OK, it’s time for another common question I get. Not surprisingly, many people want to know, “How did you become a photographer?” I tend to answer along one of two lines, either, “I have always been a photographer,” or, “Well, it was a long and winding road.” I’ll speak bit to all of that.

I remember being a young child. As a marked youngest in the early 70s, there was not a lot of photos taken of me. But, do remember 2 adults who were avid amateur photographers asking to take my picture. One was a neighborhood friend. I think he as doing a class, and he asked to take a photo of me with my favorite holiday present. I can remember feeling so special and so honored to stand there with my fashion doll as he posed me and that dolly, like a classic portrait photographer. He was taking my photo. He was interested in me. My aunt also did a portrait of me when I was quite young. I remember the lift it gave a glum young me to be the subject of a more casual, photo journalistic photo. When I saw the image, the fact that it was in black and white seemed very sophisticated, indeed. Photo bliss.

My experience of photography as an act of love, of honor, and indicator of value was set at a very young age. My dad got his Olympus OM-1 somewhere back there, and it was generally produced for occasions that could be seen as special or important: vacations, holidays, special events. In those moments where I was included in a picture, I felt seen. To be attended by the camera’s gaze was a much needed dose of validation. With all this meaning already in place, I embraced photos, valued them acutely, and even found them a little bit magical. It’s not surprising that the role of photographer was innately attractive to me, as well.

When my older sister got a camera for Christmas one year and I did not, I was overwhelmed with envy. I think I was five or six. It would be a couple more years before I, too, received a Kodak Instamatic camera for Christmas. Hers had a blue color block on the front. When it came time for mine, they had moved on to a red strip and upgraded from flash cubes to flip flash. I was styling.

From then on, my greatest recurring joy was to get my pictures back from being developed, along with new film and flash. For as long as I can remember, most of my allowance went into things photographic. I entered my terrible snaps in the summer camp competitions. When I was ten, I got a shot of a contentious moment at a friendly regatta and enjoyed the hubbub around the crews wanting that photo evidence. Being behind the camera was even more validating than being in front of it. I pointed my camera at what I thought mattered, and when people saw the results, they clearly agreed. Now, that was a refreshing experience. That never gets old.

I was asked the why-are-you-a-photographer question by some would be bohemian type at a studio party. When I answered that it was because I felt that every frame was an act of love, he rolled his jaded eyes and all but shouted, “Oh come on!” For me, all my roles as photographer are best done, and most happily done, with love, from those in which I serve as witness to those in which I act as creator.

When I met up with my riding camp mentor many years later, she asked what I was doing. “I’m a photographer.” “You always were the girl with the camera.” Well, how I got from the one on to the other will be another post.

How I Got the Shot

The beginning of the mermaid series is mentioned in my artist statement for the project. I was on a yahoo group for local theater. As both a stage photographer and an actress, the best way, once upon a time (not even that long ago), the best way to stay abreast of community happenings was a Yahoo Group.

Theatre Vertigo did a piece called Freakshow. It was about and old time side show. An exploration of otherness, it featured characters like the armless/legless woman, the dog faced girl, and the human salamander. As the end of their run neared, they posted that they’d be striking out of the theater in which they were performing and would need to get rid of the tank for the salamander man, since they had no ability to store it. Would anyone in the community like it?

I thought about it, ” Well, it does fit my aesthetic… I don’t know what I’d do with it, but I have nothing but room. Why not?” I was disappointed to hear I was the second reply and had missed out. That Sunday, I got a called from a frazzled company member: “The person who was first for the tank hasn’t showed up. Can you come and get it now?” The tank weighed a lot and was 3’x3’x6’. But, my very kind neighbor let me his slightly dodgy pickup to go get it. The men of the company carried it out and loaded onto the truck bed. The only question was, how was I going to deal with it when I got home. Lumber, steel, and half in thick glass… it was a beast. So, it sat in the truck in my driveway for a couple of days while I tried to raise the man power to move it.

In that time I heard from my friend Tanya Burka. She is a professional aerialist and contortionist. Her performances are so beautiful that I almost always shed tears to witness them, even as I worked behind the camera to get images for her company, Portland’s Pendulum Aerial Arts. She rang to say that she was going to be back in town. “I owe you some modeling for those images you let me use. Do you have anything in mind?” So, now I had a tank, and a tall and graceful performing artist who was nothing but up for physically taxing work. Well, OK. I figured it was time to make a mermaid tail.

But, the tank was still on my friend’s truck and now I needed it to be in my garage, in short order. Another fantastic neighbor was a wood sculptor and builder. He offered to build me a cradle for the tank, which would allow me to work without lying on my belly while I shot this crazy image. As he quickly put it together, he asked what I was up to. I told him about the mermaid photograph I was planning, and my fabulous model friend. “I’ll get in the tank with the beautiful mermaid.”

BAM. In that moment, my vision moved from image to story. Far back through classical mermaid lore, man + mermaid = dead man. I saw the mermaid in the tank, the carnival barker exhibiting her and wanting her to love him, to embrace him, all while he held her prisoner. She would bide her time. She would pretend. He would drown. Now I needed carnival barker attire along with a mermaid tail.

And, I needed to get the tank off the truck and onto the cradle. With a visit from out of town acquaintances, we secured the fourth set of strong arms needed to do that. I was so grateful, even while I felt slightly like a bad hostess. Then again, who doesn’t want to be involved in a magical creative mermaid project?

Next up was the thrift store. I hunted for something that would make an interestingly stylized mermaid tail. I was afraid I’d strike out, but then I found the ugliest aqua blue, nylon, crocheted tablecloth. It was ghastly, but it had a fishy texture. I sat pondering it. As another shopped passed by, I stretched it across my thigh: “What do you think: mermaid?” She nodded her assent. I took it home and zipped it into a tail shape with an opening for feet so the models could take tiny steps. The extra fabric trailed over feet and toes. I added a pair of silver leggings for smoothness, added fishiness, and modesty. A bunch of cheap fake pearls and a silk scarf as a bandeau, and my mermaid costume was ready. Of course the mermaid needed trailing tresses. I had just the wig: it was beautiful auburn curls that were not quite believable above the waterline, but would float magically underwater.

I also scored, at the last minute, the glorious black and yellow striped taffeta jacket for the barker. The rest of his attire was easy. Tanya offered to do her makeup and bring some Wet Set for it. Project Mermaid was go.

I’ll talk about all the tech challenges next time. Lighting. Safety. Syphons. It was an ongoing process through the entire project. I tried to improve the set up a bit more for every shoot, but I think every shoot had something go wrong. Radio triggers got doused with water and died. Paint melted and floated in miniscule droplets throughout the tank. Lips turned blue. Water clouded up quickly. Ill behaved long hair made models more Cousin It than languid beauty. These are some of the things that made me refer to this project as, “either the best worst idea I have ever had, or the worst best idea”.

All the mermaid images are available as 20″ x 40″ metallic canvas prints. Please contact me if you are interested in those or any of my other images.