I Remember the Shapes and Sizes of the Water Taps

Ektachrome Blues 

Most of my family and friends either object or ignore my constant mentioning that because I am 83 I am statistically not going to be around much longer. Before my Rosemary died, I would tell her that I was WTD (waiting to die) but then softened it to PTD (preparing to die).

There is a pleasant side to PTD in that I am contacting people so as to tie up loose ends. I want to make sure I apologize if I offended any of them.

An even more pleasant activity is that in the last few weeks I have been sending from all my files all those pictures I took of all those lovely women beginning in Vancouver in 1977. I need first to have their email address so I can use the excellent WeTransfer method of sending many high res files.

I have written here before how painting artists go to live figure classes. They want to know exactly how the human figure moves. I did the same with my photography, particularly of women. This has served me well in taking portraits (a few fashion spreads) of both women and men. I never make my subjects sit, stand or walk in anything but the way they do it.

One of those women, who patiently kept silent at all my amateur photography, was an ecdysiast who went by the name of Alexandria. Who but Alexandria whom I photographed in my tub with a little sail boat, etc. could have launched:

1. A show at a Vancouver gallery of my portraits of about 14 women in tubs.

2. Associated in a blog of her in a tub with one of my mother’s favourite books, JarThe Bell  by Sylvia Plath. Particularly  I smile at the quote on Plaths bathtub faucets.

With Alexandria, perhaps because of her elegance, my photographs were never cheesy and the ones on her bed in low light were not exactly boudoir. One of those clichés of using venetian blinds on her body I think turned out quite nicely.

I must thank her here (I already sent her all her photographs) for her patience and for inspiration that in the end served me well for all my magazine work.

 These were all taken with Ektachrome 400 pushed to 800

8 April 2026

9 April 2026

When weather permits I make myself bike (3 speeds) to Jericho Beach and back. Today I was on my bed (fully clothed) ruminating why Brazilian writer Clarice Lispector is obsessed with the idea that the English word “it” does not translate into Spanish. She also writes that the most important word in language is “es” (it is) has only two letters.

If in English you write “it is” that translates to “es”. She or he is, translates to “es”.

That all becomes more complex when you find that the word está translates to “it is” with the possible translations to it is there, or está enferma as she is sick.

It was 2:30, the sun was shining and I asked myself to stay on the bed and not go on my bike. But I remembered my grandmother who would have said to me, “Ante pereza, diligencia.” That translates, “If you feel lazy try diligence.”

And so I went on my bike ride and here are a couple of photographs taken with the Lens Baby attachment to my Fuji digital camera.

Joanne

Salem

The Essence of a Woman

 The Platonic Essence that Makes a Woman be a Woman

A Woman's Essence 

Perfection Beyond Plato's Cave 

A few weeks ago I read Susan Sontag’s posthumous book On Women which she wrote in 1975. Not much has changed for women since then. As she points out, “Old men have character. Old women are ugly.”

My relationship with women, because I have been and am a portrait photographer, has been an unusual one. For reasons that escape me, about a year after I had married my Rosemary on February 8, 1968 I photographed her in the nude. I was much too shy to go below her waist. To this day those portraits, where Rosemary is looking straight into my lens have that (innocent?) have that Platonic essence of what a woman is.

The word Platonic not capitalized is now the common use of it and it has all to do with a relationship that does not include sex. I like the word capitalized as it narrows down in my portraits that desire to delve into my subject’s soul/essence.

By 1977 in Vancouver I started getting frequent calls from women I had never met who wanted me to photograph them. They liked to use the expression, “I want different photographs.” I soon figured out they wanted to be unclothed. Since 1977 I have amassed about 800 files of these women. The calls now are perhaps no more than twice a year.

Two of those early photographic sessions stand out for me. One was a receptionist at Vancouver Magazine. I was new at the game but the pictures are not bad.  The other was a woman who worked at the YWCA. When she called me she said, "I want my body to be photographed before gravity sets in."

Vancouver Magazine receptionist - Kodak B+W Infrared Film

YWCA instructor

Having red Sontag’s On Women I now look back on my photographs and I can at least point out that none are cheesy boudoir shots and none are pornographic, by my standards. I once tried to shoot pornographic and I was unable to as I realized that pornography involves bad taste.

Now with my life waning at 83 I want to keep taking photographs of women but with the new standards of this century (not predicted by Sontag) of having the woman be who she is. I would assert that if a trans woman contacted me I would happily do as they would please me to do and reflect who they are.

I am placing here two photographs I took in my past. One is of my friend Salem licking milk from a dish like a cat in my studio. Is this demeaning? Is it funny? 

Quite a few years ago I participated at a group show at the then Exposure Gallery. The show's topic was "Erotic". I photographed two different women with my camera centered on their faces while they were having a self-induced orgasm. I chose five pictures in a row with the one I thought was the important one in the middle and framed then. I was astounded when several women I knew came up to me at the show and asked, "Alex why did you not ask me?"

The other portrait is of Joanne who faced me with a stark eye contact. The picture is a result of an Ektachrome slide I shot pushed. Even though some chest shows I think that the portrait is of a woman who is proud of being who she is.

It is an essence of who she is.

Back lane garden - 8 April 2026

 

Jericho Beach 8 April 2026

Dear Rosemary,

Because you stare at me from your framed portrait that I see when I am on the bed with Niño and Niña, your presence in our Kits home is there even if you are not indenting your side of our bed.

I have good news. Today is Wednesday April 8 and I believe spring is here. Why? I watered the garden! Best of all I cleaned up our lane garden and cut the grass close to the bed with scissors as you always did.

You are constantly in my thoughts. Like you, I also think we will never meet again. Our cats are a constant reminder that we went to adopt them at the SPCA and that you petted them.

I have not changed our morning routine of going down to feed them; preparing my breakfast and bringing it up in the Filipino wicker tray. I read the NY Times and the slim Vancouver Sun and only wish we could compare notes.

The rest of the day I am in a sort of existential angst. Because of your intelligent handling of funds I don’t have to worry about money. I am having a hard time finding stuff to do. An important but pleasant task is to write my daily blog. You are always there over my shoulder.

When I pass by this lovely tree in Jericho Beach I am most thankful all you gently taught me about gardening and being able to notice the details. Those views on my way in my bike cement my appreciation for your decision that we move from Mexico City to Vancouver in 1975. You were always right. 

I am reading the Ukraine-born Brazilian author Clarice Lispector and I only wish I could compare notes on her with you. You would like her. She writes that the shortest word is “is”. You are that in my mind and will always be until both of us are not.

Alex