personal – Page 20 – Lorin Duckman Today

Cantor Efraim Sapir, Dead at 69

So, at his funeral service, which I didn’t attend because Sharon and I were out of town and didn’t know about it, the presiding Rabbi said God didn’t take Cantor Sapir, he took himself.

Why? I don’t know. I wish I knew before he did it. Many wish they did, too. Could we have helped him? Who knows? Everyone must make their own decision when to live and when to die. Some may need to be told how much they are loved.

I didn’t know him well or for so long. We were the same age, almost. I envisioned growing old with him, learning more about all the things he knew: music, humor, talmud and the meaning of life. I don’t have many friends; he could have been one.

Cantor’s voices connect prayers with God. Efrain loved to sing in Temple, using melodies to rid the congregants of self-consciousness, elevating their thoughts and minds to holy places. He’d pause between some phrases to look out into the audience, listening for proof he had connected, him to them and them to the angels. He once told me that he had observed me banging my prayer book on a pew during a prayer and that I had used an alternative beat. I sit in the last row; how observant.

We did a photo shoot in my studio, a formal shot for the hallway and the Temple Anshei Shalom bulletin. It took two hours. He was dressed perfectly, hair groomed, suit/shirt/tie selected for the occasion. We exchanged stories, listened to cantorial music and played with the lights. During one song by a noted Cantor, he explained the guy was just singing nonsense words, because the music was so beautiful and he wanted to sing along. I told him, after the shoot, how handsome he was and what a joy it was to photograph him. He said he never saw himself as being so good looking and that my images made him very happy.

The shot of him holding the Torah after the reading was the last shot of him. Taken two weeks before his death at Morning Minyan, it is not my usual kind of photograph. He isn’t looking at the camera and really doesn’t know or care I am in front of him. I usually go for the head, but I was drawn to his hands and the words on the Torah cover. You can see the joy in his heart, his love of Torah and feelings for humanity.

The Photo Gods helped me shoot this image. I wish God had helped me with fix his self image. He was a beautiful man, a significant man. My life will be less without him. You see, sometimes it isn’t how long you know someone but how well.

Salisbury, VT – Forgotten Lives

So, I used to live in Salsibury, VT. Still have two friends who called themselves, “The Lake People.” They lived on Lake Dunmore, just up the road from Keewadin Dunmore, a camp for the privileged. People weren’t so friendly in Salisbury. Not a lot of Jews. A smelly egg place. Some antique stores. And the put in the power lines that drove out the wildlife, ruining my view.

I loved our house. Sharon hated it. Always cold. Bugs. Mice. Fear it would slide off the side of the rock.

We had turkeys and deer in the front yard. Hoards of mosquitos. Snow drifts that cost a fortune to plow. Wasps. Trees felled by lightning. Maple trees which someone tapped, paying us off in syrup of all grades. Our lives there were complicated.

When the cost of upkeep became too great and the ability to earn a living disappeared for many, people just left. We managed to sell our place. The new owner defaulted.

Moran Building and Hilla Becher

So, Hilla Becher died at 81. She was too young. Another photographer who should have lasted longer.

What she and her husband brought to the party now seems banal and commonplace. But before them, people didn’t give the industrial plant any notice. We have all seen big building and smokestacks. Water towers in certain places are breeding grounds for microbial diseases. They not only saw the beauty in factories, silos and storage, they recognized them as art. Then they arranged them on posters, deemphasizing their importance, for a second, while heightening your interest in seeing what they saw. No one had done it like this before. And all our attempts are lame.

When I lived in Burlington VT, a town where the people were colder than the temperature, I wanted to shoot the Moran Building, a dilapidated structure on Lake Champlain. They had their people, their artists, their crew. Me. I just lived nearby, visiting everyday. Angry at the damage the plant did to the Lake and wondering if the next incarnation would make it healthier, I longed to get inside with my camera. One day I did. Just a short visit, enough to snap and show what I would do if given more opportunity.

The two recent UVM graduates, whatever Gov’t agency gave the money for coming up with a development plan and the fund raisers didn’t recognize my desire to contribute my work or my ability. They got people to paint images on the wall and make paintings. The architects sent me one message and probably went back to their photographer. I never heard from the Mayor or whomever controlled the art. One person told me I was on the team, though I didn’t get a jersey or a cup.

Never made it onto their list. Not a member of the inner circle of Burlington Artists. Didn’t work for the Free Press or 7 Days. Not a donator to BCA. Not sure they let people with attitude inside. They be happy with the same-old, same-old. So, we left.

The Bechers. They live within me, too. Taught me how to see, better.

L’Shana Tova and a Happy New Year 5775

So, it’s Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. No, not the beginning of the calendar year celebration you think of, but a time for spiritual rejuvenation. I can even pray for myself, something I usually don’t do and ask God to put me in the book of life. God did this for me last year obviously, or I would not have survived the recent removal of my gall bladder. May all of you fare as well. You are in my prayers.

So, we will eat gefilte fish and chicken. Have some chopped liver. Light the candles. And remember lost friends and family. We are pretty much alone, down here in FL. Most of our family has either died or intermarried. We carry on our traditions, preserving the memories of all those who came before, especially the ones who were needlessly and senseless killed just because they were Jewish.

21 Seconds to Pee

All mammals have the same capacity to pee. How about that? And the average pee is 21 seconds. Just cannot get this through my head. Me and a Kodiak bear take the same time to pee. Wow.

Self-Portrait in a Mirror

So, you think it’s out of the ordinary for artists to make images of themselves in a mirror. Painters stared at themselves for hours in the mirror and produced one image. A photographer, spur of the moment, or maybe planned, can do it in 1/200 of a second. Some of the greats have done it, taken a self-portrait in a mirror. I sometime wonder if they were bored or didn’t have a model. You just cannot do it without the mirror and the camera, making it not that all spontaneous. Me, I like to do it in public bathrooms, bathrooms in museums, airports, supermarkets, movie theaters, restaurants. Takes some courage, because I have to wait for the place to clear out to eliminate a fellow pee person’s presence. Don’t want to bring the morals squad. And then, I gotta hurry. But, do I put the camera to my eye or chest? Do I want to see my face or just the act of shooting? One day, I will be more creative. One day, I will figure this out.

Moving the Boxes

Believe it or not, the garbage collection here is pretty picky. Need to reduce cardboard to 3×3 size and they don’t take blank newsprint. We had to take it, ourselves, to the recycling plant. Not a bid deal, this time. It’s right around the corner from where we live. In FL, around the corner is 15 minutes.

FL takes recycling seriously. State of the art facilities. Recycling isn’t mandatory, a loophole for people who don’t like regulations. Talked to one the other day, a neighbor. He said that he didn’t recycle carefully: “it doesn’t work because so many people don’t do it.”

No plastic bags.

Now that we have unpacked most of our boxes, we can get into a routine, again.

Lorin Duckman Channels August Sander

So, I wonder, where my eye comes from. I know I have the Jewish photography gene. I have done the street, the office, tradesmen. I have shot portraits in the studio and on location. My subjects don’t act out a lot. The look calm and serene, alive, but not active. Few important people let me shoot them. And I have never worked for a paper. I am not Weegee, Arnold Newman or Diane Arbus. No fashion, so I am not Avadon. And while I love Joel Myerwitz, who also influences me, he didn’t shoot in the studio or use lights. Winograd and Gilden are kooks. Annie’s out of my league. Who? Who?

August Sander. Documented a community. Shot portraits. Shot same people I shoot. Lots of straight on. Used props. Posed. No surprises. Always gave the subjects a dignified look. In the Artsy bio, it says, he “lived behind his lens.” His prints are thick and detailed. Not a lot of background.

Shot this in Burlington, just before we moved. Local service station – McCaffrey’s. Important to the community. Everyone knew them, trusted them and relied on them. Would have shot the deli next door at Wagi’s, but the people wouldn’t let me. Hard to replace people and service like this when you move.

Lets hope I have the time to shoot enough with Sander looking over my shoulder and that the lens keeps me alive like it did him.

Old Fogey Tools

Someday, you may need this magnifying glass to read the small print in the drugstore. Do they still call these places drug stores? It’s a “FOP” tool. To use it, you got to be able to get to the store, push the cart and find what you are looking for. Aging requires courage.

Not Broke or Broke Down, Yet

So, the pills and the therapy period of my life has begun. Had to transfer med, pill and dental plans. Many calls. Medicare. Blue Cross/Blue Shield. At least I got them. Prescriptions can cost a lot.

New doctors. New dentists. Don’t know yet how healthy I am. Aches and pains come with being old. Blood. Colonoscopy. Dental surgery.

So, the doctor sent me for physical therapy for the neck and arm problems. Not turning my head as far as I once could. You will see; happens to all of us. But, the PT place was so depressing. People in wheelchairs who couldn’t sit up. People who couldn’t walk. Soon, it could be me. I will need courage to age.

Had to satisfy the Gov’t I am just not doing this to obtain pain killers. Filled out forms, some of which were not focused enough for my background or present physical condition. I’d rather be in pain than go there. Not going back, yet.

All I want to do is die broke. And, if my money runs out, before I die and I am still able to work, I can always bag.