Niño in a Christmas past

Niño & Niña

And weltschmerz, ennui and malaise.  

Before I retired (not getting journalistic writing or photographic jobs) and when I had the company of my Rosemary, there were some days when we had nothing to do. We loved those days and never felt guilty.

That is now different. Rosemary is gone, I am usually on the bed with my two cuddly cats and I do nothing. I find it hard to read. I would rather stare at the ceiling and think.

My Portland friend Curtis Daily paid me a week-long visit. That was my excuse to write no blogs. He is gone and here I am cranking this blog for which I thought about all night.

The idea came to me that human love brings with it the complications of family relationships and the intimacy of a bed. When my male cat Niño (and his sister Niña, too) stare at me I have come to understand that this is pure love without the above mentioned complications (distractions?). In Plato’s world of ideas, I would now assert, that the love of a cat is perfect love. It is uncomplicated love. It is there.

As I stare at the ceiling, knowing I have to do nothing except feed my cats and myself, deal with the bathroom duties and clean the house and shop at my local Safeway, I know, that while this would not have been my thought when Rosemary was around, that I am waiting.

I am not waiting for something to happen. I am simply waiting for nature to take its course. I am waiting to die.

When Rosemary, a few minutes before she died asked us, “Am I dying?” she had a better idea, without the distractions of household menialities, of what she was doing.

I have reached that moment.

And so I wait but do have the comfort of the perfect love of two cats.

I took my first photograph sometime in 1958 in Austin, Texas when I was a boarder at a Roman Catholic school, St. Edward’s High School. I had purchased my first camera an East German SLR, a Pentacon-F.

I have been pressing the shutter of many a camera since that year to this day.

Because I worked as a free-lancer for many magazines and newspapers in Vancouver, Canada and around the world, by now I know a good photograph when I see one.

Our two daughters were young, and with Rosemary, we boarded the Royal Hudson steam train. I had attempted to get Rosemary interested in photography so I had purchased her a Pentax ME. In retrospect is should have barked.

As we walk on the train aisle our two daughters had sat down. Rosemary was always careful to dress them well knowing that I would probably photograph them.

I do no remember why it was that I had not brought my camera. I saw Hilary and Ale as you see here. I told Rosemary, “Lend me your camera.”

This photograph framed is on the left of my bed. I see it when I get up and when I get in bed. I would use all that cliché word – it is a signature shot.

I have taken many in my years in Vancouver since 1975. But there is something about this one that grabs. One of the reasons is because of the involvement of Rosemary. She is gone as is that Royal Hudson. Alexandra is now 56 and Hilary is going to be 53 this 14^th.

Time has passed but it has not diluted the impression that the photograph makes in me every time I look at it.

Here I have scanned a print with a T-shirt that I had made at London Drugs.

Hilary Anne Waterhouse-Hayward (now Stewart) - circa late 80s

 

In the last few weeks my youngest daughter Hilary has been helping me file family photographs. At age 82 I feel that I have to leave some order behind.

The average family might have a few family photographs and an album. Because I am a portrait photographer I have thousands of family pictures. What makes some good enough to keep and should others be thrown away?

It was my mother who told me often, “A photograph framed is a photograph saved.” I have printed and distributed in nice frames to my family the best (in my opinion).

What do to with a double b+w negative I have named “Hilary on floor 80s in our house in Kerrisdale”?

The advantage of having a scanner is that I can place it in a blog as I am doing today.

What will become of the negative once it is filed? Is my question important?

Rosemary 1968 - Alex 2 December 20924 - Curtis Daily

Because I am so often behind my camera I like to use the expression “who shaves the barber” in relation to photographs that others take of me. This does not happen often. This past week my Portland friend Curtis Daily paid me a visit. I asked him to “shave this barber”.

The technique is a one shot (if subject closes eyes, tough) and grossly underexposed with my Fuji X-E3. The colours are odd (I like them). I was happy with Daily’s portrait.

Last night, when he was gone I had long thoughts of how in so many travels with my Rosemary and daughters or granddaughters she would stand behind me and tell me to photograph them.

I regret that I did not take more portraits of her.

What you see here is one in a series that I took in Mexico City in 1968 a few months after we were married. I had never taken photographs of anybody in the nude. I love this shot as it shows her tenderness and beauty.

And yes this barber shaved the barber’s wife. And why this blog?

Curtis Daily and I visited Don Stewart’s Macleod Books. I spotted this lovely book in which photographer Arthur Ollman features the photographs taken by well-known photographers of their wives and lovers.