Travelling Fool

My husband calls me the “vacation hunter”.  Any excuse to get on an airplane, and I will take it. And if I am getting paid to do it? Even better!  

I recently had the opportunity to shoot a “portfolio piece”, as my client described it. I had no clear understanding of what he meant exactly when I boarded a plane to Florida with him for a quick trip to shoot.  What awaited me in the middle of a palm tree lined street (a sight for sore eyes in the beginning of February) was an amazing waterfront, Spanish Style home, courtyard in toe…. caked in extravagant, original art.  Turns out, the homeowner, is a former gallery owner. That would explain a few things. 

Over the course of the eight hours of shooting, walking from room to room, I found myself gawking at the art pieces that I had seen in books, but never up close.  This, I thought, is a perk. 

There was, once upon a time, a period of my life where I could recite and discuss artists, current and past, theory and technique. I have long since let that piece of my IQ slip and get stuck in time. I’m not bothered by it as my master’s these is far from my mind.  However, I do still get googly eyed over being in the presence of famous and extraordinary artwork.  

As I climbed the grand staircase to the second floor, my client leading the way, I heard him say, “your gonna freak when you see what’s in here!” Before I even reached the hallway, I was stopped in my tracks, a famous image in a small frame at the top of the stairs. (Andre Kertesz’s “Fork”)“I had no idea it was so small” I said, partially in shock.  “Cool, right?”  He confirmed and pulled me into the guest room. “Do you know what that is?”  He pointed.  The huge chrome print stared back at me and I was caught off guard, again, by its size, and then, “Is that what I think it is?” I asked pointing. “Yup,” he began, “A Nan Goldin…” “From the series of her friends during the 80s, during the height of the AIDS epidemic.“ I cut him off. “I remember.” (Kim in Rhinestones, Paris 1991)  I was in shock to see it so up close.  Back in my early days, I loved the momentary essence of familiar snapshot photography. And I loved Nan Goldin when I discovered her at 22.  Her loud and direct style spoke to me, as many other photojournalistic styles did then. To see something so close made the hair on my arms raise…in a good way. 

As a photographer, I wanted to do justice by the art.  Avoid major glare if it was covered by glass, maintain the original color that could be present in a painting, not allow my wide angle les to distort anything too significantly.  For me, it felt like the art was just as much on display as the house was.