived for forty years with his face and has come to view it as "a gift," a phrase that suggests he has integrated his appearance into his identity in a healthy, accepting way. His desire for a simple photograph suggests he has no illusions about improving himself; he merely wants an honest record of how he actually looks. His humility—emphasizing that his appearance is "humble though the gift may have been"—suggests mature acceptance of his limitations.

However, the waiting period at the photographer's studio reveals how fragile this self-acceptance is. One hour of exposure to magazine photographs of beautiful models is sufficient to undermine his confidence and create "a sense of inferiority and perfectionism." His self-acceptance, which had seemed secure after forty years, proves vulnerable to social comparison and exposure to idealized images. This vulnerability suggests that self-acceptance is not an individual achievement that remains stable once achieved, but an ongoing practice that must be actively maintained against constant cultural messaging that promotes dissatisfaction.

The photographer's criticism further erodes the narrator's self-acceptance. Though the narrator initially tolerates the photographer's negative comments about his appearance, the repeated criticism and physical manhandling gradually undermine his confidence. The photographer's casual statement that he could improve the face "three quarters full" makes the narrator momentarily glad, suggesting that even his moments of resistance to the photographer's critique are fragile and temporary.

The moment at which the narrator reasserts his self-acceptance—when he says "Listen! I wanted something that my friends might keep after my death, to reconcile them to my loss"—reveals that he must actively reclaim his self-acceptance by consciously rejecting the photographer's standards. He must draw himself up, animate his features, and speak "with a withering scorn" to reassert that his face is his own and worthy of being represented honestly. Self-acceptance must be defended through active assertion against systems designed to undermine it.

The narrator's final breakdown into tears suggests that even his active reassertion of self-acceptance is insufficient against systematic forces designed to promote perfectionism and improvement. The photographer continues to suggest alterations, seemingly incapable of understanding or respecting the narrator's assertion of his own worth. The system is designed to override individual assertions of self-acceptance, replacing them with professional standards that position the human body as raw material for improvement.

Leacock's portrayal thus reveals that self-acceptance in modern society is not a simple virtue that can be achieved once and maintained passively. It is an ongoing practice that must be actively defended against pervasive cultural messaging, consumer systems, and professional authorities who have financial and psychological investments in promoting dissatisfaction and the pursuit of improvement. The narrator's journey suggests that maintaining self-acceptance in a society obsessed with enhancement is a form of resistance that requires constant vigilance and courage, and is often ultimately defeated by systems too powerful for individual assertion to overcome.

The photographer's profession is not incidental to the story's meaning; it is central to Leacock's critique of modern society. Photography functions simultaneously as an actual profession being critiqued and as a metaphor for broader systems of representation, control, and commodification that characterize modern consumer culture.

Photography is particularly significant because it represents the promise of objective truth and authentic representation. A photograph is supposed to capture reality as it actually is. Yet Leacock demonstrates that modern photography has become a vehicle for artificial enhancement and distortion. The photographer uses his "drawing calibre and techniques" to extensively alter the image, creating something that is neither objective nor authentic. The profession that promised truth has become a instrument of deception and manipulation.

This distortion is not incidental to photography but structural to it. The photographer begins with criticism and dissatisfaction. He cannot simply capture what exists; he must improve it according to his professional standards. His entire professional identity is built on the belief that what naturally exists is inadequate and requires his professional intervention. The profession is therefore systematically opposed to authenticity and acceptance; it requires the cultivation of dissatisfaction in order to justify professional intervention.

Photography also represents the visual culture of modern society more broadly. In a visually mediated society, how we appear is increasingly important to how we are perceived and valued. The photographer's refusal to simply capture the narrator's appearance reflects how modern visual culture systematically refuses to accept natural appearance and instead demands constant improvement, enhancement, and alteration. The profession of photography is not unique in this; it is simply one manifestation of broader cultural obsession with visual perfection.

Furthermore, photography represents a broader system of representation and commodification. The narrator's face is transformed into a commodity—something that is owned and controlled by the photographer, something that can be altered and improved according to professional standards, something that is valuable not for its authenticity but for its ability to demonstrate professional skill. The photographer's attitude toward the photograph—that it is his masterpiece to be kept and shown to family and friends—reveals how the profession transforms personal representation into professional property.

The profession also represents the power dynamics between professionals and clients in modern consumer culture. The photographer's authority as a professional overrides the narrator's authority over his own appearance. The narrator's wishes and purposes are systematically disregarded in favor of the photographer's professional vision. The profession establishes a hierarchy in which professional expertise is treated as more valid than the client's own knowledge of his appearance and purposes. This power imbalance is not unique to photography; it characterizes many professional relationships in which technical expertise is treated as justifying override of client autonomy.

Finally, the photography profession is significant because it represents the mediation of reality through professional systems. The narrator cannot simply be remembered by his friends; he must be represented through photography. The event of taking a photograph should be transparent—simply capturing what exists—but instead it becomes the site of profound manipulation and alteration. Leacock suggests that modern systems that claim to represent reality actually systematically distort it according to their own professional and commercial interests. We increasingly live in a world where professional mediation of reality is unavoidable, yet the profession systematically distorts rather than captures what is real.

Through the photography profession, therefore, Leacock critiques: the visual culture that demands constant enhancement; the professional systems that override client autonomy; the commodification of personal appearance; the transformation of authentic representation into professional property; and the broader tendency of modern systems to mediate and distort reality according to their own interests rather than in service to human truth and authenticity. The profession becomes a vehicle for examining how modern society has become organized around principles that are fundamentally opposed to authenticity, autonomy, and genuine human connection.