A few weeks ago, I walked into an assisted living community and was greeted with a very pleasant show of some of the residents' artwork. I commented to one resident who joins me regularly that I did not know she painted. She replied with some excitement that she has been taking a weekly class. Then, for some reason, I mentioned that I had begun to photograph flowers with my i phone. She asked to see them, and since I had my phone (also known as my camera and portfolio case) with me, I showed her a few of the recent ones. She flatly replied, "Well, they are nice, but I have a friend who paints flowers. She tells me that black and white is the purest medium." The comment left me wondering whether being a minister or being an artist requires the greatest sense of humor.
However, I have for awhile been thinking about Imogen Cunningham and her black and white photography. I remember reading that once she was asked why she was photographing so many flowers. She replied it was because her children were young and she could not really go anywhere much beyond her own garden. I don't have children, but our travel coffers are pretty bare. Fortunately, walking the local neighborhoods the past few months has proven to be quite the adventure.
This morning I walked past some boxes marked, "free." I rummaged a bit, and was delighted to spot Imogen Cunningham's name on a book. The book is entitled, After Ninety. Cunningham began this compilation of black and white photographs when she was 92. They are beautiful photographs of elders: people who had lived their lives as teachers, nuns, artists, and more. Each portrait has a simple inscription such as the one that accompanies an elder farmer standing nobly in a cornfield: "When I delivered his prints he gave me cress and some lettuce. Then I guess he decided that wasn't enough, and came out with a tray of raspberries."
I have often thought that if I could get past HIPPA privacy regulations, I would love to photograph some of the elders I have come to know, and these photographs would probably be done in black and white. I recognize some of the need for privacy, but truthfully, I think elders, like flowers and bees, and probably you and I are more in need of being known than not. I am not sure how else we can find and celebrate our common ground.
Today, I return to the gloriously showy flower. I am grateful for this love.