“Is it me?”, I asked.

Have you had an instance where you had wondered if the person in the picture is you? Has your photo been photoshopped to the point where it departs from resemblance to you? If so, the quote will be relatable. 

Stephen Leacock, a Canadian writer, is best known for his humor. Through his light-hearted and humorous writings, he brings out the follies in people. His essay ‘With the Photographer’, as the title suggests, gives an encounter between the narrator and a photographer. The narrator enters the studio and takes his seat. The photographer remarks on the narrator’s face and how he doesn’t like it.

“The face is quite wrong,” he said.

“I know,” I answered quietly, ”I have always known it.” 

The photographer further instructs on how to pose and this forms a funny narrative in the essay. This also reminds us how we are often told by the photographers when we go to the studio. The photographer keeps stressing on the narrator’s face which makes him angry. Unable to withstand such remarks, the narrator utters these words.

“Stop,” I said with emotion but, I think, with dignity. “The face is my face. It is not yours, it is mine. I’ve lived with it for forty years and I know its faults, I know it is out of drawing. I know it wasn’t made for me, but it’s my face, the only one I have–”…”such as it is, I’ve learned to love it.”

The passage also makes us think about ourselves. Instead of resenting ourselves for not reaching the so-called beauty standards, we should learn to accept and love ourselves for who we are. We may not be beautiful but there is no fault in it. It is no mistake. Learning to love ourselves is the first step to a happy life.

Not heeding to his words, the photographer takes a picture of the narrator when he was speaking. The photographer asks the narrator to come again on Saturday to get the picture. When the narrator visits the studio on Saturday, he is bewildered at the photograph of him. The photo no longer looks like him and the reason is because the photographer had retouched it. This ‘retouch’ can be considered as a photoshop of that age. He had used chemicals like Delphide and Sulphide to ‘retouch’ the picture. The photographer is proud of the changes he made in the photograph and how he made the ugly features of the narrator look good. This only angers the narrator.

“Listen! I came here for a photograph – a picture – something which would have looked like me. I wanted something that would depict my face as Heavens gave it to me, humble though the gift may have been. I wanted something that my friends might keep after my death, to reconcile them to my loss. It seems that I was mistaken. What I wanted is no longer done. …”

Spilling these words, the narrator leaves the studio with tears. Though the essay seems funny, it leaves a room for profound discussion.