Years ago I spied a woman eating at the table next to mine in a cafe, both of us alone. I watched her eat for about half an hour (taking her time, decidedly not in a rush), and when I saw her readying herself to leave, I approached her. Asked if I could make a few photographs of her sometime. Something I've done about five times in my life probably. And she said yes.
Looking back on it, my self-confidence as a photographer of portraits was, at best, negligible. But I watched her move her fork and take breaths and look around between bites, and I could not resist. I can't say it was infatuation or chemistry-based interest at all; in fact, we saw each other only twice and that was enough for us both.
But we did make photos together. We walked to two different parks near my home. I shot with a digital camera and a Polaroid at that time. I shot with the digital camera to make clear, flattering images that would captivate the subject, and I shot the Polaroid to make images that captivated me. I remember us being relatively happy with what we made. I even posted about our exchange in detail on a website that, not long after, deleted my account in its entirety and without warning.
Frankly, I've thought little about our interaction and exchange. Nothing mind-blowing but nothing terrible. Which is what a lot of exchange is like in life, thank goodness, or it would be overwhelming. So when, in Central Texas recently, I ran into her - and recognized her, quite unlike me and my low facial recognition - a handful of photographs and memories rose up to the surface as if my current life were a pond into which I peered.
And then, somehow, I found these, purposefully and fantastically out-of-focus, reminders/remainders.
If the site hadn't listed the date, I could in no way have guessed it, not even the year, not by a long shot.
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a screengrab from a post shared by Baby Beth Ella,
Polaroids shot under the bridge near my home:
1 comment:
This is great.
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