The fear of overexposure

Should asking a stranger to take your picture go the way of the daguerreotype?

On a recent visit to Fallingwater in Pennsylvania, David Dausey felt that familiar pang of parental duty.

The father of two should snap a family photo and preserve this special moment for posterity. He considered his options. They could take a selfie, but their heads would eclipse Frank Lloyd Wright’s masterwork. He could press the button, sacrificing his own appearance in the portrait. Or he could enlist the services of a stranger. That once-harmless request is a risky proposition during a pandemic.

“If you want something that’s guaranteed to have droplets, it’s your phone,” said Dausey, an epidemiologist and provost at Duquesne University in Pittsburgh. “The smooth surface is ideal for spreading the virus.”

Asking a stranger to take your photo, or fulfilling the favour, could conceivably violate several guidelines from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. In addition to handling a hightouch surface, parties on both sides of the lens will need to cross the social distancing red line twice — once to hand over the gadget and again to retrieve it. In addition, most people remove their masks for photos.

Depending on the outcome of that encounter, your photo may mark an entirely different occasion.

“It’s possibly a dying art,” said Lee Abbamonte, the youngest American to visit every country in the world, often relying on others to take photos. “Maybe not on a golf course or hiking, but if I were in a super touristy place, I would have some serious concerns.”

In pre-coronavirus times, travellers would boldly approach passersby and hand over their camera or phone.

The rise of the selfie has weaned us off our dependency on randoms. David Campany, managing director of programs at the International Center of Photography in New York City, said the selfie is emblematic of a societal shift toward self-reliance and isolation. The photo-ask, he said, is a vestige of a more solicitous age.

“It has an old-fashioned feel to it,” he said. “You are trusting someone else to represent you. It’s a touching moment of social exchange.” I asked him whether it can survive the global crisis. “It

could be the death knell,” he replied. “Sad.”

Shakeemah Smith, a travel influencer, deems the habit an inconvenience that steals precious sand from her hourglass. However, when a family approached her in Antigua last month, she obliged.

“I felt that it would be somewhat rude to say no,” she said.

Professional photographers aren’t ready to write the eulogy yet. They say selfies are appropriate for playful, social-media-ready images, but if you want a well-composed group shot with context and complete human forms, you’ll need an assistant behind the lens.

“I recognize the challenge and pride in composing a good image, and there is an added level of pride when that shot is completely executed by oneself, of oneself,” said Eric Guth, a freelance photographer and instructor aboard Lindblad Expeditions/national Geographic vessels.

Guth considers the role of spontaneous documentarian an honour. “It’s often flattering when someone picks you out of the crowd to help them capture a lasting moment,” he said.

Rania Matar, a photographer and teacher at the Massachusetts College of Art and Design in Boston, embraces the human connection made in 1/60th of a second.

“Our connectivity is so important,” said Matar, who has spent the pandemic photographing Boston-area residents through their windows. “I don’t want to lose it.”