It was going to be a good and relaxed meeting. We had planed to see the Da Vinci show at the Metropolitan and then The Struth show. F. was supposed to meet me on the by the entrance to the Asian collection at the Met. I have not seen him since last year, before Christmas. We should meet every two weeks for two hours at least. We are both participants in the Mentoring program, organized by the Board of Education of the City of New York and the AIGA. F. is an incredibly talented High-school student, and I guess I am officially his mentor. We might not have met in person a lot in the last few weeks, but at least we do have quite insightful frequent phone conversations. He had seen the Da Vinci show in a special preview already, and I hoped that he would be able to show me more than I would usually see as a first time visitor.
I had brought my Pinhole camera. He had mentioned that there were some drawings about optical studies in the show and so what better thing to do than to shoot some pictures of the museum with a device Leonardo most likely used on one way or another. (He certainly did not have Polaroid ISO 3000 film, of course.)
I should have predicted that the museum would be crowded. There was an enormous line for the Da Vinci show, of course. It was more serious than anything I have ever seen at the Met, a line around half of the grand , about four visitors wide, all contained by velvet ropes. It was pretty clear that we would not get to see the show today. We still could exchange some ideas about the Struth show, of course, and take some pinhole pictures somewhere in the galleries. I was the first one at the museum and could not wait to try out the camera of course.
The view from the grand seemed quite perfect for the first shot, maybe because of the masses of people upstairs and downstairs. The scenery looked especially interesting because of the two large projections on the entrance-hall-walls. Two larger than life Struth portraits, silent faces, looking almost expressionless into the camera.
I pulled out my tiny table tripod, attached my wooden box to it and setup the contraption on one of the wide pillars of the marble balustrade. I added the polaroid back to my box, pulled out a sheet of high speed film, pushed it into my polaroid back, pulled out the protective pocket, opened the hole cover, took a glimpse at my watch to measure one minute, my first estimated exposure time.
One really beautiful thing about long exposures for me is the increased awareness of things during the time when the lens (or in this case a tiny punctured hole) is open. What would the world feel like if we could be as aware of the world at all times. Looked down at the crowd I knew that most of the visitors would disappear if only looked at long enough. A one minute exposure should turn the completely packed entrance hall into a temple of shadows. Two minutes would leave more and more of the picture just to the architecture. It is so difficult to imagine the effect, until the photograph comes out of the camera.
The minute was over and I pushed the paper with the chemicals back into my Polaroid back. I switched the lever on "develop" and pulled out the whole pack in one quick move. After just 15 seconds of development time, out came a pretty unexpected image of the grand hall. I really had not composed the shot. It was just a first setup. I did not really know what to expect. I must have smiled a happy smile.
"I hope you are just taking a picture..." said the first guard. I was so excited I showed him the result. "Yes, this is a pinhole camera, and it really takes picture, isn't it amazing?" he was not impressed. I opened the box for him and he just looked at me as if I were a little nuts.
The second guard, an older man, was less forgiving. He was a little out of breath when he arrived in full gear and with his much taller female partner. "Please take this down now!" he pointed at the camera.
He explained to me that I was not allowed to shoot in the museum. I had to get a permit from the security desk. Somebody had seen me on the security camera and they were not quite sure what I was doing with my wooden box on three black metal legs. I had to pack my stuff, go down to get my special permit. As I was walking towards the stairs, the first guard apologized. He had just been told that I would not be allowed to take any pictures with a tripod. Making my picture-taking with the camera obscura about as impossible as a quiet visit of the Leonardo show.
I ran into F. on the stairs. He was a little late and had missed act one of the security-show.
The man at the security desk was waiting for me. He was a bit less friendly then the other men. He gave me a printout outlining the "Gallery Photography Policy" which explained in often very bold type that I was not allowed to take any pictures at the museum and then to publish them, no matter in what medium. The tripod policy was indeed a real one. I was prohibited from using such a dangerous device on Saturdays and Sundays. The gentleman pointed at the crowd. I nodded.
Great. At least I have one picture. I think I am allowed to show it here, as this is certainly not a commercial space.
We ended up seeing the Struth show. It is actually quite good. I will need to return on a weekday, of course. Maybe once my projects quiet down a tiny bit. I hope they will, for a tiny while.

Oh, almost forgot. Here is the photograph.