Have I used this photograph before? I don't know. I have run out of photographs here on my laptop at my mother's. I'm sure I have some in the vast archives stored on the many hard drives at home. At home right now I have six 4x5 negatives drying in the sink, two color and four b&w. I will scan them today, but they are simple Covid pictures of houses and trees, etc.
Yesterday, during the long, slow transition from daylight to sunset, my mother and I sat outside in the muggy heat and humidity swatting mosquitoes and drinking our medicinal gin and tonics against whatever larval infections those bloodsuckers are certain to transfer. I was telling her how I had occupied the few hours I had spent away from her, describing the difficulties of using the big Liberator camera and saying how imbecilic it was, really, when she asked me what I was taking photographs of. I was stunned.
"I don't know. Nothing. A pond with a boy fishing. Some signs. A building."
My mother looked at me with a sort of hillbilly amusement like I was one of the simple relatives who isn't quite all there.
"Well, it is hard, like I say, but I think I have gotten the whole process down now. I can get a picture every time. Before, not so much. It has just been practice, really."
Blah, blah, blah. It is like the times your parents would ask you to perform a song for guests who really didn't want to hear you sing or play guitar or harmonica or whatever it was you were supposed to do.
"Now I need a project," I said foundering.
"Like what?"
"I'm not sure. I thought about taking my camera to some small town farmers markets and putting up a sign that says 'Free Photographs,' you know?"
It was obvious she didn't. So I did what you do. I fell back on arcane knowledge to show I knew what I was saying.
"I have a book of portraits in your living room you may have looked at by Disfarmer. No? Oh, man, he had a photo studio in Arkansas or Nebraska in the '30s and '40's. . . ."
Whatever. The sinking feeling, the bottomless pit of ridiculous stupidity when you think more words delivered in an officious tone will save you. . . . Somebody--throw me a lifeline!
I got the camera out of the car and showed her how it worked. She looked at me like I was trying to sell her a Kirby vacuum cleaner.
Oh, were I to make those pictures, she would see then. I'm sure she would be fascinated.
Later, as dinner was cooking, I put on YouTube and watched an interview about the new William Eggleston book that Steidl is publishing, three volumes for $450. My mother looked at those Egglestons like they were five headed chickens.
I guess I'm living in a very small part of the world.
But one among you will say, "What a GREAT idea! You should do it!" Maybe two. And I should. I really should.
Maybe.
If someone will just make me the sign.
OK, I'll say it: Go for it! You know you'll have to or forever hate yourself for giving up, right? And at "this age" what's to lose except eventually our minds?
ReplyDeleteIt does feel great to finally do what you want. I'm painting big abstracts on 45x45 packing crate covers and displaying them in the yard where all the traffic passing by can see them. The aim is to make pieces that disturb the eye like op art. Oh, if I could only beam myself back to the 60's...
ReplyDelete"No, it is definitely something other than liquor. I am dying inside, perhaps, with isolation and the lack of both internal and external stimulation. When the papers (even the New York Times) writes about "a flu epidemic," I have, perhaps, a different vision than the medical field. "Epidemic" invokes movies scenes in dark, dismal light in browns and sepias of people dropping on the streets and in homes, of untold sufferings on a massive scale. Apocalyptic. Maybe that is a word I confuse with "epidemic." Yes. . . I am certain of it."
That's from your blog - circa December 2013.
Sometimes, for grins, I go back.
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There's a sign maker in the Trinket Shop. She does lovely work.
https://www.modernvintagedesignstudio.com/shopsigns
You can commission her to do any sign work.
But what happens, then, if you get a sign?
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Anita - you go Girl. :)
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I'm nearly alone in the office.
Bad, Lisa.
Anita, you know it is easier to confront objects than to confront people. I can photograph objects without danger. People. . . well that's another matter. Still, it is courage that makes interesting photographs, not perfect technique. As much as people like Ansel Adams. . . really? I mean, there is a beauty to them, but he sure liked repetition. No, I like Adams' photos. I guess he thought people were boring. But for me, it is the confrontation of people and the "soul stealer" that interests me.
ReplyDeleteLIsa. . . get me my sign. It should be along these lines.
https://i.ebayimg.com/images/g/MOUAAOSwHOlcfQio/s-l300.jpg
Lisa, I go back sometimes, too. Strange, isn't it, how thematic it can all be. I think everyone should re-read the blog. It is really good, sometimes. . . and all for free!
ReplyDelete