Martian Photos.doc

MARTIAN PHOTOS


There was no place to walk. The only option was to walk on air or
in the sea-otherwise there was no place to go forward. Sure, he could have
scrambled over the debris but then there was the huge crater to traverse.
Even a decatholon athlete would not have made it over to the other side.
Everywhere, huge metal rods dotted the urban landscape. Twisted
straight upwards into the sky, metal curlicues, long strands of pilings,
and electrical conduits abounded.
Click. Click. Another click. Not so fast-this is a medium format. Wind
the film….9 seconds; set the shutter trigger mechanism….another 7…Nothing
is moving. No rush. All the dead rats have been picked clean months ago by
the ravens.
Another click. See the exposed wall over there-the cracks in the
plaster are shaped like an agave plant. The wiring on the opposite side is
irregularly shaped sunflowers. That jambled mass of concrete columns with
assorted wiring and steel rod resembles invading silent Martians.
Another click. Here comes a squad car. Silently it cruises the block,
not once, but twice. The photographer knows what he is up to. The bubble
gum carrier stops at the shortest distance away without coming onto the
desolation. Non-threatening, wearily, the guardian of the public trust
advances. Better not to have the first words-let the man have his say.
¨Why, that's a Rolleiflex! What model? ¨
He´s taken aback. ¨Xenatar lens, 2.8. Not the best¨.
¨I've got three of them. Well, you know what I have to say¨. Warm-up
introductions are over. Police business sets in.
¨Sure officer, I'll move on.¨ He had just barely gotten the last shot
in so there's no loss in leaving now.
Two years later one of the photos is hanging in a contemporary art
space. A man saunters over, looks at the one most popular of all
photographs in the exhibition, and brushes aside the other onlookers.
¨Material evidence-that photograph's mine¨, flashes his city police
detective's ID, takes the photo off the wall and leaves with it.
Hardly noticeable in the photo is the edge of a woman's garment-a
woman callously murdered by a disgruntled lover. The photo becomes evidence
in a murder trial. The man is convicted.
The photographer feels violated. His private moment has become public
in a way unintended.
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