Copyright, Kipp Baker 2001-2008
Museums aren't always regarded in the best of terms. Some are considered stodgy, blocking the way of more modern thought or needlessly remaining conservative beyond their usefulness. Others are considered too liberal in the folly of "Modern Art," corrupting the minds of all - especially our children.
But I've always liked the museums. You visit enough of them - things tend to balance out, and you can see the creative boundlessness of humanity.
I especially like museums when they've provided a place for a photograph. Like the one here. This has special meaning to me on several levels...for starters, it was created inside the hallowed walls of a museum - the Amon Carter in Fort Worth.
Next, it began life with a camera and film no longer made. The venerable Polaroid SX-70 and Time-Zero film, are the only combo I know of that could produce the surface and palette you see here - as one physically - not electronically - manipulated.
Third, it depicts my mother (at the window) and sister (seated) in a pause - a restful interlude. What it may say to you, I have little idea - but in this day of an aging populace, its composition and shadows speak to me on the vagaries of dementia, and a caregiver helpless in simple observation...
...but that's just me.
