Page 1 of Picture Us

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DREW

This is so corny.

Drew, bathed in the red light of their darkroom, shook their head as they swished the tray of development liquid back and forth. They took in a deep breath as the picture on the photosensitive paper slowly appeared before their eyes.

It was a gorgeous image: a bride and groom delicately holding each other, the groom’s hand resting along the bride’s jawline. Not to mention the photo itself, in crisp black and white with the perfect contrast. Each of the subjects framed perfectly in the shot.

Drew rolled their eyes. They grabbed the eight by ten photo from the last tray and brought it to the clothesline, delicately pinned the print between two clothespins, and allowed it to drip over the sink.

Standing back for a moment, Drew stared at the photograph.Exposure is a little blown out.

But the order was due in just a few days, and the printing schedule was already so tight. Drew’s eyes darted to the analog watch on their wrist.

“Fuck, I need to start getting ready.” They set another photo to develop as they began collecting canisters of film from the cabinet in the darkroom. Stretching their arm to the back of the shelf and finding only empty air, they made a note to order more film.

Once the next photo was developed, they hung it on the line next to the first. This is what over an hour of film photography looked like.

Heading for the darkroom door, Drew did a quick scan for anything photosensitive. Their eyes caught on a piece of four by six paper sitting out by the enlarger. Darting across the creaky floors, they popped the paper into a drawer and took one last look at the hanging photographs.

They shrugged and went for the door, swinging it open.

“Eeeck,” Drew shivered at the thought of another engagement shoot.

Once the darkroom door was closed, they slid open the curtains that acted as a median between the darkroom and the bright light of Drew’s Lower East Side loft. Lifting a hand to cover their eyes, Drew tried to get their bearings in the massive studio as the bright afternoon sun bounced off the white, brick walls.

The black, multi-paned windows cast long shadows on the light wood floors of the loft.

Drew grabbed their camera bag from their bed, packing a Canon 35mm along with a few telephoto lenses. They straightened the white duvet, removing the crinkles the camera bag had left in its wake.

“Where is this thing again?” They asked themself, slinging the bag over their shoulder and heading to check their laptop.

Laid out on a desk larger than most dining room tables were dozens of photo scraps, negatives, and mounting boards. Drew flipped open their computer and quickly found the emails with Ellen about the time and location of the shoot.

Ellen had reached out because Finley was a fan of film photography, and she wanted to bring a special look to the engagement shoot for her soon-to-be fiancée. Of course, almost all of Drew’s clients were shocked by just how much more expensive their services were, but labor, supplies, and talent weren’t easy to come by. Besides, customers were never disappointed with the final product.

As they scrolled through their inbox, one email caught their eyes:

APPLY BY MIDNIGHT JUNE 1ST TO BE CONSIDERED

“Shit.” Drew rubbed their face. “That’s literally due in a week.”

They shook their head, knowing if they ever wanted out of these corny wedding and engagement shoots, they’d have to apply for more photojournalism competitions. But who had the time?

Looking around the loft at their old photographs, Drew bit their lip. They used to work on shoots that mattered, running into warzones and capturing the atrocities that were happening around the world. The gallery shows didn’t earn them much, but it was enough to pay their bills most months. Once that source of income dried up, they needed another way to make ends meet: enter wedding photography.

The jobs paid well, but it felt like a waste of their talent and passion. This grant could be their chance to finally break back into photojournalism and prove their talent. If they could throw together something in time for the deadline, that was.

They exhaled the breath they hadn’t realized they were holding, trying to release the anxiety around such a tight deadline.

The loud ring of their phone’s alarm brought them back to earth. Tucking their short, light brown hair into a baseball cap, Drew checked their pockets to make sure they had their light meter, wallet, and phone. Drew gripped the camera bag strap in their hands, their knuckles turning pale.

They grabbed their keys off of the hook by the towering, metal front door and swiftly left the apartment. Greeted by the flickering, fluorescent lights of the dank hallway, Drew hustled down the stairs and out into the busy streets of the Lower East Side.

Drew was surprised by the amount of foot traffic outside their building until they realized it must be lunchtime for most people working a nine-to-five. With a sigh, they made their way toward the subway that would take them to the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens.

Hopefully, this shoot is just easy money.

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