The Photographer (Ignazio Boschetto Fanfiction)

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

          The Guadalajara concert was the next evening, and it was the first of many that I would experience. I slunk around the stage and backstage, trying to get good pictures while still staying out of the way, and I managed greatly. The next morning, we left Guadalajara and moved onto Puebla and then to Mexico City to have more concerts and meet-and-greets, and then we left Mexico altogether and went to Venezuela. We moved quickly, never staying more than a few days in one location, and the rush was both exciting and tiring.

I fervently applied myself to Il Volo, always rushing around to get good angles and try new ideas for the photos. I immersed myself entirely in the world of Il Volo, surpassing what was expected of me. There was not another time when I resigned from my duties, and I always anticipated and received great reviews on my photos from the boys, Barbara, Michele, and the fans-the Il Volovers.

 The boys always cooperated with me whenever I asked anything of them, and the four of us kept up a friendly dialogue, though I always refused to accompany them on their personal, non-business related outings. I shied away from them outside of our travels together, keeping myself in place as their mere but attentive photographer.

Though I fully immersed myself in my new responsibilities, the portraiture quickly became mundane for me. I was not excited and energetic as Valerie had predicted, but instead was restless and anxious. Every morning, I had to make myself go out with the boys, and I separated myself from my longings to force myself to embrace the work assigned to me. As I worked, I refused to entertain daydreams and pinings to be elsewhere, and I chastised myself for acknowledging weariness. Though I pretended I was interested in the work to try to convince myself it was the truth, a constant boredom nagged at me and tried to slow down my progress. I constantly had to remind myself that I was the one and only photographer of Il Volo, and then untangle myself from any differentiating dreams while I was working.

Though I was disappointed with the mundane nature of the job, I was exhilarated with the rush of traveling. I was determined to get pictures of every place we visited as training for my future career, and I went out early in the mornings and, if I could, during sunset to get the pictures I needed. These were the times when I felt free and ambitious, and I could run over the earth pounding it with my red high-tops as my camera bounced against me. I searched for the best photo locations, exhilarated by the pleasure of capturing the environment on my screen. I released myself from the bondage of being a portrait photographer for a short while each day as I allowed myself a brief glimpse into the beautiful future.

I lived for these moments and dreaded the end of my free time, when I had to accept back my job and identity as Il Volo’s photographer.

Il Volo traveled faster and faster, flitting from one location to the next and putting on concerts so rapidly that it made me question how the boys could do it. Every concert was perfect, their voices stunning and their attitudes excited and confident.

As the schedule tightened, the time that I could slip away and get my landscapes grew narrow and strained. The whole Il Volo team worked late into the evenings, especially at meet-and-greets after concerts that could last past midnight. Then by the time we were back in whatever hotel we were staying at and in bed, it was early in the morning and we were exhausted. The boys always slept late into the morning, before whatever event, interview or practice they had during the day, but I got up to review my pictures.

          We moved so quickly and worked so diligently that keeping up with everything I was doing grew more difficult, and it came to be that I had to choose between going out and getting my landscapes or sleep.