Photographer Jane Tuckerman stopped by the gallery today to witness yet another crazy installation day. Our next exhibition opens in two days. Before she left she said, “Jason…go get your nails.” The way that she said it, and my assistant thought the same thing, sounded like the word ‘done‘ was going to come at the end of her sentence, as in “Jason…go get your nails done.” But no, she was just reminding me that I needed to buy some nails to finish hanging a few of the pieces in the show. It would have been funny if the latter sentence was uttered. I needed a good laugh today. Regardless, when I think of nails, I think of my wife.
There’s Anne’s hands, reflected in a closet mirror in Paris. Her gel manicure that she got a few days earlier still looked good. For those that are wondering, the color is Lincoln Park After Dark. That’s how the ladies at the nail salon know my wife, not by her name, but by her nail polish color.
This photograph is a few years old and one of my favorites. Her hands are raised in a way that looks rather religious in nature, however, not intended. When you ask your model to get into the closet and shut the door like so and then stick their hands out so that you can photograph their reflection, you have only so many seconds to direct the scene before your model, my wife, gets aggravated and the opportunity is over. Luckily on this day, her jet lag had passed.
She’s always been my best hand model, among other things.
Baudelaire wasn’t the biggest fan of photography. After its invention in the mid-1800’s, the recognized poet denounced the medium as a true art form. As documented in the book Baudelaire, Man of His Time, he was quoted as saying, that for photography:
“its real purpose…is that of being the servant to the sciences and arts.” He’s also the same individual who said,
“What is art? Prostitution.”
I stare at this photograph every day. It hangs in the entryway to my bedroom.