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| Rebecca and Hosta 'Liberty' 13 May 2023 |
It is plainly obvious that because I have written 5811 blogs beginning in January 2006 that I have forgotten many of them and that I often repeat the themes of my past blogs in the present.
Twice (at least) I have written about the origins of the word in English portrait and its equivalent in Spanish retrato. Because of all the spare time I have being obsolete, redundant, retired & inconsequential I spend lots of time comparing in my mind the two languages that I speak.
In those above blogs on the portrait I mention that when I shoot a portrait, something of the person I take out (withdraw?) from them, is embedded in my photograph, particularly if it is a good one and it has eye contact.
Last night 12 May, 2023 I looked at Rebecca’s portrait that is on the floor in my bedroom. Because of the flood in my house two weeks ago I have been told to remove all the framed portraits from the wall. I stared at this one, which is special as I used the natural light in my studio (the one I occupied for many years on the corner of Robson and Granville). The César Pelli Eatons/ Sears building across the street with its huge white wall shed light into my studio. Arthur Erickson, probably one of the few who knew of Pelli told me that the light in my studio was “God’s Light”.
Staring at that portrait (and I decided that instead of putting here the photo scan that I would place the frame in my garden) It came to me that when I take a portrait, particularly of someone I think (important that) I know well, It came to me that Rebecca and others I have photographed have withdrawn something of me while shooting them. And could it be that not only was a withdrawal there might be something given that remains in my memory?
My two granddaughters is something that Rosemary shared with pleasure for many years, at least 16 or 17 years. The two girls, Rebecca and Lauren became teenagers and then adults. They are 25 and 20. In this century that connection with grandparents (I had a wonderful one with my abuelita) has all but vanished. Since Rosemary died two years and six months ago I rarely see the two and they never call me. When I text one of them, she rarely texts back.
What this portrait of Rebecca has given me is the memory of good times with her that will never return. Perhaps in taking this portrait, Rebecca added to me a facility to improve a talent to take further portraits of her and of others well.
But something of me, withdrawn had died out there and not to return.
I feel sad.
