The Frenchwoman with Log
Wednesday, February 07, 2018
My life to now has been full of people that I remember or I
have forgotten. Of some I only remember their faces but not their names. One person whom I can
recall vividly was a handsome young, blonde, blue eyed Argentine Navy lieutenant whose
voice I can place also in my memory. Years later he would fly suspected
Argentine terrorists (terrorists in that they were fighting a fascist military
regime). They might have been drugged or not. The fact is that this blonde
angel of death would slit their stomachs (so that they would sink quickly) and
push them off helicopters into the River Plate.
I could not have known this about him until recently so the enigma remains
how these people can switch from one state to another.
Other people in my life have passed by it briefly as the Frenchwoman with Log as she is labeled
in my photographic files. I must have photographed her in the late 70s on Wreck
Beach. I know she was French but I have long forgotten her name. I know nothing
of her and if I did I that information is gone.
I love her profile even though I did not know then how to
make my subjects pose so as not to show those unsightly neck folds.
My memory of the Blonde Angel of Death is vivid in my mind
while of the Frenchwoman with log is a fat and round zero in my recollection.
In modern photographic parlance photographers capture their
images. The three 35mm negatives (18 exposures) that are neatly filed represent
something that I cannot fathom except that these negatives are tactile. By
being tactile are they more real than my memory of that Blonde Angel of Death?
Two New York Interiors
Tuesday, February 06, 2018
When going as a
tourist to a big city like New York, no matter how long you stay, you will find
that there is never enough time. Rosemary and I managed to visit the
Metropolitan Museum of Art (for a whole day), the Frick and MOMA. We would have
liked to go to the Guggenheim but there were no hours left in our schedule.
wanted to visit the Whitney to see my favourite Edward Hopper, New York
Interior. We never did make it, but fortune granted me an unexpected surprise.
New York we went everywhere taking advantage of the subway (known as the MTA) even though it is
much more complex than my familiar Buenos Aires subte. The New York subway
could emulate some of the features of the subte. The most important would be to to use
all those vacant walls (and they are pretty well vacant) for ads.
we went to have dinner with Lenore Riegel and writer Jerome Charyn in Greenwich
Village. As we were climbing up the stairways there was the New York Interior.
lovely dinner at the Café Cluny we were invited by Charyn and Riegel to meet Ketzel
at their apartment.
would imagine a writer’s apartment, particularly one whose output exceeds 60
novels, shorts stories, etc (including one on ping-pong) is full of books.
Ketzel was charming and easy to photograph. Not so Charyn who closed his eyes
for many of my exposures.
|Left - New York Interior - Edward Hopper - Right Bronwen - Alex Waterhouse-Hayward|
Hopper’s painting has been New York Apartment even though I know better.
And so the
high moment of our trip to New York City were two New York Interiors.
Our George Will
Monday, February 05, 2018
In my years of shooting for magazines and newspapers I had
the good fortune of working with very good writers. Many as I look back now are
no longer with us.
There is one writer of which I do not know anything since I
last saw him in the late 80s or perhaps early 90s. I remember that I might have
worked with him for a magazine called Pacific Yachts.
George Will often told us how when he flew he was frequently
upgraded. He was confused for the then staunch American conservative writer and
columnist by the same name.
And perhaps because our George Will is called George Will I
have not found a single link anywhere to his existence in this 21st
I remember that his calmness and quiet behaviour could at
any moment explode to a hidden volatile anger. I remember he had a VW van. I
remember his standing by it when Vancouver
Magazine was at the corner of Davie and Richards.
I wrote Mac (Malcolm Parry) who know just about anything.
His answer to my question on the whereabouts of will had this as an answer:
*** No idea.
Luckily in my memory was an image of Will posing for me in
my Yaletown Studio on Hamilton Street and my using a forest gobo which I
projected with a circular spotlight behind him.
I went to my authors files and found him under W.
Of Will in Spanish we would say, "Se lo tragó la tierra."