A THOUSAND WORDS - Alex Waterhouse-Hayward's blog on pictures, plants, politics and whatever else is on his mind.




 

El Sexo Débil
Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Anastasia


It was not too long ago that they stopped calling women “el sexo débil” in Mexico. There was a saying that I would think would infuriate all feminists that was like this, “A lady is a woman who makes a man feel like a gentleman.”

In this 21st century no man with any kind of sensitivity would call a woman a lady. That epithet of questionable meaning can only be used by other women in the same way that Native Canadians can use the I word and black people the N word.

It was only today that I watched the thrilling Nicholas Meyer 1979 film Time After Time with Mary Steenburgen, David Warner and Malcolm McDowell. McDowell, who plays a time traveling H.G. Wells invites her (from 1978) to travel back with him and live in his own time. Steenburgen firmly tells him that her work is most important and she would not want to lose all that back in the 19th century. Wells could not understand the concept that a woman would find her work that important.

But some of our views (or at the very least my own) that are based on that passing 20th century still affect how I perceive women and all things women. When Rosemary and I, in bed look at big male Casi-Casi and at delicate and much smaller female Plata we talk to them as if they are a man and a woman and we impose our perceptions even when we baby-talk to them. I see my Plata as elegant, feminine and graceful.


There is a paradox for me that that hackneyed “A man is a gentleman when…” definition of a higher-up idea of a woman on a pedestal came to mind for me memorably when I photographed gay writer Jane Rule. Imagine if an current editor of any Canadian magazine would say what the Books in Canada Editor told me when he phoned me with the assignment. “How would you like to photograph a 6ft lesbian?”

You must imagine what went through my mind minutes before Jane Rule painfully (she had severe arthritis) came up the three flights of stairs to my studio.

Rule charmed me and I took her most favourite portraits. After we finished she said, “Alex, could you help me down the stairs a flag me a taxi?” I felt like Lord Wellington.

I have never ever had any ambivalent ideas of my true sexuality and I can assert here that by kindergarten in Buenos Aires I was fascinated and attracted to women. I have fond memories of hiking up the skirts of the three female (there were two additional boys) Diligenti quintuplets.
My whole world collapsed twice before I understood the truth. Perhaps in the first or second grade I saw a woman with a big stomach (I did not know about storks yet) get on a Buenos Aires colectivo with a little creature in a dress but with a shaved head. What was this, a boy or a girl? The second event that troubled me was going to see films when I was 8 with my mother. Some of them had Katherine Hepburn wearing pants. Was she really a woman I wondered?

In my photography of women, even in my more erotic ones I always try to give the woman control and I never photograph a woman in any way suggesting that she is submissive to anything. I try to respect the humanity and dignity of the woman.


It was my religion teacher Brother Edwin Reggio, C.S.C. who told us that every human being born was born with the grace of God and had something that he called “inherent dignity.” He told us that in spite of everything they had committed both Hitler and Judas had to be respected as human beings. They, too, had that inherent human dignity. We tried to argue against his case but he never let up on this.

Which brings me to the subject of the M sisters, Carol and Anastasia. They are both beautiful. The former has a bubbly but incisive personality with the low voice of a female alto. The latter is just plain enigmatic and glides (does not walk) on miniature ball bearing joints. The former considered me (and perhaps still does) as a crass chauvinist pig. She did not like my overtures in wanting to photograph her lovely cleavage (the best cleavage, for me, happens when breasts are not generous. The latter never said much and accepted my request to photograph her in the best room of the seedy Marble Arch Hotel. She knew what I liked so she made sure her stockings were torn.


Looking back at these pictures of Anastasia (this was not her original name and decided to change it and impose on her new name a personality that made anybody who met her wonder who she was.

These photographs I took with a sadly discontinued a long time ago film called Kodak Technical Pan. This film was agonizingly slow (25 ISO). It was extremely sharp (in fact the sharpest b+w film ever made). I used two cameras. A large medium format Mamiya RB-67 was the principal one but I squeezed two with my German Gevabox box camera that shot instead of the 6x7 cm negs of the Mamiya, negs in a 6x9 format.


Many of the pictures exhibit some of my early ways of conveying Eros without taking into account that some of the poses were far too model poses. Part of the problem was that Anastasia kept giving me those poses. Nonetheless I think that there are some striking photographs in our collaboration.

The interesting problem for me with a woman like Anastasia is that you never know if you must think when addressing her of the femininity of my female cat, the masculinity of Rosemary’s cat. There is
that enigmatic and nebulous and most wonderful lack of definition. She is in a category all her own.






The New VAG - Stacked Hat Boxes In A World Of Square Heads
Tuesday, September 29, 2015





Today, like many other Vancouverites, I got a preview of what may someday be our new Vancouver Art Gallery.

As a friend of a most pragmatic and knowledgeable architect, Abraham Rogatnick, who died six years ago I would still agree with his manifesto that the VAG should stay put.

What has changed since his death is a city that is full of more money that I do not see going into places that need it. We get more bike lanes while improvements in our transit system are still in some far off future. The tracks on the Arbutus Corridor, in spite of Canadian Pacific’s cleanup are still rusting.

I see that nothing seems to have changed since my friend architect Ned Pratt while watching the demolitions on my Athlone Street neighbourhood told me, “I am convinced that the developers and City Hall are in cahoots.”

Nobody seems to have taken our former Premier, Mike Harcourt seriously when he memorably said a few years ago at a downtown Simon Fraser University lecture, “Homelessness can be solved if we build more houses.”

I despair that Arthur Erickson is not around to lecture us on this ongoing folly.

But I must confess that there are two men I have second thoughts about. These men are realtor Bob Rennie and the other is our Prime Minister Mr. Harper. The latter I do not like nor do I agree with his policies. The former I see as a tainted developer (with no personal information to back that up). I do not know enough to like or dislike him.

But when today he went on the record in saying that before this project moves forward (how I hate that expression so frequently used by our politicians) he wants to know how the great cost will affect the purchase of art, the promotion of art, the nurturing of our artists. He is bang on!


Bob Rennie & his children

 Furthermore if Vancouver gets its “World Class Art Gallery” will Regina, Winnipeg and other cities in Canada also merit such a folly?

In Abraham Rogatnick’s Manifesto central to it is the idea that the present Vancouver Art Gallery is the very centre (bellybutton?) of our city. Before this gallery moves what plans are being made to keep that centre where it is?

Arthur Erickson at the UBC Library
One of the possible solutions would be to make the folks of our University of British Columbia who find it convenient to be outside of Vancouver in an area of lovely forests that now boasts a Save-On and cookie-cutter truncated condo towers move out of Robson Square. UBC in one protracted swoop  has killed Robson Square. Perhaps Simon Fraser with its vibrant downtown campus could make better use of it. And they might even find a solution to keeping our city’s centre where it is.



Al Espejo Retrovisor de un Coche
Monday, September 28, 2015





Al Espejo Retrovisor de un Coche (To a car's rear view mirror)
José García Nieto (1914-2001)



Tú eres el corazón con lo vivido;
en ti está todo lo que atrás vamos dejando,
lo que hemos ido con pasión amando,
definitivamente ya perdido.

En ti vemos las gracias que se han ido,
los paisajes y el cielo de ayer, cuando
las cosas que ahora sigues recordando
flotan sobre las aguas del olvido.

Pero vives y estás: claro y pequeño,
miras aquellos prados, aquel sueño
tan lejano, las rosas de aquel día.

Crees que puedes cambiar toda la suerte
y, aunque vamos derechos a la muerte,
vives de lo pasado todavía.



¡Messi! ¡Messi! - ¡Francisco! ¡Francisco!
Sunday, September 27, 2015


Father Jorge Mario Bergoglio - Pablo Leguizamón, AP Images

From Tuesday September 22 to today Sunday September 27 I have been glued, when possible to my Sony Trinitron.  It is strange that amongst the turmoils of having bought a house and finally sold the one we have lived in for almost 30 years, my Rosemary, with a smile on her face has been my constant companion on the sofa in our den. She is not a Roman Catholic nor is she an Argentine. But there she was protesting how loud the simultaneous translators were and how we could not listen in all clarity to what the pope was saying in his Argentine Spanish.

Perhaps to inject some humour I told her that we had made a mistake in not having added either Telemundo or Univisión  on our Telus package. But Rosemary took it seriously and perhaps even felt guilty about her lapse.

In my case my guilt was much more palpable even if I had to mostly keep it to myself.
I believe that if there is something that must be kept private in this confess-all age of social media it has to be what I do in bed our out of bed with my wife that has nothing to do with an act solely for the purpose of procreation. At my wife’s age of 70 and mine at 73 with my faulty plumbing there is no question of that ever being a reality. But there is another aspect of my life that I have always left in shadow to any that might ask. This is my personal view on religious belief.

I was baptized, confirmed and took part in the Roman Catholic sacraments of the Eucharist and Confession. I was born Roman Catholic because my mother was Roman Catholic. My father may have been a lapsed Anglican who waved his right to insist I be raised under the Church of England. A few things happened during my growing up that made me question what had been drilled to me in Sunday School.

While my softly (if that can be said just like that) religiously racist Spanish Grandmother who often told me that the Jews had killed Jesus Christ seemed to be a “fact” there was the nagging suspicion that my best friend Mario Hertzberg who lived across the street from me could not be a murderer. That Mario showed me a picture of young man, that looked just like him, and explained that he had been killed by Germans during the war made it all more confusing in my mind. When Mario and I were stopped on the street by a Capuchin monk who asked us of our faith and when Mario explained that he was Jewish, the monk with a smile on his face said, “We all believe in the same God.”

By the time I was 10 my mother and grandmother would offer money to the patron saint of lost things St. Anthony of Padua. Their offerings were conditional – no found earing – no money. I thought this odd but strangely funny.

By that age of 10 I had inquired and found out that the minimum requirements for attending Holy Mass was to show up at the Offertory. As soon as the priest uttered “Ite missa est,” I would bolt out of church.

My so-so beliefs became challenged when my mother sent me to a Catholic boarding school, St. Edward’s High School in Austin, Texas in the mid-50s. there I experienced almost daily Masses, frequent confessions, plus being surrounded by men dressed in black who were Brothers of Holy Cross.

But here I had to question my faith, whatever it had been. It had been, at the very least a religion I had learned by rote. Suddenly not only did I find myself under the influence of great teachers (all but one or two, Brothers of Holy Cross) but I was hit hard intellectually by that five foot strong-man Brother Edwin Reggio, CSC. He taught me religion. He taught me religion that was laced with the philosophy of Aristotle, St. Augustine and St. Thomas Aquinas.

He allowed himself to be baited in our waste-time procedures of asking him at what point, in dollars and cents, a sin of theft went from being venial to a mortal sin. From Brother Edwin I learned logic and dialogue all with a big dollop of kindness.

Brother Hubert Koeppen, Brother Francis Barrett, who taught me world history and American history gave me facts and liberal opinions on a way that I could judge history in a non-absolute way.When my buddy John Straney (in the 11th and 12th grade) loudly proclaimed his atheism, the brothers played it cool and ignored him. He graduated with no ancillary problems.

Best of all Brother Edwin insisted that perhaps the most important Sacrament was the Sacrament of Confirmation. He told me that once confirmed I was a soldier of Christ. He was careful to explain that this was not a soldier who wielded a sword but one who defended the faith in being able to explain one’s beliefs in detail and to divulge to anybody who might ask what Transubstantiation , Ex Cathedra and the concept of the Trinity of three persons who were all individually God.

Shortly after moving back to Mexico City after Austin I had the luck to be exposed to the philosophy classes of Ramón Xirau at Mexico City College. From him I found out about the pre-Socratics, the Socratics and all the rest that followed up (with a longish explanation on Baruch Spinoza) to an including Sartre and Camus. But it was Epicurus’s belief that we should not fear death as death was oblivion without pain that set me up for doubt. It was and has been a doubt that would never include Pascal’s (chickenshit, oh my!) Wager.

My doubt was not toned down when my very Catholic mother, at age 50, suffering the terrible Meniere’s Disease, experiencing an almost constant vertigo and a loud ringing in her ears,  confessed to me one day, “I am 50 and I am alone. I have not been with a man for years. I am still young. I do not believe in a God who cares for the affairs of men. I have lost my faith in prayer.” There was nothing that I could have possibly told her that would have ameliorated her grief. It wasn’t the existence of God that she doubted, after all.

And that is where my beliefs have been all these years.

Rosemary and I both regret that while our oldest daughter Ale had her First Communion, her younger sister Hilary did not. Hilary’s two daughters’ idea of spirituality is all Tolkien, special effects and Star Wars.

My Brother Edwin died a couple of years ago so I feel lost in not having his practical mind explain to me if watching the pope saying Holy Mass in Washington DC, New York City and in Philadelphia is in effect going to Mass. When the pope blesses the populace, am I included?

I may be proud of being an Argentine these days in spite of Cristina. I like to shout or write, “¡Messi! ¡Messi! ¡Francisco! ¡Francisco!” But I am really more that proud in feeling a kinship with Jorge Bergoglio. After all since I am Jorge Alejandro he is my tocayo. I have photographed enough people (including dubious politicians, hoods and crooks) to know what a genuine smile is.

Best of all in spite of the idiot simultaneous translators, to listen to someone speak Argentine Spanish with verve in that quiet way of Pope Francis’s I cannot but think that while I am not about to take up Pascal’s Wager I just might contemplate an enhanced oblivion.

The Black Pope & that Bergoglio Imbroglio





     

Previous Posts
Sandrine Cassini On My Red Psychiatric Couch

The Paris Opera Ballet & Alonso King Lines Ballet

Sandrine Cassini - A Soon-to-be Visit by an Appari...

The Clubhouse On Second

Sound Holes

Faded - Recovered - Scanned - Delight

El Absurdo Infinito

Miss D, My Chickering Baby Grand & Fuji FP-100C

Lee Lytton III & Friendly & Warm Ghosts

San Valentín



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3/4/12 - 3/11/12

3/11/12 - 3/18/12

3/18/12 - 3/25/12

3/25/12 - 4/1/12

4/1/12 - 4/8/12

4/8/12 - 4/15/12

4/15/12 - 4/22/12

4/22/12 - 4/29/12

4/29/12 - 5/6/12

5/6/12 - 5/13/12

5/13/12 - 5/20/12

5/20/12 - 5/27/12

5/27/12 - 6/3/12

6/3/12 - 6/10/12

6/10/12 - 6/17/12

6/17/12 - 6/24/12

6/24/12 - 7/1/12

7/1/12 - 7/8/12

7/8/12 - 7/15/12

7/15/12 - 7/22/12

7/22/12 - 7/29/12

7/29/12 - 8/5/12

8/5/12 - 8/12/12

8/12/12 - 8/19/12

8/19/12 - 8/26/12

8/26/12 - 9/2/12

9/2/12 - 9/9/12

9/9/12 - 9/16/12

9/16/12 - 9/23/12

9/23/12 - 9/30/12

9/30/12 - 10/7/12

10/7/12 - 10/14/12

10/14/12 - 10/21/12

10/21/12 - 10/28/12

10/28/12 - 11/4/12

11/4/12 - 11/11/12

11/11/12 - 11/18/12

11/18/12 - 11/25/12

11/25/12 - 12/2/12

12/2/12 - 12/9/12

12/9/12 - 12/16/12

12/16/12 - 12/23/12

12/23/12 - 12/30/12

12/30/12 - 1/6/13

1/6/13 - 1/13/13

1/13/13 - 1/20/13

1/20/13 - 1/27/13

1/27/13 - 2/3/13

2/3/13 - 2/10/13

2/10/13 - 2/17/13

2/17/13 - 2/24/13

2/24/13 - 3/3/13

3/3/13 - 3/10/13

3/10/13 - 3/17/13

3/17/13 - 3/24/13

3/24/13 - 3/31/13

3/31/13 - 4/7/13

4/7/13 - 4/14/13

4/14/13 - 4/21/13

4/21/13 - 4/28/13

4/28/13 - 5/5/13

5/5/13 - 5/12/13

5/12/13 - 5/19/13

5/19/13 - 5/26/13

5/26/13 - 6/2/13

6/2/13 - 6/9/13

6/9/13 - 6/16/13

6/16/13 - 6/23/13

6/23/13 - 6/30/13

6/30/13 - 7/7/13

7/7/13 - 7/14/13

7/14/13 - 7/21/13

7/21/13 - 7/28/13

7/28/13 - 8/4/13

8/4/13 - 8/11/13

8/11/13 - 8/18/13

8/18/13 - 8/25/13

8/25/13 - 9/1/13

9/1/13 - 9/8/13

9/8/13 - 9/15/13

9/15/13 - 9/22/13

9/22/13 - 9/29/13

9/29/13 - 10/6/13

10/6/13 - 10/13/13

10/13/13 - 10/20/13

10/20/13 - 10/27/13

10/27/13 - 11/3/13

11/3/13 - 11/10/13

11/10/13 - 11/17/13

11/17/13 - 11/24/13

11/24/13 - 12/1/13

12/1/13 - 12/8/13

12/8/13 - 12/15/13

12/15/13 - 12/22/13

12/22/13 - 12/29/13

12/29/13 - 1/5/14

1/5/14 - 1/12/14

1/12/14 - 1/19/14

1/19/14 - 1/26/14

1/26/14 - 2/2/14

2/2/14 - 2/9/14

2/9/14 - 2/16/14

2/16/14 - 2/23/14

2/23/14 - 3/2/14

3/2/14 - 3/9/14

3/9/14 - 3/16/14

3/16/14 - 3/23/14

3/23/14 - 3/30/14

3/30/14 - 4/6/14

4/6/14 - 4/13/14

4/13/14 - 4/20/14

4/20/14 - 4/27/14

4/27/14 - 5/4/14

5/4/14 - 5/11/14

5/11/14 - 5/18/14

5/18/14 - 5/25/14

5/25/14 - 6/1/14

6/1/14 - 6/8/14

6/8/14 - 6/15/14

6/15/14 - 6/22/14

6/22/14 - 6/29/14

6/29/14 - 7/6/14

7/6/14 - 7/13/14

7/13/14 - 7/20/14

7/20/14 - 7/27/14

7/27/14 - 8/3/14

8/3/14 - 8/10/14

8/10/14 - 8/17/14

8/17/14 - 8/24/14

8/24/14 - 8/31/14

8/31/14 - 9/7/14

9/7/14 - 9/14/14

9/14/14 - 9/21/14

9/21/14 - 9/28/14

9/28/14 - 10/5/14

10/5/14 - 10/12/14

10/12/14 - 10/19/14

10/19/14 - 10/26/14

10/26/14 - 11/2/14

11/2/14 - 11/9/14

11/9/14 - 11/16/14

11/16/14 - 11/23/14

11/23/14 - 11/30/14

11/30/14 - 12/7/14

12/7/14 - 12/14/14

12/14/14 - 12/21/14

12/21/14 - 12/28/14

12/28/14 - 1/4/15

1/4/15 - 1/11/15

1/11/15 - 1/18/15

1/18/15 - 1/25/15

1/25/15 - 2/1/15

2/1/15 - 2/8/15

2/8/15 - 2/15/15

2/15/15 - 2/22/15

2/22/15 - 3/1/15

3/1/15 - 3/8/15

3/8/15 - 3/15/15

3/15/15 - 3/22/15

3/22/15 - 3/29/15

3/29/15 - 4/5/15

4/5/15 - 4/12/15

4/12/15 - 4/19/15

4/19/15 - 4/26/15

4/26/15 - 5/3/15

5/3/15 - 5/10/15

5/10/15 - 5/17/15

5/17/15 - 5/24/15

5/24/15 - 5/31/15

5/31/15 - 6/7/15

6/7/15 - 6/14/15

6/14/15 - 6/21/15

6/21/15 - 6/28/15

6/28/15 - 7/5/15

7/5/15 - 7/12/15

7/12/15 - 7/19/15

7/19/15 - 7/26/15

7/26/15 - 8/2/15

8/2/15 - 8/9/15

8/9/15 - 8/16/15

8/16/15 - 8/23/15

8/23/15 - 8/30/15

8/30/15 - 9/6/15

9/6/15 - 9/13/15

9/13/15 - 9/20/15

9/20/15 - 9/27/15

9/27/15 - 10/4/15

10/4/15 - 10/11/15

10/18/15 - 10/25/15

10/25/15 - 11/1/15

11/1/15 - 11/8/15

11/8/15 - 11/15/15

11/15/15 - 11/22/15

11/22/15 - 11/29/15

11/29/15 - 12/6/15

12/6/15 - 12/13/15

12/13/15 - 12/20/15

12/20/15 - 12/27/15

12/27/15 - 1/3/16

1/3/16 - 1/10/16

1/10/16 - 1/17/16

1/31/16 - 2/7/16

2/7/16 - 2/14/16

2/14/16 - 2/21/16

2/21/16 - 2/28/16

2/28/16 - 3/6/16

3/6/16 - 3/13/16

3/13/16 - 3/20/16

3/20/16 - 3/27/16

3/27/16 - 4/3/16

4/3/16 - 4/10/16

4/10/16 - 4/17/16

4/17/16 - 4/24/16

4/24/16 - 5/1/16

5/1/16 - 5/8/16

5/8/16 - 5/15/16

5/15/16 - 5/22/16

5/22/16 - 5/29/16

5/29/16 - 6/5/16

6/5/16 - 6/12/16

6/12/16 - 6/19/16

6/19/16 - 6/26/16

6/26/16 - 7/3/16

7/3/16 - 7/10/16

7/10/16 - 7/17/16

7/17/16 - 7/24/16

7/24/16 - 7/31/16

7/31/16 - 8/7/16

8/7/16 - 8/14/16

8/14/16 - 8/21/16

8/21/16 - 8/28/16

8/28/16 - 9/4/16

9/4/16 - 9/11/16

9/11/16 - 9/18/16

9/18/16 - 9/25/16

9/25/16 - 10/2/16

10/2/16 - 10/9/16

10/9/16 - 10/16/16

10/16/16 - 10/23/16

10/23/16 - 10/30/16

10/30/16 - 11/6/16

11/6/16 - 11/13/16

11/13/16 - 11/20/16

11/20/16 - 11/27/16

11/27/16 - 12/4/16

12/4/16 - 12/11/16

12/11/16 - 12/18/16

12/18/16 - 12/25/16

12/25/16 - 1/1/17

1/1/17 - 1/8/17

1/8/17 - 1/15/17

1/15/17 - 1/22/17

1/22/17 - 1/29/17

1/29/17 - 2/5/17

2/5/17 - 2/12/17

2/12/17 - 2/19/17

2/19/17 - 2/26/17

2/26/17 - 3/5/17

3/5/17 - 3/12/17