This is an image of Sean, the man who modeled for us a couple of weeks ago. I like the way his face, hands and the coffee cup draw the eye through the photograph.
The first image is of my friend Ron, who is a songwriter and photographer. The copy is from the lyrics of a song he wrote. The second image is a portrait of Penny, who modeled for us. I am using the image in the fourth article in the series Six Things I Learned from Three Years on the Road.
This photo, taken in New Orleans, was in sharp contrast with reality.
My friend had just lost the love of his life. Her death was unexpected.
I was there to help.
Helping him was a gingerly process, for he was deep in grief and shock.
I rolled up my sleeves and cleaned out the laundry room. I put a jar of fresh flowers on the table, made soup, baked bread and listened to his stories about the woman he lost.
We uncorked a lot of wine.
He did not want me to touch her jars of creams and lotions in the bathroom. The shelf they were on had been recently dusted, and I knew that he opened the jars to smell her.
I did not touch him, for he was untouchable in his suffering. He did not cry. It was easier for him to be angry. Every evening, I retired to my room early to give him space and to paint.
The streets were filled with color and music while his heart broke and I watched him crumble.