That's what her brand of cigarettes was called. They were triggering her ability to disappear whenever she wanted to. That was her special gift. And that's why she had escaped the attention of other photographic investigators for so long. Not mine of course. The task was simple. Shoot her the moment she disappears and wait to see her reappear… because disappearing is understood, it's the reappearing that puzzled me. The mission was a success, but, then, you will never know if I am telling the truth. And I hope that you will also find it hard to believe that I have stolen some of her cigarettes while she was gone…
She drove a bright red 1969 Ford Cortina GT with white leather seats. She wore a bindi between her eyes and she ordered cold coffee. I knew she was a time machine malfunction visitor when I saw her taking out of her purse a bright yellow plastic toy film camera and started taking photos of everyone around. I stole that camera from her, the moment she handed the DJ a vinyl record with the soundtrack of Henry Mancini's Pink Panther asking him to play "Cortina" -if he wouldn't mind. She dissapeared in a flash, the moment Super Mario, the DJ, touched the record. And this was probably the reason why the record hadn't disappear as well. But when I reached for the vintage film camera in my bag, it wasn't there. "Maybe I am not here either", I thought.
It's funny how the lyrics of a song that you randomly hear on the radio or at the end of an episode of your favourite TV series sum up your understanding of a situation, of a day, even of your life. Or gives you a pretty good idea of how you would like things to be from now-on. "May the good Lord shine a light on you. Make every song (you sing) your favourite tune. May the good Lord shine a light on you. Warm like the evening sun", sung the Rolling Stones. And that was it for me... It's true there was already a connection between us, of course. You know, since "Angie"...
It was the day before the solstice and the day was happy because she wasn't the smallest. Her super small sister was expected tomorrow, the 21st of December and that was celebrated because it's a cool thing to know that you can't possibly get less light. And if you can't get less, you'll get more… I like to think that that's what subconsciously made the people around me so happy in that "bleak midwinter" Sunday. Or could it be the waiting for the longest night?
Photographing people drinking coffee or smoking is a routine for a photographic investigator… Photographing them eating cookies on the other hand is more challenging and a great deal more revealing. One way or the other, most photographic subjects have mastered the art of gesturing while enjoying a coffee or a smoke. Cookies are more unconventional. But I think much more enjoyable both for my subjects and me.
Bill Evans Trio was playing "It might as well be spring"on the radio. It was 1962 in a parallel dimension and the beginning of December was resembling more like the end of March. Her name was Martha Jones and she enjoyed her cold coffee in the middle of this springlike winter along with a cigarette. Cigarette smoking was strongly encouraged at this time in this dimension and that was making my investigations much more easy, because subjects are more relaxed when they smoke. I never rally knew who she was, but that wasn't my job anyway.
It's a mystic word. A promise. The first December morning coffee is proven to have magic powers and a trancsedental quality. A photographic investigator finds it very difficult to shoot a subject who drinks her first December morning coffee in black&white. Everything turns into colour. Sometimes you have to resign. Love, warmth, togetherness, friendship, protection are now not impossible notions. Even a photographic investigator must have faith in something...
Agent Cooper (you know, in Twin Peaks) liked his coffee "black like midnight on a moonless night". In my photographic investigations I have discovered that the blacker the coffee, the stronger it's meditative power… It's one of the great mysteries of coffee and photography. For me it is easier to investigate my subjects drinking coffee, so I notice these things… Hopefully the fellow photographic investigator of the future will find my observations useful.
This was the password phrase. I was investigating "The woman without a face", a notorious and mysterious ufologist and ancient civilisations specialist who had recently made a groundbreaking discovery… She was hiding in Plain Sight, a coffee shop that everybody could see but only the password would get you in. It was a 4 shots investigation and I can say one thing with certainty: she had beautiful hands.
It was really a pretext so I could get close to her. As usual, I was hired to investigate her. I didn't know why, only that she was a writer and a musician. I had to read her short stories and listen to her music and make her talk to me. What she didn't know was that it was really her pictures that were doing the talking. But I couldn't tell her that. I am often wondering about my employers motives when they send me to photographically investigate someone… I have managed to realise one thing: they know more about my subjects then what these subjects know about themselves. And of course that on the other hand there is always me... That all I really know about anything, is nothing.
Ipanema was the name of the bar. She was working there. Not in the morning when I took these shots, though… she was in Ipanema for some other business. I was there for her. I recognised her by her tattoos. I had to investigate and if I thought it necessary, to shoot her. I did. For a strange reason I always thought of a blond girl whenever I listened to that song… Well… who knows how a P.I.'s mind works? Certainly not me…
These are some high contrast jpg shots taken with the Ricoh GR… Completely unprocessed. I am impressed, because I was always shooting raw. It's like the feeling you have when you discover forgotten money in a pocket… Very cool.
It was a particularly hot and bright day. A big sun spot has caused a huge coronal mass ejection and everything in the city was going crazy… If you were lucky enough that your cell phone didn't explode, there were many chances that a private message you had the inspiration to send on Facebook would go public on Twitter… Crazy staff like that happened all the time but Irene was used to it… All she cared about that morning was how fast she could reach the coffee shop. She looked out the window and saw all she needed to know… The big red alert sign said: "Multiple sunglasses are needed".
