I learned from Aesthetic Realism that the way we see the people closest to us affects the way we see the whole world, and this includes the people and things we may photograph. And, so, I'm very glad to say something here about my sister Richel. Like many siblings, I think, we saw it as our job to protect each other from a cruel world and we also fought like cats and dogs. The one thing we weren't sufficiently interested in was knowing each other, and what we learned in Aesthetic Realism consultations began to change that. In the professional classes for Aesthetic Realism Consultants and Associates I now attend, taught by Chairman of Education Ellen Reiss, she has encouraged me—with some of the deepest and kindest questions—to be fair to Richel who is married to someone I consider a very good friend, Dennis Clerkin.

In one class she asked, "If you were to see Ms. Clerkin as a photographer sees a subject, how would you see her?" I replied somewhat academically: "I would see her as a person who was useful to others as a nurse (her profession for many years), who had light and dark in herself . . . "  She then asked this surprising question, "What mistake do you think you are making as a photographer now?"  I wasn't sure, and she asked, "When a photographer sees something he wants to photograph, does he have to be surprised?" "Yes", I answered, and Ms. Reiss explained: "There has to be wonder. If there isn't, the photograph will not make it. Knowingness and surprise have to be together. You sound like you have it all summed up as to Richel Clerkin. The first thing would be "Who is this person?"

Richel was a pioneer in the field of medical ethics, and in the seeing of what makes for beauty and efficiency in the specialized field of wound care. She had a good effect on the lives of many, many people, and not only as an educator and nurse. I had this in my mind when I asked Richel if I could take her portrait. With all she has been through with concerns about her health, it would have been so easy to say no, but she welcomed my suggestion. I asked her to look out the window and as she did the light streaming in lit up her face. Her expression is pleased and thoughtful, but just what she is looking at we don't know—and so there is mystery and the unknown. And while there may be some questions about the composition, I'm proud of the photograph because it stands for my ongoing education in how to have good will for another person, and see them with both exactitude and wonder.

Home