lo que queda

Phil and I went to see "What Remains," a documentary about photographer Sally Mann.  It's always a treat to be invited to observe part of someone's artistic process: her big awkward camera, the glass plates, a makeshift darkroom in the back of an SUV.  I was particularly impressed with the way she takes what is right there in front of her and makes stunning, important art out of it.  In the film, she says something to the effect that, "I never felt the need to leave home to be able to make art."  What moved me the most about this film, though, were the glimpses into her family life.  There is a scene where she is outside in the morning sun and she is cutting her husband's hair.  He has a towel wrapped around his shoulders and his eyes are closed.  She runs her fingers through his hair, and cuts it slowly and deliberately.  There is such tenderness and intimacy there between them that it just broke my heart.   Everything about her life seemed infinitely rich in a way that mine is not.

Comments

[colin]

What? Just a movie this week? I'm feeling a bit let down after last week. Kind of hungry in fact. Keep enjoying your own infinitely rich life. I'm going to find a snack.

[Janeen]

Oh, don't worry, we ate. And went to coffee. It just wasn't quite as impressive as last week.

[Phil]

We also talked a lot about eating. That sustains in a different kind of way. Plus, we had those cool Nokia mints at the Sally Mann film. Yet another corporation that thinks that tight little sugary pills will convince me to buy their phone. What a deal. Cheap-ass, shitty little mints equal a $300 cell phone. How can you beat that for optimism?

[colin]

Maybe its just to ensure that the fetid breath of the plebes won't sully the beautiful chrome on their phones. Or maybe so that as you're talking into your own phone, the sweet aroma will waft into your face and you'll lose all track of your conversation, only being able to think 'wow, I coulda had a Nokia...."