Sevencolors

Today my dear friend and I saw an exhibit of Richard Avedon's famous portrait show about the American West, and I was struck by the immediacy that large-format film allows -- photos blown up to be larger than life, the crispness of every frayed flannel pocket, scratched leather belt, and weathered cheek so real. Ranch hands, oil field workers, rural kids all looked older than they were, and stared at the camera so sincerely. Avedon's big white paper sheet hanging from a frame under a tree outside a diner somewhere in Montana as he tells the waitress to hold still, his huge camera taking its time exposing an 8x10 sheet of film, later he holds his breath as the test prints come back from his assistants in the lab, then he drives back to the diner to show the waitress, sensing her pride as she looks at her own serious expression and sees how clean and honest his photographs are, and even if she has wrinkles around her eyes, this is how she truly looks, and she doesn't mind that this man plans to show her image to people all over the country.

Afterwards we walked outside the museum, and the effect was slow motion up close focus; I found myself craning to see the expressions in everyone's eyes as they passed.

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