Originally Posted Sunday, December 23, 2012
The dress is from the 19th century. The girl is from the 21st. Mostly, anyway. It was a dress brought by another model, a feminist painter/college student/former high school wrestler. It was her great-grandmother's. We shot in it and then made some other pictures, and then we went to dinner. We came back to the studio to make certain she had everything. She left without this, and surprisingly, I haven't heard from her. She will be mad if she sees this, maybe. He-he-he. I think it is one of the loveliest pictures I've ever made. Girls in Gowns. I have that series, you know.
My little downtown area is bustling with people. I asked a shop owner I know how business was and she shook her hand back and forth as if to say "comme ci, comme ca." "There are a lot of people on the Boulevard," I responded. "The restaurants are doing well," she said without enthusiasm. I guess it is true.
My mother emailed me late last night that she had gotten home from her voyage. Now I must think about making her a Christmas. Hmm. I don't want to buy presents. She doesn't need anything, and her desires are not at all grand. I have given her little charms that I thought so sweet and desirable in the past. I never saw them again, much like the annual hideous sweater she buys me. This is the stress of Christmas.
I will try to get out today. It will be an important step. Step One. I have become a working shut-in. I travel lines that do not vary. I no longer wander. I will see if I can begin to wander once more.
But then again, there is so much that needs to be done.
My little downtown area is bustling with people. I asked a shop owner I know how business was and she shook her hand back and forth as if to say "comme ci, comme ca." "There are a lot of people on the Boulevard," I responded. "The restaurants are doing well," she said without enthusiasm. I guess it is true.
My mother emailed me late last night that she had gotten home from her voyage. Now I must think about making her a Christmas. Hmm. I don't want to buy presents. She doesn't need anything, and her desires are not at all grand. I have given her little charms that I thought so sweet and desirable in the past. I never saw them again, much like the annual hideous sweater she buys me. This is the stress of Christmas.
I will try to get out today. It will be an important step. Step One. I have become a working shut-in. I travel lines that do not vary. I no longer wander. I will see if I can begin to wander once more.
But then again, there is so much that needs to be done.
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