Uncategorized – Page 2 – Lorin Duckman Today

Lacey – Shear Envy

Everyday, I come in contact with a number of people. None of them pay me. I pay them.

I go to the dentist, the food store, the gas station, all sorts of places where I buy goods or get services. Some of the people know me and call me by name. Others call me, “sir,” a surname I despise, because it makes me feel old. I don’t deserve the respect of being called sir and I don’t have a title. I know the names of those I see regularly for personal services and always call them by name. They are professionals, maybe not the lords of their domains, but independent, trained craftspeople.

I usually don’t talk with the people I meet in food stores, restaurants or gas stations unless they have a drill in their hand, a pair of scissors or are selling lottery tickets. How can I not? The relationship is so personal. They talk and you talk. They ask if they are hurting you, which they could. They make you more attractive or more appealing. They touch you personally, your hair, your car, your teeth, things which if not maintained can make me look shitty, not be able to eat or be an unsafe driver. And, a winning lottery ticket could change my life.

It’s different than a food store where they ask paper or plastic, credit or debit, do you want the receipt.

They look at me; I look at them. My camera always at my side, I feel compelled to shoot them. Not as they work, because I cannot have my gums cleaned or my beard trimmed and hold the camera, but posed in their place of doing business. Some let me. But, it’s a challenge. They are working. They have to clean their stations. Prepare for the next person. Relax. Smoke a cigarette. Text. I get a moment. I have to find the light, a comfortable setting the shows the environment and let the do the camera its thing.

Burlington Bikes Snowed IN

So, how did these bikes get here? Why didn’t the owners retrieve them. Did they forget about them? How do they get around now?

Popcorn Jockeys at Merrill’s Theatres In Burlington

So, did you ever want to make popcorn and sell tickets at a movie theatre? How exciting! You get to see the human condition and watch movies on a big screen. Oh, the indecision at the door when no decision has been made which flick to see. The problems deciding on the size of the popcorn or whether to add salt or that liquid they call butter. And what about Googers or M&M’s? After the movies, you pick up the empty cups and who knows what from the floor and sweep out the bathrooms? You can see the movies for free. And people assume you are a critic, asking for opinions on the story and acting. The down side is that you go home at night smelling like popcorn.

Race Matters

Car Wash Heralds Springtime

So, Spring beckons. Cars encrusted with muck and mud. Bad chemicals eat away at the underbelly.

Oh, the decisions. Should I soak or spray. No smell please. Do it yourself or let the robots at it? Do I shut my engine off? Lorin Duckman dies of CO poisoning while washing his car!

Pull up to the line. Read the signs. Stop at the correct spot. Wrrrr. Splat. Hissssss. Harumph. Creak. Creak.

Protective coat.

Blower. Drive slowly. It’s like coming out of another dimension. For a few seconds, you don’t know where you are. Then, the sun shines and the car sparkles.

Street Portraits, Montreal Aug. 2013

I make portraits on the street. I approach, ask for permission and then try to pose my sitters. Some sit still. Some move. Some talk. But no one has paid me. And, I find the level of cooperation to be fleeting and uneven. Artists who draw faces receive compensation and ready compliance.

Leonard Duckman, Dead June 16, 1963

Lenny

My father died fifty years ago today, making this occasion not one of my favorite holidays. I miss him terribly; always have. Would gladly have given him some of years I have been blessed with having.

Only a man in his mid 50’s when he died, as much a victim of World War II as if he had been killed in the field, he lived ten years less than I have, never having the opportunity to lead or command as he should have. A graduate of Brooklyn Poly, U of Michigan and its law school (where he met my Mother), he was on the verge of professional success when his illness made advancement impossible. Two years in the jungles of New Guinea had taken his hair, teeth and who knows what else. Never talked about it. Earning the rank of Major, the Government gave him a bronze star, for what I don’t know. Constantly sick – colds, lumps, digestion,etc. – acute lymphocitic leukemia finally claimed him. In retrospect, he died for at least 8 years. The barbaric treatments of the day left his body scarred from x-rays, his muscles weakened from untested drugs and his lungs seared by mustard gas treatment. I spent days, weeks, months going back and forth from the hospital, caring for him with my Mother as he slipped slowly to death, without me knowing about how sick he was. In those days, people didn’t talk about the big “C”.

father's_self-1

So, they said I looked like him and acted like him. Never one to suffer fools or those who didn’t make the most of their talents, everything he did worked. Quick to anger and quicker to forgive, he had a thirst for knowing, doing, thinking and playing. What a joy walking around town with him or going to shul. He talked with many people about a diverse range of topics. I learned all the time with him. He taught me to read and to listen to jazz.

In my youth, he no longer could blow his horn, run after me or throw or catch. He taught my older brother how to do all those things. Hank excelled. Me. Just ordinary. We worked in the darkroom together, shooting a lot of photos and then printing them. Must be where I got my love for cameras and the craft of photography. Mother thought his condition became exacerbated by developers. She also did yoga into her 80’s and believed in Edgar Casey. I wonder what I’d have become if hadn’t died. A real estate lawyer who worked in a bank and lectured on titles and closings, I’d probably be rich. May not have screwed up my career, either. And he most certainly would have loved my wife, Sharon. I can hear them laughing.

Headless Chessman in City Hall Park

Hard to tell how he found his seat. Not sure if he came for a chess game. Doesn’t look like a comfortable place to snooze.