Interregnum

Although I promised last week to further explain my small momentous epiphany in the Museum of Modern Art, which only transformed my life as I now know it, I realized I’m not quite ready to put this all together. I need a break of sorts, so… Beside a vacation, which I’ve been on for a week, I thought I would take a small break from life’s little questions and get down to the basics: A man’s strong attraction to a woman.

Here she is: Annika on her bicycle. The German, exquisite, 5’11” beauty, with long blonde hair. Look at her. Don’t you agree, if God had created a 10, Annika was at least a 10-and-a-half, maybe even an 11. She was perfect in every way: very beautiful, long legs, voluptuous, exquisite face, etc. Ok, so what’s the problem? Well here’s the inside scoop.

It starts in the Fall of 1993. I was doing a shoot at an estate in Long Island, and we had cast two girls for it. The first was the miraculous Annika, whom you see above, and the second was a girl named Claudia, who was from Brazil. The shoot was for three days, and after the first day of shooting, I approached the Art Director and asked her if we could not use Annika for the next two days.

You see, Annika, this miracle of life, this hedonistic creature, whom I originally lusted over, turned out to be quite a bitch. She was uncooperative, mean-spirited, and to say the least, not very nice. On the other hand, the more normal (down to earth, reality check) Claudia, was funny, vivacious, attractive, and extremely happy to please.

I thought why not just use Claudia for the remainder of the shoot? I was informed by the Art Director that this might have been fine, but we had contracted both girls, and were obliged to use them both.

So for the entire shoot, I shot both girls, convinced that Claudia would triumph. Her vivaciousness, her laughter, would in the end persevere. I was convinced that Annika’s inner self would be revealed and reviled by all. I was sure that I could show through her beauty, and reveal her true essence. All through the shoot, Annika and I barely talked, (although the fact that she barely spoke English could not have been the problem).

Throughout all these months of writing about my tales and insights into the human psyche, I have told you how the camera never lies, that one’s true essence can be revealed. Well, on these three days in the Fall of ’93, truth took a holiday. When the film was developed, and contacts made, it was almost impossible to find a bad picture of Annika. This woman, who did not deserve the grace of God, looked more beautiful in every frame. Claudia, whom I adored, looked attractive and nice, but never spectacular.

In this case, I was wrong. Beauty triumphed over truth. How is it possible that no matter how hard I had tried, I could not take a bad picture of the girl I loathed? And the girl I thought great, I could not picture her as such. What happened to the soul being revealed, and beauty to be found in the eyes of the beholder?

Could it be that sometimes lust and envy are simply too strong for pictures?

PS: It’s now Tuesday morning, and the amnesia that was overwhelming me yesterday has recessed, and thanks to faithful readers, I realized I am repeating myself. I knew there was something about this story that seemed familiar. Well, it turns out I wrote the same story in August 2009. For those of you who wish to compare notes, please feel free to. I am sorry, and promise not to repeat myself too often. Please forgive those of us who are maturing faster than a speeding bullet.