Op-Ed: Bloody Winter

Like clockwork, every year around winter time, the skin over my knuckles cracks and bleeds.

This phenomenon started around 12 years ago, on the occasion of the first wedding I was commissioned to photograph.

Back then I was just excited to land the job, I had no idea I was going to get a long-lasting ‘souvenir’.

As the bride glossed over my portfolio she declared she ‘loved‘ my creativity and insisted that she could have any photographer she wanted. She said money was no object and I, not knowing any better, was eager to believe her.

It was so flattering to be chosen out of all the professionals, the real photographers, considering I was just ‘starting’, surely my talent spoke for itself.

Not knowing the prices for wedding photography, we settled on only $500 (not including the expenses of film or it’s development. Yes, this was pre digital…) which should’ve tipped me off right away that something just wasn’t right, as most photographers charge loads more.

My best friend at the time was to serve as the second shooter and we were happy to split the small ‘fortune’ fifty-fifty considering we were both just Rabbinic students at the time making do with bare minimum. Both of us felt we scored big with this lucrative deal and were surfing on a high wave.

With luck on our side, the night of the wedding was hailed as the coldest night of the decade, or was it the century?
It was cold, really really cold.

The ceremony was, of course, held outside, with the black skies above us and the numbing chilly air serving as a blanket, covering the shivering cool crowd.

There we were, both running around like meshuganes, documenting the event as it was unfolding in the most photojournalistic way known to us. We were using a mixture of color and black and white film to photograph a crowd that included woman who wore colored clothes and men who were wearing black and white.

I noticed that the gloves that I was wearing seemed to get in the way, so I removed the gloves and was relieved to find that all the controls were accessible and comfortably under my control.

As the minutes advanced, as I advanced the film, my fingers were getting colder and colder.

At one point in the middle of the ceremony, as I was changing film, I was shocked to see that my hands were covered with blood, my own blood.

The extremely low temperature had stung my sensitive hand skin producing dark stains of blood on my hands, which also dripped on my camera.

Soon after I learned my hands were bleeding, I started noticing that I couldn’t feel my fingers anymore, my hands were frozen!

In the midst of the climax of the wedding ceremony I couldn’t run out to care for myself, or just run away period, I was stuck in a situation that reeked of disaster, meanwhile all I could think of was the bride and groom and how important this event was for them.

Instead of giving the bare minimum, I strongly felt I had to give the most I could possibly give in all ways possible.

Rubbing my hands or putting the gloves back on didn’t help any, but miraculously enough, I managed to get by with pressing the shutter button, but there was one problem…

An extreme paranoia had set in me, I believed that I either had already broken my fingers, or that I might break my fingers while operating the camera.

Was I pressing the shutter button too strongly?

Was my wrestling with the film door to change rolls of film jeopardizing my bones?

My failed attempts at opening the film door added another layer of desperation to my introduction to wedding photography, which by now proved to be a bona fide nightmare.

My friend, the second photographer, was snapping away somewhere beyond my reach or calls for help, so I resorted to breaking whatever professional decorum I was holding unto, and asked one of the guests to help me out.

I explained that my fingers were frozen solid and that I needed urgent assistance to open the film door, remove the used film and insert a new roll into the camera.

This heaven sent photo assistant enabled me to keep snapping, changing roll after roll, all the while, I did not know if I was photographing with broken fingers…

“I’ll know if they are OK in the hall” I said to myself, as I kept looking for interesting moments to immortalize.

Finally at the hall, my fingers were resurrected with some warm water which also washed away all evidence of any artistic self sacrifice.

I started to feel them and I was overjoyed to discover that I hadn’t broken anything. I sighed a sigh of relief, thank G-d, all was well!

After the experience of a photographic work hazard, the evening progressed beautifully, while the only witness to my personal plight outdoors at the ceremony was the guest, the angel who helped me, who danced the night away while I clicked the shutter away.

A few days after the wedding I excitedly delivered the rolls of film. Soon thereafter, I was asked to attend an emergency meeting with the newlyweds.

My naïve expectations were sky high, perhaps a generous tip for the outstanding job we performed against all odds, however instead I got something, uhm, quite different.

The young couple were furious with me. I was stunned and speechless.

Apparently, the angry couple didn’t anticipate 30 rolls of film, even though they did mention quietly in passing that they did love the rolls they had developed.

Instead of being saluted with lavish praise for going all out, which I was expecting, I had to deal with a young couple who wanted to eat me alive, because they just didn’t want to pay to develop all the film!

I worked too hard and gave them too many pictures. Instead of valuing the extra strips of film, they were having a blast letting off steam by whipping me with the negatives.

I somehow neutralized the crazy scene in their tiny kitchen by saying I was never asked to limit my output, and in addition, I was under the impression that they cared about quality and creativity, so I gave my very best. Most people would pay a lot more for all this, if anything, someone should complain of not having enough pictures or that their photographer hadn‘t worked hard…

I got the rest of the money, aside for the deposit before the wedding, and I heard through the grapevine, to top it all off, that this couple were giving me free publicity, they were telling people not to use me.

A few years after this wedding I met the groom who smiled at me and proudly declared he still didn’t develop all the rolls of film from his wedding. I have to say I was completely taken aback by the lack of appreciation for all my efforts. If he already had the rolls of his own wedding, and he admitted that they were stunning (I have to take his word for it since I never got to see them), what point is he proving by not developing all of them and letting these memories collect dust? I just didn’t get it.

This first wedding was an undeniable explosive crash course in the bittersweet inner dynamics and potential traumatic mishaps of event photography, business and human relations.

Looking back, I can only shrug my shoulders, but honestly speaking, I am most amazed with myself that I ever touched a camera again.

If only I had known about contracts were expectations are clear.
If only I had known about reasonable pricing and not been taken advantage of.
If only I had been more prepared and bought some photographers gloves.
If only I had developed the film myself so I could see my pictures.
If only I had developed a few of the images to showcase them in my portfolio.
If only I had done all these things, but I didn’t; alas, it was the first time I declared ‘I hate photography‘.

Nevertheless, with all of my shortcomings, I did it! My first big job. I did the best I could (back then, I have improved since then).

And I was proud of myself, even though I had to deal with a situation that was beyond difficult in almost every way.

Every winter since then, I get a bloody reminder of that wedding ceremony, since it seems that the skin on my hands doesn’t want me to forget.

Perhaps it’s just a random souvenir of one of my first major jobs, in which I barely yet miraculously survived, but my Rabbinic training has made me look at everything with transcendental eyes, making me believe that surely there’s a special meaning to everything, also to this.

After some thought I came up with a personal insight: I concluded that it’s not just a reminder but a lesson about personal triumph.

Based on this little escapade, I’ve invented my own definition of personal victory.

When you give your very best under even occasionally horrible conditions, even if these efforts are underappreciated by others or receive little notice, that is personal triumph and victory, since the goal is, essentially, to do all you can to do the right thing.

Inspired by the Baal Shem Tov’s teaching that from all one sees and hears, from all of one’s experiences, a person should apply it as a lesson in Avodas Hashem, serving G-d, my personal lesson takes a deeper more particular twist.

Cosmically speaking, for a Jew,’ to do the right thing ’ means to do G-d’s will, which means to actually perform His Mitzvos, the commandments, and to learn His Torah, every person according to their own level and capabilities.
This task could be at times met with harsh challenges from our surroundings (and from within) that threaten to freeze any attempt to connect ourselves with the divine with opposition as fierce as a painfully cold winter.

It’s not coincidental that in the Shulchan Aruch, the monumental work that codifies Jewish laws that encompass the basic requirements of every Jew throughout life, mentions in it’s very first law an interesting foundational teaching.
‘An individual shouldn’t be ashamed of doing G-d’s commandments because of scoffers‘.
Being laughed at or looked down on for doing a Mitzvah creates a very harsh environment that could not only ‘inspire’ someone to just do the bare minimum rather than their very best in effort and intent, it could eradicate everything, G-d forbid.

Hence the first Halacha, law, includes this vital guideline which could enable everything else, being and living Judaism in a proud and expansive manner because of the ultimate importance in performing all the Mitzvos. All this, even if instead of receiving praise, an individual receives a chilly rebuke by friends, family or others.

A person might also feel alone in their plight in the freezing cold, attempting to ascend in their spirituality, however there is always that One witness and constant helper even in a winter night that might be the coldest of the decade or century, the creator of heaven and earth. He surely appreciates and applauds any such act of kosher connection to Him.

Since the actual performance of Mitzvos and learning our Torah is our spiritual job here on earth, the career that precedes anything else, my personal victory definition takes on a more particular twist.

When a Jew is moved to do their utmost, sincerely in any realm of Torah and Mitzvos, whether they are ‘advanced’ or just ‘starting’, even if these efforts are underappreciated by others or receive little positive notice, no matter how small a Mitzvah it might seem to be or no matter how insignificant a detail of a mitzvah one may pay special attention to, every such deed is a personal triumph, since our highest goal is, essentially, to do all we can do, in our everyday life, to do G-d’s will, to be victorious against all odds.

Rabbi Bentzion Elisha is an award winning photographer (ElishaArt.Com) and writer. He resides with his family in NYC.