WITH THE PHOTOGRAPHER - Stephen Leacock
A. "After an hour the photographer opened the inner door.
"Come in," he said severely.
I went into the studio.
"Sit down," said the photographer.
I sat down in a beam of sunlight filtered through a sheet of factory cotton hung against
a frosted skylight."
1. Who is "I" in the above extract? Why was the photographer calling him to come
inside? Has the purpose of going inside the room been served?
→ The “I” in this passage is the story’s narrator, the same gentleman who entered the
photographer’s establishment an hour earlier asking, “I WANT my photograph taken.”
He has been waiting in the outer reception area, leafing through old magazines, until the
photographer, having completed whatever preliminary preparations were needed, opened
the inner door and summoned him into the studio.
The photographer calls him inside because the studio is where the actual portrait will be
made. In early twentieth-century photography, setting up the equipment arranging lights,
draping diffusion cloth over the skylight to soften sunlight, positioning the camera and
backdrops could take considerable time. Only once these technical elements were in place
would the sitter be admitted to take his place on the stool under the filtered beam of light.
In that sense, the immediate purpose of entering the room has been served: the narrator is
now correctly positioned in the beam of sunlight for his portrait session. However, though
he is physically in the studio under ideal lighting conditions, his deeper purpose to obtain
a faithful likeness of his own face remains unfulfilled, as the ensuing interactions reveal.
2. What was the narrator doing before going inside the room?
→ Before being admitted to the inner studio, the narrator spent a full hour waiting in the
photographer’s outer room, killing time by leafing through an assortment of old
periodicals. He mentions specifically reading the Ladies’ Companion for 1912, the Girls’
Magazine for 1902, and the Infants’ Journal for 1888. This litany of dated publications
emphasizes both the length of his wait and his growing self-consciousness as he tumbles
through fashions and articles from decades past, he becomes acutely aware of the
absurdity of barging into “this man’s scientific pursuits” simply to have his picture taken.
3. What is the central idea of the short story "With the Photographer"?
→ The central idea of “With the Photographer” is the tension between individual identity
and the impersonal demands of technological “perfection.” Through a comic yet pointed
narrative, Leacock shows how the photographer’s scientific detachment and obsession
with ideal proportions gradually erode the narrator’s sense of self. What begins as a
simple wish for a lasting likeness turns into an absurd ordeal of contortions, chemical
retouching, and relentless aesthetic “improvements” that strip away every personal
feature. In mocking the photographer’s faith in mechanical processes twisting ears,
erasing eyebrows, and reconfiguring facial angles Leacock highlights the absurdity of
believing that human uniqueness can be perfected or standardized. Ultimately, the story
affirms the value of authenticity, as the narrator’s dignified protest asserts that no amount
of technical wizardry can replace the simple truth of one’s own face.
4. Was the photographer happy with the final photograph of the narrator? Was the
narrator happy with the final print that was finally given to him?
, → The photographer is clearly pleased with the final portrait. After pulling the shutter, he
watches the machine “staggering from the shock,” then remarks with a “pleased smile”
that he “caught the features just in a moment of animation.” When the proof is developed,
he calmly explains each retouch reshaping the eyes, erasing the eyebrows with the
Delphide process, adjusting the mouth and hairline, and even considering the Sulphide
method to remove the ears. His tone remains confident and untroubled, as though each
alteration brings him closer to studio perfection. His pride in the technical mastery of his
craft shines through every adjustment and every explanation of the processes he has
applied.
By contrast, the narrator is deeply unhappy with the print. He had come seeking an honest
likeness “as Heaven gave it” to him, both to capture his identity and to leave a genuine
memento for his friends. Instead, he finds a manufactured image that no longer resembles
him but conforms to the photographer’s ideal. Confronted with the cavalier erasure and
reconstruction of his features, the narrator breaks into tears and departs in disgust,
lamenting that the polished portrait is nothing more than a “worthless bauble” that cannot
fulfil his longing for an authentic remembrance.
5. "I wanted something that would depict my face as Heaven gave it to me, humble
though the gift may have been." Do you agree with this opinion of the narrator?
Why or why not?
→ I do agree with the narrator’s longing for a photograph that simply reflects his natural
appearance. A portrait, in its most honest form, is a testament to the subject’s
individuality an irreplaceable snapshot of one’s unique features and expressions. By
asking for an image “as Heaven gave it to me,” the narrator asserts his right to be
remembered in his own likeness, blemishes and all, rather than as a doctored ideal. This
authenticity carries emotional weight: friends who cherish a true portrait will feel a
genuine connection to the person it represents, rather than to a perfected fantasy.
That said, it is also understandable why a photographer might wish to flatter his sitter
through subtle adjustments. Photography is as much an art as a science, and minor
corrections softening harsh shadows, smoothing skin tones, or subtly emphasizing
pleasant angles can help produce an image in which the subject feels confident and well-
presented. The problem in Leacock’s story arises when these “improvements” become so
extreme that they erase the sitter’s identity entirely. In moderation, retouching need not
betray authenticity; it becomes objectionable only when it replaces the sitter’s true self
with the photographer’s arbitrary ideal. Thus, while minor enhancements can serve the
subject, the narrator’s plea for an unvarnished likeness remains both reasonable and
poignant.
B. "I WANT my photograph taken," I said. The photographer looked at me without
enthusiasm. He was a drooping man in a gray suit, with the dim eye of a natural
scientist. But there is no need to describe him. Everybody knows what a
photographer is like."
1. Where has the narrator gone, and for what purpose?
→ The narrator has gone to a professional photographer’s studio with the express purpose of
having his portrait taken. From the opening line “I WANT my photograph taken,” I said it
is clear that he has sought out a place equipped with the apparatus of early twentieth-
century photography: a room arranged to admit filtered sunlight through a frosted skylight
and overhung with cotton sheeting to diffuse harsh glare. We can infer that the studio
A. "After an hour the photographer opened the inner door.
"Come in," he said severely.
I went into the studio.
"Sit down," said the photographer.
I sat down in a beam of sunlight filtered through a sheet of factory cotton hung against
a frosted skylight."
1. Who is "I" in the above extract? Why was the photographer calling him to come
inside? Has the purpose of going inside the room been served?
→ The “I” in this passage is the story’s narrator, the same gentleman who entered the
photographer’s establishment an hour earlier asking, “I WANT my photograph taken.”
He has been waiting in the outer reception area, leafing through old magazines, until the
photographer, having completed whatever preliminary preparations were needed, opened
the inner door and summoned him into the studio.
The photographer calls him inside because the studio is where the actual portrait will be
made. In early twentieth-century photography, setting up the equipment arranging lights,
draping diffusion cloth over the skylight to soften sunlight, positioning the camera and
backdrops could take considerable time. Only once these technical elements were in place
would the sitter be admitted to take his place on the stool under the filtered beam of light.
In that sense, the immediate purpose of entering the room has been served: the narrator is
now correctly positioned in the beam of sunlight for his portrait session. However, though
he is physically in the studio under ideal lighting conditions, his deeper purpose to obtain
a faithful likeness of his own face remains unfulfilled, as the ensuing interactions reveal.
2. What was the narrator doing before going inside the room?
→ Before being admitted to the inner studio, the narrator spent a full hour waiting in the
photographer’s outer room, killing time by leafing through an assortment of old
periodicals. He mentions specifically reading the Ladies’ Companion for 1912, the Girls’
Magazine for 1902, and the Infants’ Journal for 1888. This litany of dated publications
emphasizes both the length of his wait and his growing self-consciousness as he tumbles
through fashions and articles from decades past, he becomes acutely aware of the
absurdity of barging into “this man’s scientific pursuits” simply to have his picture taken.
3. What is the central idea of the short story "With the Photographer"?
→ The central idea of “With the Photographer” is the tension between individual identity
and the impersonal demands of technological “perfection.” Through a comic yet pointed
narrative, Leacock shows how the photographer’s scientific detachment and obsession
with ideal proportions gradually erode the narrator’s sense of self. What begins as a
simple wish for a lasting likeness turns into an absurd ordeal of contortions, chemical
retouching, and relentless aesthetic “improvements” that strip away every personal
feature. In mocking the photographer’s faith in mechanical processes twisting ears,
erasing eyebrows, and reconfiguring facial angles Leacock highlights the absurdity of
believing that human uniqueness can be perfected or standardized. Ultimately, the story
affirms the value of authenticity, as the narrator’s dignified protest asserts that no amount
of technical wizardry can replace the simple truth of one’s own face.
4. Was the photographer happy with the final photograph of the narrator? Was the
narrator happy with the final print that was finally given to him?
, → The photographer is clearly pleased with the final portrait. After pulling the shutter, he
watches the machine “staggering from the shock,” then remarks with a “pleased smile”
that he “caught the features just in a moment of animation.” When the proof is developed,
he calmly explains each retouch reshaping the eyes, erasing the eyebrows with the
Delphide process, adjusting the mouth and hairline, and even considering the Sulphide
method to remove the ears. His tone remains confident and untroubled, as though each
alteration brings him closer to studio perfection. His pride in the technical mastery of his
craft shines through every adjustment and every explanation of the processes he has
applied.
By contrast, the narrator is deeply unhappy with the print. He had come seeking an honest
likeness “as Heaven gave it” to him, both to capture his identity and to leave a genuine
memento for his friends. Instead, he finds a manufactured image that no longer resembles
him but conforms to the photographer’s ideal. Confronted with the cavalier erasure and
reconstruction of his features, the narrator breaks into tears and departs in disgust,
lamenting that the polished portrait is nothing more than a “worthless bauble” that cannot
fulfil his longing for an authentic remembrance.
5. "I wanted something that would depict my face as Heaven gave it to me, humble
though the gift may have been." Do you agree with this opinion of the narrator?
Why or why not?
→ I do agree with the narrator’s longing for a photograph that simply reflects his natural
appearance. A portrait, in its most honest form, is a testament to the subject’s
individuality an irreplaceable snapshot of one’s unique features and expressions. By
asking for an image “as Heaven gave it to me,” the narrator asserts his right to be
remembered in his own likeness, blemishes and all, rather than as a doctored ideal. This
authenticity carries emotional weight: friends who cherish a true portrait will feel a
genuine connection to the person it represents, rather than to a perfected fantasy.
That said, it is also understandable why a photographer might wish to flatter his sitter
through subtle adjustments. Photography is as much an art as a science, and minor
corrections softening harsh shadows, smoothing skin tones, or subtly emphasizing
pleasant angles can help produce an image in which the subject feels confident and well-
presented. The problem in Leacock’s story arises when these “improvements” become so
extreme that they erase the sitter’s identity entirely. In moderation, retouching need not
betray authenticity; it becomes objectionable only when it replaces the sitter’s true self
with the photographer’s arbitrary ideal. Thus, while minor enhancements can serve the
subject, the narrator’s plea for an unvarnished likeness remains both reasonable and
poignant.
B. "I WANT my photograph taken," I said. The photographer looked at me without
enthusiasm. He was a drooping man in a gray suit, with the dim eye of a natural
scientist. But there is no need to describe him. Everybody knows what a
photographer is like."
1. Where has the narrator gone, and for what purpose?
→ The narrator has gone to a professional photographer’s studio with the express purpose of
having his portrait taken. From the opening line “I WANT my photograph taken,” I said it
is clear that he has sought out a place equipped with the apparatus of early twentieth-
century photography: a room arranged to admit filtered sunlight through a frosted skylight
and overhung with cotton sheeting to diffuse harsh glare. We can infer that the studio
