Two Experimental Portraits of my Wife

[Rob MacKillop]

I got released from the hospital yesterday evening, which is wonderful, but with a bag full of pills, and orders to relax. I wanted to do a portrait of my poor wife, my hero, who has been stressed beyond belief recently in coping with my illness. She agreed to a 'no-make-up' shot, which I said I intended to experiment with by emulating the subdued tones of the Danish painter, Vilhelm Hammershøi, who we both admire. I completely failed in that regard! But, as usual, I wandered off down trails I hadn't explored before. We are not sure what to make of these, so don't feel you have to say something nice, but they do reveal 'somethings' I recognise, and are in a very humble way heroic. The techniques used are far less interesting to me than the humanity behind the image wall.

 

[Rob MacKillop]

BTW Susan approves of them.

 

[Beth Anthony]

the colors and pose/expression work better for me on the first of the two images. but both are lovely. i'll second her approval of these images.

 

[Gianluca Drago]

It amazes me how the real world always manages to emerge even in a virtual space, sometimes it does so forcefully by knocking down walls with a sledgehammer, other times it creeps through the invisible cracks in the wall like a delicate humoral seepage.

These are very delicate photographs, Rob, which show all your and your lady's sensitivity and which you will both cherish for years to come.

I think the reference included in the title – experimental – is appropriate, not so much in reference to the Danish painter, but as proof that one can break the barriers between virtual and real without getting hurt and without hurting anyone. Quite the contrary.

 

[Brian Moore]

but they do reveal 'somethings' I recognise, and are in a very humble way heroic. The techniques used are far less interesting to me than the humanity behind the image wall.

For me the the words "heroic" and "humanity" describe these portraits perfectly. Where would we be without the myriad acts, both small and large, of heroism and humanity of the women who support us or who raised us...?

 

[Rob MacKillop]

Thanks for your thoughtful comments, gentlemen. This has been a trying time for our family, and it’s really hard to find a way to express that in photography. The playful images from my hospital room a few days ago were just that, playful. But coming home and reflecting on the experience made me wonder if I could say something with more feeling, more humane, when I don’t really have the control I would like over the medium. But these images come close. Yes, I was the one who was ill, but Susan…I can’t complete this sentence. It’s all there in the photos.

Sorry, Beth. It’s not about preferences, colours or being ‘lovely’, but thanks nonetheless for your comment. Appreciated.

 

[Christopher Dubea]

Nice images.

She looks tired.

Take good care of her and yourself.

 

[Rob MacKillop]

Thanks, Chris.

 

[Pete Askew]

She does look tired in these, and there is a certain stoicism to them. But most of all there is a gentleness I find in both the pose and expression and in the way you have captured them. I can see why she approves (and why you are pleased with them).

 

[Rob MacKillop]

Thanks, Pete, for your sensitive interpretation.

 

[Julian Tanase]

Rob, I am only going to say what I do not see: resignation. Which speaks volumes, if you ask me.

Hope you two will have many blessed years together. Bless you both!

 

[Ivar Dahl-Larsen]

I have not seen these before. I find them very natural, she looks tired on the first one and no wonder. With a glimpse of hope and a faint smile about to emerge on the other. Nice portraits Rob. All the best to you.

 

[Rob MacKillop]

Thanks, Ivar. Tired and hope sums it up. That hope was dashed a couple of days later, when I was in an ambulance on my way back to hospital on June 9th, where I stayed until 12th November. But we are in each other's loving arms again, and I seem to be staying away from the hospital now, save for Tuesday mornings when I get ongoing treatment.

 

[Ivar Dahl-Larsen]

Thanks, Ivar. Tired and hope sums it up. That hope was dashed a couple of days later, when I was in an ambulance on my way back to hospital on June 9th, where I stayed until 12th November. But we are in each other's loving arms again, and I seem to be staying away from the hospital now, save for Tuesday mornings when I get ongoing treatment.

Well you know, situations like this shall always take a toll on the one in question and the love ones. And whether we like it or not, we are vulnerable and it shows. Wish you all the best, the three of you.