Life Before Said

There we go.  Last night's full moon, me sleeping in the cabin, waking to feel the shift of the tide and hear the clanking of the shrouds against the mast.  Spent many "a night" like that alone on my small sailboat in some sheltered anchorage.  

So many things.

I have been watching YouTube vids by this guy (link).  The first I watched was on a disappearing tribe in Borneo (link).  I watched it with my mother.  I told her I had been in a place that looked like this in the Amazon Basin, down the Madre de Dios tributary of the Amazon River.  I've told the story here before a decade or two ago, with pictures.  I have one of the long blowguns and darts the locals used to hunt with.  Watching the doc, I was taken back.  Last night, I watched one on Gypsy tribes in India (link).  What beautiful people!  I lamented that I had never gone and now probably never will.  I will take photos of "the culture" here in my own hometown.  Bland, ubiquitous.  

But. . . I met up with T. yesterday.  We had lunch with the fellow who owns the studio.  He owns more than one and is soon to open another in Nashville.  He's a young guy who has done some modeling, and I was timid, afraid that I was over my head.  He was a swell guy, easy, and we swapped tales over lunch before going to the studio.  It was a good studio with big windows and natural light.  He had a blank wall where we would shoot T.  I've looked at the catalogs, and they are shot like that, minimal props, a blank wall.  He had catalogs from the clothing company he represented lying around.  Same thing.  I asked him a few things before I told him our photography was not of the same ilk.  I asked some technical questions, and then I realized I was way ahead in technical knowledge.  Still, the shoot made me nervous.  I knew what it was like to shoot with amateur models.  They tighten up when the camera points at them.  The technical part of this shoot was easy.  We talked.  T told him I had a thousand cameras.  The studio fellow asked me questions, then he was enamored.  He wanted me to bring in some of the large format stuff.  He wanted to know if we could shoot with the Black Cat Liberator.  Now we were in my world.  This stuff was not of any use for catalog work.  He wanted to know about the creative stuff.  I said he should come to the house and look.  He wants to see the prints that T told him about.  He showed him some of the old Pola work on his phone.  The studio guy wanted a print.  He began talking about making a video, but when I realized he was talking about me, I was negative.  No, I don't want to be on that side of the camera.  

So. . . I may be good at what I do, but I'm still scared of shooting the commercial stuff.  

I'd rather be taking photos of Gypsies.  I didn't know any of them still used the term.  "Roma," I was told by an Eastern European woman who was a "gypsy."  She was an advocate.  You may remember her from photos.  Her dark hair and eyes were haunting.  

My mother's day out cost her.  She picked up something and felt horrible in the morning.  "That's what happens when you go out this time of year," I said.  I've had all the vaccines and still got sick.  But the world is joyous and beautiful here right now, so what are you going to do?  Last night was the Bach Choir singing songs of peace and joy among the rows of lighted Tiffany windows from the museum.  I, of course, could not go.  2025 was a year of taking care of mother.  I missed it.  

Selavy.  

My mother has a birthday in eight days.  I need to figure out what to do.  She will be 94.  I told her I'd throw her another big party when she turns 95.  This year will be low key.  What do you buy for a 94 year old?  Ha!  Why am I asking you?  In all likelihood, you've never had to consider that.  Whatever I decide, I'd better do it soon.  If I am ordering something, I need to do it today.  

Oy.  

Just more anxiety.  That's what I need.  

But I read about new Christmas movies on t.v. in the Times.  A couple sounded like something I need, some Christmas thing I can watch. . . with mother.  

When I'd rather be lying on my big leather couch watching "Love Actually" with MOTL.  

I'll definitely not be watching the Bill Murray thing this year.  I'm keeping it as light as I can.  

I won't try posting a bunch of hipster Christmas songs, either.  But I do wish Playboy was still around.  I always loved the November and December issues.  Maybe I'll look for old copies in the vintage store today.  That might make me smile.  

You can watch a colorized version here (link).