The Kiss

My parents were married 94 years ago today. If I recall correctly from Mom’s account,

it was a small, quiet celebration of their devotion to each other. They went on to raise eight children, and lived long enough to see their 68th anniversary.  

This photograph was taken and hand colored to honor their Silver Anniversary in 1956. It had a special place on my parents’ dresser. I was three years old at the time, and from the moment they showed it to us kids, that photo - the elegant frame too for that matter - fascinated me. Through the years I'd wander into the room just to stare at it. It represented my whole world.

Many years later, a couple of years after Dad died and Mom was aging gracefully, I was chatting with her while she dressed for the day. The photo was on her bedside table, and I noticed a smudge. “Mom, the glass on your photo is dirty” I said, and approached to wipe it off. I stopped in my tracks when I saw that the smudge was an impression of her lips. Speechless, I held it up to her, pointing to the spot. She glanced at it for a second then continued dressing. ”Well, I still need to kiss him goodnight” she said.

I don’t know who eventually wiped that glass clean but it made me sad.

Taking pictures these days is easy and cheap, and we often lose appreciation of the value that an image can hold. Food photos and selfies are ubiquitous. When do we notice that a photograph is exceptional, or even sacred?

If you were allowed only one photo in your home, which would it be?

Walk With Me in My Yard

Photographer Tomasz Trzebiatowski posted a delightful video showing a “quiet moment” in the woods. He walked for ten minutes, took twenty photos, then assembled his experience on YouTube. 

Lately I've been spending most days on the computer. I accomplish necessary tasks but certainly not the physical movement, observation skills, deep-breathing, and head-clearing that Tomasz' walking meditation offers. It felt gratifying for me as a photographer to see what moves him to capture an image. What I noticed while watching his video is that his peace became my peace. Immediately afterward, I set my alarm for 10 minutes - not sure why I wimped out with time - and stepped outside into my yard.

I looked around at what surrounds me every day but that I don’t necessarily observe. Halfway into the exercise my cheeks were beginning to ache. I’d been smiling the whole time! For a moment I stood still, eyes closed, feeling immeasurable gratitude - for my

health, my home, my passion for photography and, for that matter, Tomasz and other artists who generously share their vision. If you wish, you can check into his worthwhile photography community at Frames Magazine.

Back at my computer, I downloaded ten photos, then processed them in black and white

as Tomasz did. Black and white has always been my preference in most cases. By emphasizing form and texture, those images often have more visual and emotional impact. This wasn't about seeing my yard as much as embracing detail and form.

These ten photos are simple and honest. I hope you enjoy them. Might you try this exercise? If you do I'd love to hear about it.

No Barns, No Mannequins

In photography school, we had a professor who forbade us to photograph barns or mannequins for class assignments. In Michigan, where I lived at the time, barns were ubiquitous. Each one of us believed we could produce the best barn photo ever. Personally, I was drawn to those that were falling apart. The more

dilapidated the better. But I could see that, depending on the light, red barns could

be as delicious as apples. He was sick of it. No barns, red or otherwise.

Mannequins? “They’re too easy” he insisted. Mannequins do what they’re made

to do which is, of course, model outfits we surely want to buy. If we're lucky,

a few will congregate in a corner. Stripped bare, they reveal cracks, seams, and blemishes. Like all of us, imperfect. What’s not to love?  

Years ago I exhibited a photo collection of vintage dolls using the same trope of

imperfection and secrecy. A few years later I wrote a short story about them which eventually became the basis of my second film Apotheosis. You can view this

10 minute film at apotheosisshortfilm.com

And now I'm going to head to an online thrift store to purchase George Bennett's

1977 book Mannequins. I've had my eye on it for awhile.

Lesson of the day: photograph whatever you want. Who knows, maybe it will be the

best photo ever.