(A photo is a
fragment of a time that won't come again.)
- Martine
Franck
„Since
O'Jack was the only photographer that I knew, I asked him to teach me
everything about photography“, Mr Tuniak said. “O'Jack was of
course willing to help, but he didn't have an unlimited amount of
time. He did recommend me several schools that offered training
courses and seminars.”
“And
you went there?”, I asked.
Alexander
came home and threw his backpack on the ground. It slithered several
metres across the floor and nearly landed in the fire place, where
Mowgli was just starting a fire.
“Do
you want me to burn that too?”, Mowgli asked.
“I
guess they didn't take you at the school”, Sarina said. She was
lying on the couch in the living room and looked up from her
newspaper.
“No,
they have”, Alexander said, but he didn't seem particularly happy
about the news.
“So,
what's the problem then?”, Mowgli asked.
“Do
you know how long it takes to become a professional photographer?”,
Alexander asked. “And according to the curriculum, most of it is
just sitting in a room and listening to someone talking about theory.
If I wanted that, I would have stayed at the university.”
“I
really doubt it will be like that”, Sarina said. “But if you
don't want to study, you better look for a job where you don't have
to learn anything.”
“It's
not learning that I have a problem with”, Alexander said. “It's
the way things are taught.”
“Is
school going to be very different in the future?”, Mowgli asked.
“I
don't know”, Alexander admitted. “Once the 21st
century starts, everyone will be using digital cameras, so it's no
use going there. Oh!”
“What?”,
Mowgli asked.
“I
could travel into the past and learn everything about photography
there”, Alexander said. “I'll learn all the necessary things. The
principles haven't changed that much, I'm sure. And I can quickly
catch up on the few things that have changed. Without wasting several
years. Sarina!”
“I
know, I know.” Sarina sighed. “You want me to help you find out
everything about the early pioneers of photography. The day after
tomorrow, ok?”
“Back
then I developed a method of learning I kept for the rest of my
life”, Mr Tuniak said.
“Travelling
back to the beginning of whatever profession interested you and
learning it from the ground up?”, I asked.
“Not
just professions”, Mr Tuniak said. “Later, a lot later, when I
learned to drive a car, I did the same thing. Technologies might
change, but the principles and theories behind them rarely do.”
“So
you always got your knowledge from the people who invented the things
you were interested in?”, I asked.
“Precisely.
And it has proved to be quite useful. When my cars broke down, for
instance, I was able to repair them myself most of the time.”
“And
where did you go to become a photographer?”
“Well,
photography was basically invented in the late 1820ies in France. So
that's where I went first”, Mr Tuniak explained. “But I didn't
stay long. The methods were too different then. It took another
twenty years, before the process started to resemble the one used in
my present.”
“Your
present being the 1970ies?”, I asked to clarify.
“Yes”,
Mr Tuniak said. He put a photo album on the table. “Do you want to
see some of my first shots?” He opened it. Right on the first page
there was a picture of him, around the age of 25. It was slightly
smaller than the size of the average playing card and the name
'Alexander Khanna' was written below it. “That's the name I used
back then”, Mr Tuniak explained. “I claimed to come from Indian
aristocracy and this was my carte de
visite. Coming from a noble family, I
was able to sponsor several inventors without attracting attention.”
“How
did you get the necessary money?”
“I'm
a time traveller, it's easy. And I had the help of the Spider and
Philip has always been one of the wealthiest people on the planet”,
Mr Tuniak laughed. “Of course, none of the inventors every actually
asked me, where I got my money. Most of them were happy about the
financial support I offered and allowed me to test or use their
inventions in return.”
“Doesn't
that mean that modern photography was developed thanks to you?”, I
asked.
“Yes,
in part, although I didn't realise it at the time.” For a moment
there was a strange look on Mr Tuniak's face, a mixture of sadness
and regret. Then he turned the page. There were a lot of photos in
the album and every single one told a story.
“What
is that?”, Alice asked, as Alexander was leaving the time machine.
In his hands he was holding something that she had thought to be a
rifle at first. But the barrel was too short for that and at its end
there was big, black wheel.
“My
good friend Jules let me borrow it”, Alexander said. “Or I'm sure
he would have, if I had asked him.”
“You
stole it?”, Alice asked.
“I
paid for it... more or less”, Alexander said. “And I will take it
back.” He pointed to the time machine behind him. “He won't even
notice that it was gone.”
“And
what is it?”
“ A
fusil photographique”,
Alexander said. “A camera gun.”
Together they entered the villa, where they found Mowgli.
“Are
you planning to join a hunting party?”, he asked grimacing.
“Don't
worry, the only thing this gun shoots is photos”, Alexander assured
him. “It can shoot up to twelve photos in one second. Now: Where
are your dogs, I want to test it?”
He turned a page.
Several days later Alexander returned again with a new camera. This
one looked as if someone had taken two separate cameras and melted
them together.
“Where
have you been this time?”, Bill asked during dinner.
“1902
or 1903, I think”, Alexander answered.
“And
what kind of camera is that?”
“A
3D-camera”, Alexander explained. “It shoots two photos at the
same time from slightly different angles. Combining these two
pictures, you can then create a 3D photo.”
“Like
that film they showed in cinemas some time ago?”, Mowgli asked.
“The Frankenstein film?”
“Oh,
that one was terrible”, Alice said. She shuddered visibly. “Those
are ninety minutes of my life I'd like to forget.”
He turned a page.
Alexander had asked during dinner if someone wanted to accompany him
the next day. He said that he would follow a camera man who was
shooting footage of a war for news reels. But the way he said it,
seemed off to his friends. He asked them with a smile and not at all
in the manner of someone who was going to see a battle field with
hundreds of dead soldiers the next day.
Mowgli and Sarina decided to take him up on his offer.
“Here
we are”, Alexander declared. “England, 1897.”
“There
was no war in England at that time”, Sarina said.
“Not
in England, no, but it is the time of the Greco-Turkish-War.”
They exited the time machine and Alexander led them along a road and
into a small village. They continued walking. At the other side of
the village they came upon several trenches. Soldiers were sitting on
top of them and were talking with each other and drinking tea. Some
way ahead there were additional fortifications and several officers
were exercising their horses.
“What
kind of war is that?”, Mowgli asked. Then he saw the spot lights
and cameras. “That's a film set! They are shooting a film!”
“We
are doing a report”, one of the camera operators said. He greeted
Alexander, whom he had met before, and showed the three of them
around.
“Does
that mean you are re-creating the battles of the war here with
actors? And the stuff you shoot here you are presenting as 'real'
footage in the news reels?”, Sarina asked. The idea of reporters
lying that openly and blatantly to their audience seemed to be a
personal insult to her.
“Of
course”, the camera operator replied. “It's much safer here than
on a real battlefield. And the light is also better.” He lit a
cigarette. “I had a friend, went to Mexico to film some rebels and
their attacks there. Had a terrible time getting shots that he could
use... Finally, he had to ask the rebels to attack only during the
day, because he needed the sun light to shoot. Lucky for him, they
agreed, because they wanted to be filmed as much as he wanted to film
them. I guess Villiers is having similar problems right now.”
“There
was one disadvantage in the way I was pursuing my... education”, Mr
Tuniak said. “I learned everything a professional photographer
should know, but I had no way to prove it.”
“You
had no references you could show in your job interviews”, I said.
“Couldn't you fake them again?”
“I
could have, but I chose another way. I asked O'Jack and he suggested
to put together a portfolio of my work. If it was good enough, if it
was liked, then no one would ask about my qualifications. But of
course the catch was that I had to have not only very good photos,
but if possible photos very few other people ever shot.”
“So
what did you do?”
“Doryanthes
in Australia!” Alexander put the encyclopaedia down on the table
and pointed to the drawing. “That's what I want to shoot.”
“But
you haven't even visited London's sewers yet”, Mowgli said. “Maybe
you'll find some crocodiles there.”
Alexander
ignored the laughter of the others that followed this remark. To get
photos for his portfolio he had returned to the sewers of Paris to
get a good shot of a rat king, a very rare animal and one he had
discovered by accident several years ago. He had then heard rumours
of crocodiles living in the sewers of New York and spent three days
there trying to get a picture of them too. Without success. In the
end he had had to admit that the animals didn't exist.
“It's
only blooming every ten years or so”, said Sarina, who had quickly
read the entry in the encyclopaedia. “That would be a very rare
photo.”
“And
she can survive bush fires”, Alexander added. “I can already
imagine the photo: A burnt wasteland, ashes everywhere and then,
right in the middle a single flower in full bloom.”
“Can
I come with you?”, Alice asked and Bill decided to join him as
well.
The next
several days they spent in Australia and tried to locate the flower.
They read old news paper reports to find out when and where the last
big bush fires had taken place and this way found a very likely date
and location for Alexander's photo.
“It's
going to be unique, I promise you that”, Alexander said. The time
machine had just arrived at their destination. “We'll be the only
people who'll ever shoot a photo like that.”
But as
Alexander exited, he saw that the flower was not alone. It was
surrounded by a dozen people. They were all Alexander himself.
“What
am I doing here?”, Alexander asked, but the others just waved and
grinned.
Alice
repeated the question and one of the other Alexanders took her aside
and answered her quietly. “The first photo he's going to shoot
won't be good”, he explained. “And he won't like the second one
that much either. He – or I – will return several times here,
before getting a perfect picture.”
The photo of
the Doryanthes flower was on the final page of the album. It really
was perfect.
NEXT WEEK:
Once more upon the waters! Yet once more!
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