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Nine? Me? Why do I have to be a nine? One away from ten. Why? I want to be a ten. Just once. Oh. I know. The number doesn’t really carry any significance here, it only announces our order. But. Still. I want to represent the symbolism of TEN just once.

I approached my classmates, who were obediently getting into a long, straight line by appointed number. We were taking a class called, “Your Authentic Image” taught by Carl Studna and his wife, Cynthia James. We were being inundated with exercises to make us more comfortable on stage and in front of a camera.

A tall, slim woman smiled and confidently announced her ten-ship.

Yeah. How come she got to be ten? Top ten. Her. Lucky Ten. Our culture’s symbolism of supreme perfection and she landed it. That meant she would get to date the best men, land the coolest jobs and be awarded the ‘Bo Derek body’ for life.

Hey. Could I steal her position?

“Eleven.” I lied. “I’m eleven.” Ten unknowingly stepped in front of me. Ok. So. Now that she stepped into the nine spot, that really makes HER nine and me ten, right? See. Cheaters do win.

Carl called out from the stage. “Be sure you line up in order. I don’t want you to get someone else’s photos in the mail.”

I regarded the real ten. Did I want a photo of a classy blonde woman dripping with diamonds hanging on my wall? Um. No. How would I ever explain her to my friends?

I tapped her shoulder. “Actually, I’m nine. I only wanted to experience being ten for a moment.”

She laughed and quickly moved behind me, taking ownership of her ten spot.

Tonight Carl Studna would take portrait photographs of each of us. Yeah. I know. We couldn’t believe it either. Fifty portraits in one night? Carl is a world class photographer whose photos have been published in everything from Time Magazine to Rolling Stone. He typically takes photos of important people like the Dali Lama, Paul McCartney and Eric Clapton. But tonight he would take fifty people and make them look great.

And he’s just the man to do it. My favorite of all the Studna photos is the shots he had taken of regular, everyday people. He has a way of bringing out people’s inner beauty, making them all look like supermodels. Um. Could he do that with plain-Jane-nine me? Could he find my inner ten?

Carl finished preparing the professional photo set he had put together. He didn’t have any of the flimsy photography equipment I remember using in college. There were huge white discs, big flashes on tripods and an umbrella looking thing that likely had an important job that had nothing to do with rain.

“I’m going to turn up the music, now.” He announced. “Your job, while you’re waiting for your turn, is to encourage the person who is getting his or her photo taken.”

The music went up and the class started dancing in numerical order to the tune. It wasn’t music you could sing along to. Too bad. I think I might photograph better if the soundtrack from Mary Poppins were belting out, “Just a Spoonful of Sugar.” Bet I’d smile all day. You know. A sweet, natural smile.

One bounded up the stairs, full of smiles. How had she known to dress up for tonight? She was directed to sit backwards on a chair, resting her hands on the chair’s back. She faced Carl and put on a frozen smile.

Now. Most cameras would have captured that smile. I should know. I have a photo album filled with the very same smile depicted over and over again. But, Carl knew better.

“Good. That’s really good.” He said softly. “Now. I want you to breathe for me.”

One wilted. That was her best smile. Her mask smile. The one she showed all the time to everyone. It was her signature. She smiled again, only this time her eyes tensed up. It’s not easy to relax when your classmates are watching you get photographed by a world famous photographer.

“That’s so much better.” Carl coached. “See how breathing relaxes you?”

One nodded slightly as she continued breathing.

Flash. Photo one had been taken.

One raised her eyebrows. What had she done? She had passed the relaxation test. But. How?

I studied One’s relaxation technique. Could I copy it when it was my turn?

“Now.” Carl said. “Turn a little to the left.”

One started to turn her head.

Flash. Flash. Flash.

She opened her eyes, bewildered. He got three more photos out of a mere turn of her head? What had she done? How had she done it? She tensed up. Her smile froze. Her eyes glassed over.

Carl nodded his head. “You’re doing so well. Now. This time I want you to lean forward and slump down over the back of the chair.”

One looked down towards the floor. How should she slump down? She looked back up. She was about to ask for more direction when it happened again.

Flash. Flash.

One scrunched up her face. Two? He got two more?

“Great.” Carl smiled. “That’s six.”

One stood up slowly as we cheered for her success. She was done.

I had learned nothing from One’s session. Breathing did help her relax. But, come on. That looked like hard work. Um. Why was smiling so tough?

Two climbed the stairs. He was a big guy who had dabbled in big city politics. He had been a star pupil, very comfortable doing all the stage work that was required in the class. He sat in the chair, put on his power look, and nodded that he was ready.

Carl lowered the camera. “Ok. Great. That’s really good. Now. I’d like you to turn your head a little to the right.”

Two was surprised. He had been photographed from this left angle hundreds, no thousands of times. Turn to the side? His face froze as he took on the deer-in-the headlight look.

Um. If Two was frozen up there, can you imagine what would happen to me? I’m figuring projectile vomit. You know. All over the photographer. Or. Maybe I’d hit the audience too. Could that be what the umbrella was for? You know. So Carl could protect himself from flying bodily fluids?

“Say, ‘Yes!” Carl said.

“yes.”

“Say, ‘Yes!”

“Yes.”

“Good. Say, Yes!”

“Yes!”

Flash. Flash.

Two relaxed. Ok. Maybe he wasn’t a total failure. He tensed again. He had four more pictures to go.

“That was great.” Carl said. “Really good. Now I want you to lean forward and slump down over the back of the chair.”

Two appeared to be a professional slumper. The farther he slumped, the more his eyes sparkled.

Flash. Flash. Flash. Three fast ones. So fast it was as if there was only one total flash.

Two leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a second. Almost there. He was almost there.

I relaxed. See. Carl knew how to make people relax. I’d be just fine up there. What’s so tough about smiling? So what if my classmates were watching? It’s just a little smile, right?

“You’re doing great.” Carl said. “Say, ‘Huh!”

“Huh!” Two relaxed. He looked confident. His eyes sparkled. “Huh!” He smiled a conspirator’s smile.

Flash.

“Good job. You’re done.”

When it was my turn to go up onto the stage, I didn’t bound up lightly, as I had planned. Um. Where was that relaxation I was feeling only moments ago? Gone. So very gone.

I walked slowly onto the stage. Was it cold in here? There was no way I could smile. I would be the ONLY one who couldn’t relax. This had nothing to do with not being photogenic. I felt a true photo-disability coming on. Um. This wasn’t going to be easy.

I wondered how many people blacked out when Carl photographed them? It was too late for me to run screaming out the back door. I never got nervous when my good friend, Ralph took my picture. I knew I could blame him when my photo turned out to look like I was really Attila’s double, which it often did. Now. Who would I blame when tonight’s photo turned out all wrong? The umbrella looking thing?

I sat backwards on the chair and gritted my teeth.

“Let’s start with breathing.” Carl said.

I dropped my shoulders and took several deep breaths. When did breathing become this difficult? I wanted to write ‘Scaredy Cat’ across my forehead. It didn’t help that my classmates were watching my big failure. I could hear them calling support up to me, but started wondering if they were supportive of a failure or a perfect photo shoot.

“Ok.” He said. “Turn your head to the right.”

I did. No flash. Let me guess. Deer look? Too sickly? Bad angle? Dinner time?

“Good.” He said. “Now. Say, “Yes!”

“yes?”

“Good. Say, ‘Yes!”

I breathed in and out. Come on. I could do this. All I had to do was relax. “yes.”

Flash.

Wow. I looked at him and smiled. My eyes sparkled. I had just earned a flash. I felt like a child in school who had just earned her first gold star.

Flash. Flash.

Really? Two more flashes? Just for a smile? Really? Well… let me show him my BEST smile. I pasted my cheesiest grin across my face.

He lowered the camera. “That’s really good. Now I want you to relax over the back of the chair.” He lifted the camera. “Lean forward over the back of the chair and slump down.”

I tried to slump. Wilt. Big major wilt for me. I remembered the years of piano lessons where my hunch back piano teacher would point to the hump in the middle of her back as proof of what happened to slumpers. Do you have any idea how a hump becomes instilled in the mind of a small child? Yeah. Well. I’ve never slumped again. Well. Hardly.

I know. I know. Slumping for a flash of a second wouldn’t give me a hump. But. It did take away my smile.

“Good.” Carl said. “Now. Sit back up.”

Oh. Good. I smiled. No more slumping. I exhaled slowly.

Flash.

I bit my lip. This made no sense at all. I wasn’t smiling-happy in the last picture. I was smiling, but I wasn’t happy. I didn’t get this at all. Aren’t people who photograph well happy on the inside? Where was my inner smile and how could I get it to shine through?

Carl lowered the camera and stepped forward. “You’re doing great. You have nothing to do but breathe and feel the presence.” He breathed with me, while looking into my eyes.

Inhale. Exhale. And. For one moment, I forgot about my classmates cheering for me. Inhale. Exhale. I forgot about the big camera and how uncomfortable it was to sit backwards in a chair. Inhale. Exhale. I was breathing with another person. Inhale. Exhale. My nine-ship didn’t matter. Inhale. Exhale. Just breathing. That’s all. Inhale. Exhale. Nothing else. Inhale. Exhale. Slowly my mask fell away.

Flash. Flash.

Wait. Was I smiling that time? Had my face relaxed? Were my eyes tense? I wasn’t ready.

“Great.” He smiled. “You’re done.”

Yeah. I walked off the stage knowing that there was a reason I didn’t pursue modeling as a career. Man. Talk about freezing up! Later I would be shocked to see the photos he took looked a lot like me. What? What happened? Me? I thought he might find someone else inside when he took my photo. You know. Some undiscovered model-movie star. Um. Nope. He found the me inside of me.

You know. I guess I’m ok with that nine, after all. Cause. I’d hate to give anyone the wrong impression. You know. That I’m a symbol of supreme perfection. Because I’m far closer to ordinary. Oh. Sure. I’m perfectly ordinary, which is nothing to shake a stick at.
I accept my ordinariness with a big pat on my head. Hey. It’s who I really am. Ordinary Holly. And. No. I have no intention of working towards that ten.

Think I’ll stick with being the best nine I can be.

(**Check out Carl Studna’s webpage at www.carlstudna.com Be prepared to see incredible photos of music personalities, famous people and the regular everyday types too. Be sure to tell him Holly Sent you!)

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