My Pepere was a professional photographer, as was one of his sons and one of that son’s daughters. Two of my children have studied photography. I’m the one in the family that cuts off heads and takes still shots of the garage floor. In response to my admiration of a series of his photographs featuring everyday objects, my friend B, the inspired photographer whose work appears at Intervallic, gave me an assignment. I was to take a picture of clothespins (could we get any more ordinary, every-day?) and then write about the process.
I’ve been staring at the clothesline through my camera lens for days now. My billowing pillowcases do not look like objects d’art, nor do my bathroom rug or my faded blue jeans inspire poetry. But oh! Look what happened when I took a picture of the three clothespins my landlady left on the line after removing her dishcloths.
What’s next, B?