I am a prime number again. Yesterday was my 29th Birthday. I am not big on birthdays but I had a lovely day. I was due to be in college all day but our ICT lecturer was poorly so I had a free afternoon.Now no girl should have to study on her birthday so I used it wisely!
James was on a day off so he met me and a few of my course mates in a lovely pub in Wandsworth called The East Hill, where we had a yummy lunch (BLT with Sweet Potato Chips anyone?) The beer is good, and so is the atmosphere. It was fun.
After lunch James and I caught the train into town for a trip to the National Portrait Gallery. I am not a big cluture vulture. I can't tell you who my favourite artist is, or what museum does the best coffee. But occaasionaly an exhibition comes along and I think that it would be fun to see.
I love photos. I am not great at taking them but I love to do so, and to see them, feel them and study them. Annie Leibovitz is a world reknowned phtographer. Mainly she takes great pictures of famous people for magazines like Rolling Stone and Vanity Fair. Whenever I see her pictures in the press, or a magazine I am intrigued by them. They are beautiful and poignant. Some of her most famour pictures include Demi Moore pregnant in 1991 and The Queen in 2007. This exhibition is called Annie Leibovitz. A photographer's life, 1990 - 2005. What made it really special is that it is not just showcase for all her amazingly famous stuff, but interweaves her personal collection. Pictures of her parents, her siblings, her daughters and her friend and lover.
Wandering round it suddenly struck me what it is about photographs that fascinates me. It is something to do with a moment being caught in time. A moment that cannot be recreated, that will not happen again. And more than that: looking back at photos the people in them could not know what would happen to them, how thier lives would pan out, how they would play a part in history.
In a side room off the main corridor of the gallery there were two portraits hanging on the wall. Side by Side. Two men in Military Uniform. Norman Schwarzkopf and Colin Powell. Taken in 1991. Colin Powell's eyes are glossy. Was he crying? What was he feeling? Norman Schwarzkopf is proud. Chest puffed out. I am too young to remember the detail of the first gulf war but I know both these men played a part. Were they thinking about that when the camera went click? Did Colin Powell realise he would be Secretary of State. That he would see planes fly into the Twin Towers? That there would be another Gulf War?
THere are beautiful pictures of non famous peopel too. I love the one of her mother taken in her later years. She is not smiling but peers curiusly at the camera. Her age, experience, elegnace and knowledge is etched on her face. It is a beautful picture.
I took James with me to the exhibition. He likes art more than pictures. It was good to have him there to muse over my thinking. To share my thoughts and ideas. As we were leaving he pointed to one (the one on this blog post) and said
'I like that one best?'
'Why?' I asked.
'I just do,' he replied.
And that is the beauty of pictures, love, life and everything.
Sometimes you just don't need a reason.
