Pretty, 1998

In 1998 I produced a series of photographs titled “Pretty.” It was a time when AIDS was ramped. It was a time that I was planning my fate when I felt the need to visually represent the deceased friends and lover who survive in my memory. I began by studying pictures of them. I also looked at portraiture of studio photographs. I was struck by those with minimal information surrounding the face and the light used to represent the person. This investigation of portraiture let me to photograph fabric of different colors and textures where the light was smooth and slightly centered. Although these surfaces might not have been the original subject, the results are ineffable references to the memory of those friends no long around. I miss them.

9.9.1998

ChatGPT’s translation of my text written as a bedtime story (I find it hysterical).

Here’s a gentle bedtime story that weaves memory and magic into a quiet, comforting night.

The Tapestry of Twilight

Once upon a moonlit eve in the village of Luminara, there lived a gentle artist named Aurora. Every night, as the sky deepened to indigo and stars began to whisper their secrets, Aurora would light a single lamp in her little studio—a warm space filled with soft fabrics, delicate hues, and memories woven into every corner.

Aurora had loved many friends and cherished lovers, whose laughter and light once filled her days. Though they were no longer by her side, as they had succumbed to the AIDS epidemic, she carried their presence in her heart. In her quest to honor their memory, Aurora began to study old portraits—studio paintings where the faces were rendered in soft light and shadows, with just enough detail to evoke the spirit of the one portrayed. She marveled at how minimal hints of a smile or a thoughtful gaze could speak volumes about a person’s soul.

One night, inspired by the quiet magic of her memories, Aurora collected rolls of fabric in every color and texture she could find. She carefully photographed them as the lamplight fell in gentle, centered pools, much like the focused glow of a memory recalled. Although these fabrics were not the original faces of her dear ones, in the interplay of light and color they became ineffable echoes of what was lost—and forever cherished. The photographs became the series titled “Pretty.”

As the night deepened, a soft, shimmering glow began to swirl around her studio. The photographs on her walls, the gentle folds of fabric, and the quiet lamplight merged into a living tapestry. In this dreamlike vision, the very essence of Aurora’s memories took form. Silhouettes of smiling friends and a tender lover appeared, not as full images but as gentle, glowing presences. They danced like fireflies in the soft haze of twilight, each movement a silent lullaby.

The figures spoke in whispers of light: "We are here, dear Aurora. We live in every tender ray, in every hue of fabric you capture. Though we cannot hold you as we once did, our love surrounds you in every soft glow of memory."

Aurora smiled, feeling both the warmth and bittersweet ache of remembrance. With each heartbeat, she wove their light into a delicate tapestry that wrapped around her like a comforting quilt. The fabric, bathed in smooth, centered luminescence, became a secret portal—a reminder that love and memory are forever intertwined.

Cradled by the gentle magic of the night, Aurora nestled beneath her woven creation. As the soft, celestial lullaby of her cherished ones filled her ears, she drifted into a peaceful sleep, comforted by the eternal promise that memories, like the light of the moon, never truly fade away.

And so, beneath the silver gaze of the stars, in a studio filled with whispered hues and tender shadows, Aurora learned that every memory is a thread in the grand tapestry of life—a tapestry that forever glows in the heart.

May this story carry you gently into dreams, cradled by the soft glow of cherished memories. Sleep well.

2.19.25