The following excerpt is from that great class discussion I quoted from earlier, in which Ellen Reiss, the Chairman of Aesthetic Realism, discussed an exhibition catalogue of my work: Referring to "Living Room, Hoboken", she asked: "Do you think in some way this is a photograph having to do with absence?"

Len Bernstein:  Yes. The woman who lived there for 40 years didn't want me to photograph her, but she said, "Please photograph my apartment." So I thought, "How could I show her even though she's not in the photograph?"

Ellen Reiss:  There is something about the glow on these inanimate things that have to do with a person....And that chair in the middle, there's no one on it. So, do you think this matter of a person as present and absent is a big matter for people?

Len Bernstein:  Oh, yes.

Ellen Reiss:  There is a way that the light is falling on the seats, and you almost feel the impression of the person on them. I think it's a pretty intense study in nothing and something, of humanity honored and humanity not seen. The way we want to revere and the way we can want to make something nonexistent seem to be one in this photograph.
 
I've thought a lot about this discussion, and its meaning. When someone we know is no longer with us—it may be a temporary or a permanent absence—they can still be present in our thoughts in a pretty intense way.  We can also make someone nonexistent simply by not thinking about them and what they deserve. And this often happens, as it did with me, with the persons we seem to revere the most, like family and loved ones.