WHEN I began writing a column in 1963 I hardly had any pictures to illustrate the events I covered.
If ever there was one it come from a photoengraving.
A cliché, they called it, and it was rather expensive. Five pesos, which was more than the minimum daily wage. The picture was etched on a metal plaque which was mounted on a thick wooden slat. Plywood was also used in tiers.
One had to use a glossy black- and-white photo. Oftentimes it appeared quite blurred in the paper. Colored photos very seldom reproduced well, or not at all, in a cliché.
So, our columns had to be very descriptive, perhaps sometimes a bit exageratedly so, but that was poetic license. One day I included a photoengraving of a
party Angelita Lhuillier gave.
The ladies came out quite clearly in their elegant clothes. The readership reacted, “Ah, these are the beautiful people of Cebu.” At that time members of the jet set were called the world’s beautiful people.
Eventually there came offset printing to the local papers, still in black-and-white, as color would still take a little while. We still needed glossy pictures, preferably, but technology improved and sometimes even matte photos reproduced well.
Photographers attending a function took pictures which they quickly developed and made available before the affair ended. They were displayed and people bought them. At times the photographers gave me the photos for free as long as they were given due credit. No problem, we gladly did. Joe Lawas was always a great help.
In time colored pictures were featured due to advanced technology. Now, the readers had a much better perspective of the events we wrote about. Enter the photoplay to illustrate the adage that a pictures is worth 1,000 words. But still, felicitous text can come very handy.
I had the simplest of cameras and I took my own photos. I bought film, at first with 12 exposures, and then with 24, as I used them for family snapshots. I did pretty well, bringing the film to be developed at the nearest shop of Kodak.
Kodak cameras were in demand, and so were Canons. But the best by far were the Minoltas. The Japanese firm that made them had long been famous for the high quality of lens for any purpose, like eyeglasses.
Then came the digital cameras, which meant the demise sooner or later of the ordinary cameras. You could take 100 or more pictures, and keep them there, in your camera. Maybe those photos never saw print. I ended up with two digital cameras, and everyone at home wanted to use them.
Thus, when I had to use one of them I had to make sure they had been properly recharged. With my old idiot camera, I just carried extra batteries to change as needed. In short, it was a hassle to use the digital camera, and if I decided to have a new one, that would also become the object of desire.
Publicists and public relations officers have been quite helpful in sending me photos, hard copy, as requested, and I am grateful. I am also sent photos to my email but not always do they reproduce as well as they should.
Take the coverage about the Silkair travel fair last week. The photos were hard copy and they came out great! I will not tell you which came through other processes.
What really gets me is receiving a disc which I must review, and for which activity I am not well disposed. I get a CD and my first reaction is to throw it to the waste basket.
Photos have not been forthcoming of late, and I suspect that publicists and PR people are having a hard time going through the spate of too many photos taken of an event. I can list down the many from whom we have been told to expect photos, but they are not coming.
When they do we’ll print them out, stale though they may be. Meanwhile, dearest readers, you’ll be having words, more words, and even more words from me.
I actually enjoy writing this more than ransacking through a CD. Just remember, hard copy.
I may be excused, as at 73, a thoroughbred is entitled to some kinks. Pardonable methinks.
The rhyme is not intentional.
