There was a mysterious gardener in Villa Herriot, in Venice. He appears in the mornings and talks to the few visitors of this magnificent place, but none of the residents is aware of his existence. He never appears in a company of more than 2 people and he always talks about the marvels of the garden and about other, mystical, hidden garden treasures in Venice. I saw him and I talked to him while passing through, but sadly, I didn't photograph him. When I talked to people of him, everyone looked at me like I was crazy... "Gardener? What gardener?", they said. I scheduled a photographic investigation in the Villa hoping to capture a shot of him. Of course he did not appear. My subject was beautiful and full of grace though... Her name was Ramona, and she had also seen the gardener. Maybe some gardeners can't be seen by everyone, I thought. Especially in Venice...
Very often in Venice, spies like to disguise as fashion models. And it's a good disguise because it allows them not to avoid photographers while hiding. One of the paradoxes of the ingenious venetian spy web that I have come to know so well in the last years. The only clue that I had about the place of this photographic investigation was a word: Arcana. At first I though that it had to do with tarot cards (and started cursing because I had forgotten my tarot deck in Athens), but then I remembered Corto Maltese's "Corte Sconta called Arcana" in his adventure "Fable of Venice". Of course I was one of the 5 people who had the key to this secret place. There are no coincidences in the photographic investigation business. He was there, waiting. I did my job, as I always do.
I don't know if it was an entrance or an exit. Maybe neither. There was light, so inevitably there were shadows. I remembered an arabic song called "Fly shadow, fly". Could I be investigating -without knowing it- the ability of a shadow to fly? Well, if it could, it should do it followed by this melody.
She always had it in her purse. The dark mirror. A little mirror that would remain dark unless her partner and soul mate was around. This mirror had been dark for a long time since this man was missing -somewhere in Sierra Nevada. It was too dangerous to try to contact him, so she was letting her instinct lead her to nearby destinations in the high mountains of California. She was hiding in the shadows and secretly picking at the little mirror. My assignment was to steal it from her, but I let her suffer by it's darkness a little more. Maybe like this she wouldn't miss it so much afterwards.
What can really be the end of a photographic investigator is not travelling in space, but travelling in time. And I've done that a lot... For some unexplained and probably mystical (or totally meaningless) reason, every time I had to travel in time I was going back to Venice. So, my energy resources were every time smaller, although my ticket was getting cheaper and cheaper. It felt like a countdown. "Al fin, que para morir nacimos" as they say in Mexico... "In the end, we are born to die". Who knows? Maybe the end of my photographic investigations would come in the middle, inside the time vortex, outside of time. I wonder if all my work would disappear with me too. It should, I think.
I once bought a perfume in India, called "Night in Vrindavan". It was very exotic and "indian" -only those who have been to and loved India know what I mean- and it's name stayed with me for more than 25 years... I thought it had to do with some romantic notion, but I found out, by chance, that it had to do with the local belief that every night, in the Nidhivan forest, Lord Krishna appears, performing the divine dance with his consort, Radha. A really mystical, divine act that can't be witnessed by ordinary people, as it can drive them mad. Vrindavan is the childhood place of Lord Krishna, a holy place for the hindus. My subject was making open plans for a trip around the world and had just purchased some new clothes. Written in the label of the most beautiful blouse was the word "Vrindavan"... She told me that her first stop would be India. This subject had to be further studied, I thought to my self. To be continued...
Her husband was rich and determined to be a film producer. He was a film noir lover and wanted her to be the star in the remake of a classic 1941 movie, "High Sierra", starring Ida Lupino and Humphrey Bogart. He also wanted to shoot the movie in an original location in the Sierra Nevada, the "snowy mountain range"... She loved those mountains. It was high and cold in High Sierra and it reminded her the time when she met the infamous "Mexican", a writer who became her closest friend. But that was all in the past... She indulged her husband because she secretly hoped that fate would bring him into her life once more. The Mexican was missing and he was always enchanted by the high, cold mountains of California.
I am not always hired to photographically investigate mysterious personalities. Sometimes my assignments have to do with some secret technological invention or material, informations hidden in peoples clothes or accessories and so on... This time I found myself again in Venice, investigating... a dress. It was made by a revolutionary material, called "Incognito" that didn't need washing or ironing and could stay fresh for a maximum of 10 days, making it the ideal item for medium time getaways or business travel (even vacation). It was conceived to accommodate the ideal of "no luggage traveling", an ideal that I am proud to say that I am a great advocate of, since I love travelling to exotic places only with the clothes I am wearing, my photography kit and my book. I had figured that everything else I could need (mostly pareos, hats, sunscreen and swimming suits) I would be able to buy there. The dress in question was ideal for spring and summer travel and the traveler should be able to carry all that she would need in the large bag that came with it as an indispensable accessory, mostly because women feel secure by caring a bag -being a huge bag carrier myself, this is a mystery I haven't solved yet.
That was the name of her destination, a place one could travel to without moving, since it was in another dimension. I have done so many trips of that sort in my photographic investigations career that I was reluctant to follow. Interdimensional travel is very dangerous for the life of the photographic investigator because it depletes -in a very rapid rate- the vital energy supplies. I didn't have much of them anymore. But a photographic investigator can't just sit and preserve whatever energy she has left. It's like being dead already. "You never know which one could be your last investigation" I thought to myself. It might as well be this one.
That was the objective of yet another assignment, another photographic investigation. Once I found her and I completed my job, though, I realised I wasn't the only one looking for her. Of course once one realises that she is always hiding in plain sight, suddenly there is no need for looking. Anyway, she was here only temporarily, so I had to take advantage of that. I found out that she was heading to a place called Graceland and I decided to follow her there. This place is found in another reality and I didn't know if there was any energy left in me for all this. Time travel and reality crossing is exhausting, it depletes a photographic investigator's vital energy. One of these days I was about to complete my last mission, I knew that, maybe this one would be in Graceland, after all. More about that in the following blog post (if there is going to be one...).
"Pollyanna's door to happiness" is still one of my favourite reads in times of stress, turmoil and disappointment. Yes, it's a child's book. Keeping the Pollyanna principle (seeing always the positive side of everything) alive and active at all times requires great vigilance and alertness concerning one's thoughts and emotions -if they are not predisposed that way. Training myself in achieving the "Pollyanna" attitude has proven straining at times, which is kinda funny, given that this is an attitude that has been proven to increase significantly a photographic investigator's energy levels. We are what we are after all and that's fine. That doesn't stop me from being amazed though by my models' natural inclination to that way of seeing life. A very encouraging thing, surely for "hopeful optimists". Although a hopeful optimist is never an optimist...
"Shy coffee" is a code name for a very common situation in the photographic investigation business. It informs the photographic investigator that it's subject knows that is being investigated, and that she also thinks she knows why that happens. So the subject acts with a certain kind of controlled shyness and openness at the same time, making the photographic investigator's work easy. Of course all this is just a decoy. She is being investigated for a completely different reason, one that she can't even grasp. But deception is all there is anyway, so to not be using it would be out of this world. This photographic investigator is not at all against that notion -except she has 2 faithful helpers to feed: the infamous Juanita & Lupe dynamic duo... The things we do for love...
Miles Davies gave it another life, but this is a Snow White song and as such it should be sung with snow white faith and snow white impatience. Two things that a photographic investigator always finds in abundance in her young subjects...
One of the most essential reasons mystery people -the people I investigate- prefer Venice for their activity is that Venetians never use gondolas. They are reserved for the dreadful tourists. So the people in question use them widely. Who wants to look at a tourist in Venice? Hiding in plain site has always been their game.
The clues I usually get are as vague as this one, so I wasn't really surprised. It was easy to find him and to follow him in an empty hotel. He started going down and down and down some endless stairs. "What could happen?" I thought... Well, I should have asked myself another question -and there are so many... Because as soon as I blinked, in the place of the thin man there was a thin woman. Going down and down and down these stairs...
One of the basic duties of a photographic investigators helper is to prepare her boss a good cup of coffee. And Juanita makes it perfect. So perfect in fact that she had offers to work for fellow photographic investigators, one of which, doubled her salary! I had to promise her that we will move to Hawaii in less than 6 months (and to let her explore all day outside) to make her stay with me. Fortunately a cat's sense of time is slightly different than a human's...
A photographic investigator realises, sooner or later, that when one goes expecting a double trouble, they usually find a triple one. There is always a subject willing to be a part of the investigation, which is never a problem for me. Besides, either a subject has been investigated many times or none at all, it's the same. Every photographic investigation is the first investigation. The music of the investigation was hawaiian... Keola Beamer was playing - 'Imi Au Ia 'Oe... "I am searching for you".
It was scheduled for Christmas day of 1944 in a New York hotel and, as it happened so often lately, I had to travel in time -again. I was a little concerned because a photographic investigator can safely make no more than 6 time travels in a period of 2 years and this would be my 5th one. I didn't want to waste them in case a grand photographic investigation opportunity presented itself... It would be a crime not to be able to go, but, the truth is that you can never know if an investigation is important until after the investigation. So, I couldn't say no, although I was reluctant in my heart. But I also had faith. Besides, even if it would end up to be a complete debacle, there would be something there for me, anyway. The year was 1944 and I had met the infamous film noir director Otto Preminger in another time travel photographic investigation. We had some good laughs and he promised me that the next time we met, he would let me investigate Gene Tierney right at the premiere of the greatest film noir of all times, "Laura", that was due for that same day. They say it's bad luck to wish for a photographic investigation to fail, but I did anyhow...
There are many ways to communicate and a photographic investigator knows that, although she has chosen to do it through visual stimulation, images and mood, these are the most deceptive forms of communication. But the important thing is to keep the channels open, despite of the importance, truth or value of the message conveyed. The only way to do that is to keep communicating. What will actually be communicated at the end of the day, has very little to do with the photographic investigator's intention or the recipients conscious perception.
This was his code name and I was supposed to photographically investigate him while passing by the infamous Bridge of Sighs in Venice. Ironically, the real Casanova had actually crossed that bridge. But then, Casanova was one of the very few that had managed to escape from the prisons of Venice... That should have made me a bit more careful and alert, but it didn't. So I ended up mesmerised by what was supposed to be the last sight the future prisoners had of the sky and the outside world -and what a world that was!- and my inner ear fell wide open to their sighs and their thoughts. "Ponte dei Sospiri" was the name given to it by Lord Byron, who, like me, was using Venice to escape from uncomfortable realities... There are no coincidences, I knew that, that's why, deep inside, I knew that my Casanova -like the real one- had already escaped, not because he fantasised or dreamed about it, but because it was the only thing to to.
