I
"You know that stuff you hear? about
primitive people thinking photographs steal your soul? Have you ever really
thought about it? about how thoroughly unlikely this
is? Let's see, so: somewhere in deepest Amazonia the
debonair anthropologist Sir Cecil Highclass plants a
tripod and one of those big old cameras in front of the savage tribe leader Oogooboogoo and !click! that night
Sir Cecil develops the plate and next morning shows it to Oogooboogoo
'and thus began the War of the Amazons.' So what's wrong here? Thing is, Oogooboogoo doesn't even know what he looks like in the
first place. Oh, maybe a couple of his wives saw it and said, 'It's very like,'
but not even they would think it was actually him, let alone his soul. I mean,
don't these people make things? They're familiar with making things, right? and so the whole thing's a crock, a projection we make. It
more likely describes our 'civilized' ideas about the soul, get it? Do you ever
look like your self in photographs? I don't. I know what I look like, and I don't
see myself there. (I'm much more handsome, for one.) Maybe it's because of the
strangeness of a photograph of yourself that makes
people--sophisticated people--think that the photo is definitely of something
else, not yourself. And if it's not yourself, what
is it of? Maybe this is one of the ways the world on occasion pulls itself
inside out. Like, pure exteriority becomes pure interiority.
"I did nothing wrong! It wasn't my fault! And now I've got this
picture I wasn't expecting to have--the image I didn't try to get--but how
could anyone know I wasn't trying to get this photograph? and
who can ever, how could I ever find out if the pose was intentional? If only I
knew more--but I can't think of a single way I can know more! It's been years, it's been years since.... I can't solve this problem,
can it be true, was it intentional? Amazing then that
I was too stupid to notice, if there was anything to notice because if it was
all an accident or it was casual--like, then there's really no meaning to any
of it but I want it to mean something! A whole year I suppose before I can
figure anything out and who knows will I ever have the chance to say anything
unprompted? I don't think I'll find anything out next year,
or the year after that...." and so on and so on as he walked along.
II
(46 years earlier)
BLOW-UP Michelangelo Antonioni explores
another dead zone--the land of London in this arty lotus-eater disguised as
a thriller. Newcomer star David Hemmings plays a
fashion photographer who one afternoon snaps some pictures of an event in a
park that may or may not be a clue to a murder. At least that's what the
producer says in the press package. Me, I couldn't see what Hemmings
is looking at during a lengthy sequence of ersatz darkroom shenanigans. Vanessa
Redgrave plays the woman in the park to whom
something does not happen. The tennis-game at the end nearly redeems it; worth
the wait. Also features a noisy band performing for sullen silent teens who only liven up when the guitarist smashes his instrument
and tosses the wreckage to the fans. I suppose this has some meaning, too. In
any case, how plausible is it that some single detail in a photograph could
have an effect on everything around it? Isn't ordinary vision complicated
enough? Opens today at the Towne.
III
(6 days earlier)
A mild Thursday late afternoon was upon two joined picnic tables at a
rented cottage on the east side of Bala Park Island
when 'the whole gang' took their places to dine on lake trout barbecued slowly
over hardwood charcoal (and no chemical lighter fluid), green beans, salad,
little potatoes, and corn. The central couple, the hinge of the whole affair,
was a man by the name of Stephen Aitch and his wife who had taken the name Beverly
Aitch. This was the second marriage (widower and widow) for them, and both had
been accompanied by their single offspring: in Stephen's case, by his daughter Annabee, and in Beverly's case, by his son Tony. Each of
these, in turn, has unmarried spouses and two children apiece. Also present
were Stephen's mother, Harriet, and Beverly's father, Hank. Save for these last
two characters, the whole lot had been vacationing on the east side of Bala Park Island for eleven years (though not everyone
was there every year, if you know what I'm saying). Harriet and Hank: this was
their first time there. It was a special occasion, see. And that's what 'the
whole gang' was there, see.
Tony swung his leg over the bench carefully to not spill either his
bourbon or his plate. He continued, "And so all these undeveloped
photographs--I guess negatives?--were in this apartment around Chicago, and this guy decided to develop
them--"
"King Tut? Jimmy Hoffa? um, Capone's vault, of course, Chicago!" shouted up Annabbe
(with whom Tony had had, ah, certain feelings for since the day they had
first met seven years past).
"No, not at all, you," Tony said as he shoved his new
digital camera--his first camera in fourteen years--out of the way of his
plate. "The guy developed them and he found they was
all really great. They were of people in Chicago, like, fifty years ago. Just ordinary people."
"You've seen some of them?" she said. (Why were they the
only two talking?)
"Some ten or so. But there's thousands. It's one of the
great photography finds of the past, I don't know, twenty years."
"Imagine that. All those pictures not seen.
How could you not want to know what they showed?"
"She was a pack-rat."
"How could you not want to see them, because who knows what you'll
see?"
"Well, she took the pictures. She'd know."
"But there's always stuff you can't see. That's the whole point
of photography, you. Optics in general. 'To see that which is unseen.' Oh dear, I seem to be lacking
for wine."
IV
(13 days earlier)
Tony was walking through the lobby two days before going off on
holiday and he ran into one of his fellows--by the name of Victor. Victor was
an extremely easy-going guy. Every couple weeks he had to be told to put shoes
on.
"Hey, Tony, so you're off?"
"The day after tomorrow. I can't wait. City
noise. Driving me crazy. Can't
think straight."
"That sounds good. Up north, right?"
Victor was wearing shoes.
"Yes, family stuff but some time alone. Free. Got
a camera this time. Bought it last year."
"Great! Bring back some pix. What'll
you be after?"
"Textures mostly."
"Hmm?"
Tony fidgeted. "I like the textures of things. Oh, and I guess
family. Nature."
"Must be wildlife up there."
"Yeah, birds. Chipmunks and fish. There's
a beaver dam nearby."
"Ah, you gonna shoot some
beaver."
"I suppose I could."
"Beaver shots."
"I get it."
"Shots of beaver."
"The ones with the teeth and
tails, Victor."
Victor smiled. "That's precisely what I'm talking about."
V
(5 days and 20 hours earlier)
The rented vacation cottage to which 'the whole gang' had returned to
again and again for eleven years had at its heart a large open space with two
couches, some chairs, some tables, and a piano. Tony was sitting in a chair,
his back to the big window-wall that looked down onto the midnight lake, while Annabee
sprawled along one of the couches with her feet closest to him and the spouses
of Tony and Annabee were at opposite ends of the
other couch, beer bottles in hand. Everyone else had gone off to bed. Tony and Annabee were still dominating the conversation. Now they
were talking about politics but I won't tell you what they were saying because
this is a family magazine. Just let it be known that they were talking about
politics and naturally nothing significant was being said. Tony was looking
around at the warm wood walls, at his wife, at his step-sister's husband,
sensing the solitude of their situation (while the chatter occupied a smaller
portion of his attention). He said he had some business to take care of, arose
and left the room, took care of his business and as he was returning he
snatched up his camera from the little counter that separated the space from
the kitchen. He looped its loop around his wrist and left it hang as he
re-positioned himself in his chair and leaned back. He noticed that from his
vantage point he could easily snap a shot of the three of them with the kitchen
window to the back and the edge of the piano to the right and the corner of a paint-by-number to the left. There was talk about all the
empty wine bottles.... all the empty beer bottles.... and the empty scotch
bottle. Tony turned on his camera, brrrr it said. He
caught it all in the screen: Annabee and her feet and
her legs and her skirt, the piano, the kitchen and its window, the
pain-by-numbers, the other couch with his wife and Annabee's
husband. The composure was balanced and the kitchen window was a nice black
square and the couches were couched symmetrically and there were three wine
bottles fittingly kind of in the middle. And he pressed the button and there
was a flash and the image appeared briefly on the screen before being replaced
by reality once again. And that was all. He only wanted the one shot.
VI
(11 days earlier)
By chance, grandmother Harriet and grandfather Hank arrived at the
marina at the same time and thus telephoned the island together for someone to
come pick them up. They had never met before, and as they watched the lake for
an approaching outboard motorboat they talked.
HARRIET: Terrible we've never met before now.
HANK: I was having gall bladder surgery when the wedding took place.
HARRIET: So I heard. A shame. It was a good
wedding.
HANK: Such a sad situation, though. Widow and
widower.
HARRIET: They're making the best of it.
HANK: But now, everyone's here. And, I must say, dee-lighted
to make your lovely acquaintance.
HARRIET: O, the feeling is mutual, my good sir.
HANK: Heh. Strange we both got here at the
same time.
HARRIET: Kismet.
HANK: Yeah, Kismet. Take my hand, I'm a
stranger in paradise....
HARRIET: You're dating yourself.
HANK: Hah! No-one left to date at seventy. You know, I believe my
grandson has a thing for your granddaughter.
HARRIET: Look, there's the boat. It's Stephen! Lemme
get a picture.
VII
(6 days and 2 hours earlier)
As the lake trout barbecued slowly, Tony looked over the group: his
wife, his children, his mother, his grandfather, his step-father, his mother,
his daughter (Annabee), her husband, her children. They had grouped and sorted themselves. The
four kids (in their bathing suits) were tossing a beach ball around, the two
elders had the place of honour in the Muskoka chairs
where they were talking intimately probably about the olden days, Tony's wife
and Annabee and her husband talking about culture,
and the central couple, mother and father-in-law, visible through the window in
the kitchen. Tony put down his scotch and got his camera. It was a good camera.
Nice and light. Lots of features too, apparently. No
learning curve noteworthy. To get the view of each from the view of each was
his goal.... How the kids saw their great-grandparent and
step-great-grandparent (from behind the chairs, two heads leaned together
conspiratorially), their mother and father and step-aunt or mother and
step-aunt and -uncle (sideways, catching Annabee's
nice profile), and their grandfather and step-grandmother or grandmother and
step-grandfather (had to zoom there to see them in the kitchen through the
door).... How Annabee, her husband, and
step-sister-in-law saw the four kids (ball-in-air, all arms up, all laughing),
their father or father-in-law or step-father-in-law and their step-mother or
step-mother-in-law or mother-in-law (through the kitchen window, camera held
high in a cheat), and the couple two generations higher (Muskoka
chairs in a three-quarter profile).... How the old couple saw their
great-grandchildren (different angle from the last but still the ball-in-air),
their children (nicely framed by the kitchen window), and their granddaughter
and grandson-in-law and step-granddaughter-in-law or step-granddaughter and
step-grandson-in-law and granddaughter-in-law (the back of Annabee,
tight in an arc).... How the hinge couple, Stephen and Beverly Aitch in the
kitchen ("Move aside a sec, I'm taking pictures") saw their
grandchildren (framed in the window, seen with a mighty lean over the sink,
ball-in-air), their mother/mother-in-law and father/father-in-law (full view of
their conspiracy brewery), and Stephen's daughter (Annabee)
and son-in-law and step-daughter-in-law or Beverly's daughter-in-law and
step-daughter and step-son-in-law (talking about Justified and drugs)....
Tony went back to his generation and took pictures from there of the next
generation, the previous generation, and that generation's previous generation
(eight characters all told; I will not name them individually because that
would just confuse you). Twelve pictures altogether. He said to his wife,
"Pictures of every group from every other group's positions." She
said, "There always has to be some gimmick;" Annabee
quickly added, "Always looking for that special angle."
VIII
(4 days earlier)
Saturday morning. Departure day.
Hank and Harriet leave at the same time, in the same boat, driven
over at the ungodly hour of 6:30 by Stephen. He watched them walk up to
their cars, stop, and talk. Stephen left them there, still talking, and putted
back across the lake.
The rest (numbering ten) sit down to bacon and eggs. Friday night had
been sedate and simple in contrast to Thursday night's blow.
Annabee's husband had to be back by one, so
after the goodbyes, away they went, driven again across by Stephen.
Upon his return, Stephen found Tony sitting on the dock with his
camera.
Tony said, "I love this place so much."
Stephen put his hands on his hips and said, "It's pretty
special."
Tony sighed and lay back. He was seeing like a child. Stephen was so
big!
Tony said, "Wait." He aimed his lens up at Stephen,
towering against the sky, Annabee's father, like a
giant, ready to crush him, white and blue sky behind.
"That's a good one."
Click.
Stephen said, "You'll send all those pictures around,
right?"
"Sure thing."
IX
(30 minutes earlier)
Tony had loaded all the photographs onto his computer and he was
going through the family photos, saving the nature pictures for another time.
He looked at the twelve he took before they had dinner that night. He was happy
to see they all worked, more or less. Then he proceeded to check out the
picture he'd taken later, inside, just the four of them. He looked at each
element, delighting in the symmetry and composition; going clockwise, there was
Annabee, piano, kitchen window, paint-by-numbers, his
wife, Annabee's husband; then he scanned it
counter-clockwise, seeing Annabee's husband, his
wife, paint-by-numbers, kitchen window, piano, Annabee,
Annabee's pussy.
It's an illusion! Tony zoomed in. Oh my God. There's no illusion.
How could I have missed it? I was looking elsewhere. I was my own
magician.
But ... was it an accident? some kind of
wardrobe malfunction?
Who goes to a family gathering without underwear? (Asides
from me, of course.)
Maybe it wasn't an accident. Maybe she was ... signalling to me. Displaying availability. (I think chimpanzees do this too.)
And if that's it: what an idiot I am!
I didn't see! I wasn't paying attention!
(How many opportunities are lost due to the world's misprision?)
Was it intentional? How did I miss it?
Get a grip; it was an accident. People just naturally wear
fewer clothes in the summer. There are no exceptions to the rule. Who knows how
much underwear was being worn that night?
But how could she have not known? Couldn't she feel, I don't know, a
breeze?
Tony zoomed out. Everything in the frame was blurry to him, except
for that pussy!
Now I know that I've got a crush on Annabee,
always have and always will, but ... does it mean she knew, and reciprocated?
How can I find out? When? Next year? Do I really have to wait a whole
year? I don't have her phone number or anything, and there's no way to get it
without arousing suspicion. And anyway, what could I say?
What an upskirt!
A couple scenarios ran through his head. Then a couple salacious
scenarios ran through his head.
How to know? How to know?
He shut down the computer. He went into the kitchen. He said to his
wife, "I'm going for a walk."
X
(2 months later)
Thanksgiving.
Beverly had forgotten to get the candles for
her husband's birthday (which happened to fall, like Thanksgiving, on October
13).
"I'll go get some candles," said Annabee.
Tony jumped up. "I'll go with you!"
Annabee smiled at this enthusiasm. "Well okay."
Driving along, Tony said, "There's a picture from Bala I want to show you."
"It must be the one you didn't send."
She pulled over. Tony switched on his camera. He didn't have to find
the picture; it was there, and had been there, on the screen, for two months.
She looked at the picture.
"So when did you notice?"
"About a week later."
Annabee sighed. "I wish you'd noticed then." She put her hand on his
knee. "I was ready for you."
Tony put his hand on her knee. "Sorry I didn't notice. Big mistake."
Annabee smiled. "Two months is nothing. Are you staying
overnight?"
"We weren't planning to. But I guess I can fix that."
"That would be much appreciated."
Annabee got back on the road. They went to a dollar
store, and they bought two packages of candles.
X
(2 months later)
Thanksgiving.
Beverly had forgotten to get the candles for
her husband's birthday (which happened to fall, like Thanksgiving, on October
13).
"I'll go get some candles," said Annabee.
Tony jumped up. "I'll go with you!"
Annabee smiled at this enthusiasm. "Well okay."
Driving along, Tony said, "There's a picture from Bala I want to show you."
"Okay."
She parked at the dollar store. "What do have to show me?"
Tony silently passed the camera to her.
She looked. "Well, that's shocking."
"Was it intentional?"
"Was what intentional?"
"Look." Tony leaned over and pointed out the pixels that
represented Annabee's very own pussy. "Was this
some kind of signal?"
She laughed. "So you got an upskirt! Huh.
But it's an illusion. It's fake. Sorry, Tony. That's not anything."
"Oh. I guess we should get those candles."
"It's like the light was such-and-such. I'm not showing you
anything here. You're my step-brother."
Tony deflated. "I'm sorry. I thought it meant something."
"Not there."
"So what's so shocking?"
"In the picture?"
"Yeah."
"Look."
Tony looked. He hadn't seen it.
Annabee said, "There, back in the kitchen. My grandmother blowing your grandfather."
He truly hadn't seen it.
