Hey Reader,
Who doesn’t sing along with Diana Ross harmonizing, “Reflections of, the way life used to be. Reflections of, the love you took from me…” every time you hear it? Some of us may not remember why we went into the kitchen, but we can recall every lyric in that funky baseline, littered with psychedelic motifs. While that melody serves up a soothing groove, the lyrics recount the anguish of heartbreak. Rhythmic evidence that life’s flow often dangles between light and dark. More on that in a future post.
As promised, today I’m exploring my photograph “Reflections of a Time Past Now”. Intentionally titled contrapuntally, I shot this photo of a rural Tennessee antique store window, because it gave off a Rockwellian vibe of what American was thought to be in the heydays of Mid-Century Modern 1950s. The faux gold trash basket, the typewriter (that commanded its space), embroidered pillow and Saturday Evening Post magazines telegraphed a stringent tranquility. However, the midday reflection of a field and forest across the two-lane black top from it loudly dominated my intended still life. With the same urgency of the apple tree in Oz that slapped Dorothy’s hand for picking its fruit, these trees silently telegraphed, “Take a picture of us. We been here way longer than the stuff in that window; and will be here long after it’s gone.” Determined to capture my homage to Rockwell, I adjusted the lens settings of my Nikon D-80, to no avail. Then I remembered that the reason I drove out to the country was to shoot pictures for a look book of my film featuring an aspiring Country musician conflicted about living so far away from Nashville’s music scene. This revelation gifted me with a new intention and perspective: to create an image wherein the reflections of the trees ‘standing off against’ the storefront display illustrate the contrast between the timelessness of nature and remnants of humanity littered through time. While the feeling tone of the photo is decorative, the contents of its composition conflict. Much like what Ms. Ross was singing about.
I chose “Reflections of a Time Past Now” for the imaginary album cover of fictitious jazz crooner, Erroll Fontaine’s album, “Love’s Last Gasp”, because, as a protege of legends like Sinatra, Tony Bennett & Nat King Cole, Fontaine reigned in a bygone era when chivalry and excellent were everything, and talent was mandatory. At 86, this could be his last album. Having battled poor health, widowhood and several bankruptcies, he now earns just enough in high-roller tips singing at a small dive club off The Strip to keep him in his small Vegas studio apartment. While sharing stories between sets of his heyday in Vegas, hitting on Etta and soaking up wisdom from Sammy, he’s approached by a local film student, who wants to do a short documentary on him for his thesis project. Until that moment, Erroll believed that any remaining ship destined to come in for him had sank. Purging memories for interviews, he decides to give his love of performing one last gasp, by recording a soundtrack for the film. Sadly, gentrified rents forced the club to swap him out for a DJ with a turntable, to attract a more affluent patronage. When reels of Fontaine, living in his ’78 Caddy Brougham in a vacant drugstore parking log surface on the internet, a new demand for his talents emerge. The film’s final shot captures Erroll’s fragile image reflected from a rusty blue Deco mirror in an antique store, surrounded by artifacts that compliment his eloquence. A location chosen by the director for aesthetics. Decades of chain smoking Pall Malls have caught up with him; but Fontaine’s ardent baritone transcends time, as he gasps to finish the last stanza of his recently penned ballad.
I sincerely appreciate you taking 6 minutes of your time to read my latest “Imaginary Band…” story. Let me know how you’re feeling about it. (‘Audio editions’ are coming soon).
Since we’re closing in on Halloween, my next missive explores an 'Invasion’ of a different kind; and pays homage to one of my greatest inspirations. We are about 3 weeks away from the first incarnation of “Imaginary Bands & Their Fake Ass Songs”. Thank you for all your support and encouragement.
Ciao for now!
Carolyn
