In the past 3 days, I’ve had over 100 mugshots taken of me. Frontal pix, profile shots, photos from every conceivable angle. It seems like this should be more than enough, but I can’t dare to hope that I’m even close to being done.

The worst part is that I’m not even allowed to leave my cell to have my booking portrait taken. I wouldn’t mind so much, being documented like a lab rat, if I was allowed to leave this pit. But no, I’m stuck in solitary confinement, with over 25 years left on my sentence, and now I have to endure constant observation by the harshest of my critics.

Me.

Sometimes I wonder whether real prisoners have it better off. I’ve never been in the clink, but 2nd & 3rd hand accounts impress me with tales of days spent exercising, reading in the library, studying for degrees or licenses via correspondence, watching movies… free room & board. I’m sure that living the life outside has it’s perks too… My place of employment, for example, no doubt has considerably fewer incidents of anal rape. And in addition to this silver lining, I technically have my freedom, with which, assuming I had free time and money, I could go anywhere I want, whenever I want to. But seeing as I’m usually short on both time and money, I generally spend either at work or at home. …Sort of a virtual house arrest.

My coop is a ten foot square area surrounded by walls and file cabinets, where I sit for 8 hours each day at a desk engulfed in equipment. Underneath my desk, there are boxes full of spare parts …speakers for PCs, rollers for printers, lamps for the scanner… My desk drawers are full of extra keyboards and mouses (mice?), and various cables and adapters. Atop my desk sits my computer, complete with dual monitors, a secondary computer which simulates what patrol officers have in their cars, a bar code label printer, a bar code scanner, and now, a webcam.

The idea is to use the webcam for a mugshot annex, for suspects who won’t actually be booked at the jail (where these photos are normally taken). I’d like to state up front that using the webcam in this way is not my idea. I’m not sure the detectives who’ve been managing this project knew what they were buying. …but nonetheless, it’s my job to make it work. So I’ve been toying with it for a few days, getting it interfaced with our database and trying to get the appropriate size and resolution to come up through a third-party software.

I’m doing this by taking a lot of pictures of myself. I’d rather not, but I’m the only test subject available. So I’ve been spending a lot of time looking at myself. Hell, even when I’m not snapping shots, there’s a little window on my monitor that shows me the video feed… I find it more than a little disconcerting.

Until a couple years ago, I’d never really given my appearance much thought, but once aging really started to kick in, I’ve become obsessed. It’s really pissing me off… not only that I care so much about my dilapidating appearance, but also to have to admit that I’m really vain. I’d like to think that I’m above such concerns.

But nonetheless, there I was on my computer… tipping my head down into the camera to see how far back my hairline has receded and analyzing my large nose in profile. To add to these ongoing problems, this project was unfortunately timed promptly after Easter, thus following my consumption of several pounds of candy. This of course, left me with a complexion which is currently none too smooth.

Gradually my standard mugshots took on an eccentric theme. Alongside a series of my profile there are now also shots of the top of my head to see if my hair is thinning, a few shots from below to check out a blotchy shaving burn on Wednesday morning, and then a few shots to see if I really was getting a double chin or if it was just the angle I was holding my head during the razor-rash pics.

As I held the camera behind me and zoomed in on a potential bald spot on the back of my head, the lieutenant came in to see how the testing was going. Still holding the camera, I stretched my arms wide and pretended I was yawning, but I’m not sure I fooled him.

After he left I continued my “work”. I’d found an “extras” pack that came with the webcam which included dozens of animated backgrounds into which I could insert my picture. Tasked with thoroughly analyzing this equipment, I produced mugshots of my hairline in the tropics, my pimple in the jungle, and my freakishly large nose in outer space.

And then, while tweaking the settings, I removed all color from my face and presented my likeness in black & white. The result was astonishingly appropriate. Instantly, all of my angst and all of my self-consciousness evaporated. It’s not that I suddenly felt dashingly handsome …in fact, I rather look like Stan Laurel with a much larger nose… but these shades of gray were just so fitting for me. I don’t belong in Technicolor.

Stan Laurel

Reading my blog, you probably wouldn’t guess that I have huge affection for the silver screen. I love silent movies… Charlie Chaplin, Paulette Goddard (is it wrong to have a crush on a woman who would be almost 100 years old if she was alive today?), Harold Lloyd, and of course, Buster Keaton (surprise, surprise)…

Paulette Goddard

One of my favorite places in Salem is the Historic Elsinore Theater, the local pusher for my monochromatic cinema fix. I love climbing the steps to the balcony, waiting for the lights to dim, and for the movie to start. As if the love of these movies and the wonderful ambiance of the theater isn’t pull enough, the theater cruelly rouses my addiction on the back of their building with a giant mural that I walk by every day on my walk to work. The mural features Theda Bara, Charlie Chaplin, WC Fields, and a tiny Marlene Dietrich.

Salem, Oregon’s tribute to fabulous blogger Moonbeam McQueen

I have to shamefully confess that, in spite of the Elsinore’s fine tribute, I’ve never seen a Theda Bara movie. As I understand it, there isn’t much of her work left in the world. I consider this a terrible shame, as I’m sure I would love each one of her movies. Indeed, I don’t believe I’ve ever watched a silent film that I didn’t like.

Except, unfortunately, that one today, starring myself. Even though my spirit was finally realized in black & white, the environment around me was all wrong. I ought to have worn one of my hats, or perhaps incorporated some acrobatic slapstick… but unfortunately, when working with expensive electronics, somersaults are generally frowned upon.

Perhaps my vocational detention centre isn’t the right backdrop for my personal flicker show. But then, why shouldn’t it be? My heros of old seemed to share a common denominator of never fitting in with their environments, so perhaps I’m in the perfect setting.

It could be the antithesis of that Tobey Maguire/Reese Witherspon movie Pleasantville, wherein they visit a black & white world and turn it into color. Surely our world is in just as dire a need for a new perspective. Maybe it’s time I don my hat, grab my cane, and bathe the world around me in shades of silver.