Feb 21 2007
Size matters
Some time ago I went to an exhibit with a woman in her sixties. Despite her age she was extremely elegant and good-looking. She was married to a quite successful visual artist. The couple had been growing apart for some years and whenever she spoke of him she would make no effort hiding her contempt.
When I asked her about her husband’s latest work, she laughed and said: ‘Well you know all Catholic men start to piss Holy Water once they are over the hill..’ She was referring to the fact that her husband, known for his straightforward and somewhat provoking approach to art, had changed into a man who was photographing plants, insects, flowers and butterflies.
I grinned and changed the subject, knowing that if I didn’t I would certainly trigger an avalanche of complaints about men in general.
Weeks later I actually met her husband. He was sitting in the garden of their second home somewhere in the South of France holding a tiny booklet he had printed himself on an old ink jet printer and in it were indeed photographs of animals and plants.
I had expected a more personal angle from a man who had been a revolutionary in his days, but the photographs were quite average. He turned the pages slowly, mumbling remarks like: ‘Isn’t nature marvelous? The design.. The design of that beetle.. My God, it never ceases to amaze me..’
He had not lost his marbles, as I would soon find out after dinner when he started lecturing me on five decades of art. And he certainly could hold his liquor a lot better than I could.
Yesterday I was reminded of that afternoon in France, while sitting behind a glass of Sprite in a café after a visit to a clinic where I am being treated for the results of a lifestyle based on one motto; ‘Live fast and die young’. I saw this man, older than me who had just returned from a trip to Thailand to be reunited with his favorite dog in the neighborhood bar. I was genuinely moved by what I saw. In my pocket was a mini camera that I was going to test that day — just for the fun of it. I took it out and asked the man if I could take a photograph.
In normal circumstances I would have taken out my Nikon with wide-angle zoom, which mostly results in all heads turning my direction. After that I usually have to reinvent the situation by giving directions to the person(s) photographed. When I held the compact Sony nothing happened. I just took the picture. The man came over to my table, looked at the picture on the tiny screen and walked up to others in the bar to show them ‘how cute’ the dog was.
This simple snapshot is dear to me. It is a picture that does not fit in any of the series of photographs I have made over the years. It shows happiness, whereas most of my photographs – with the exception of some of my studio portraits – mirror a rather grim view on people. I guess I am finally there; I have started to piss Holy Water too.