Ordinary things reveal the core of our society and our selves. Robert Frank transformed our concept of American society in the 50s by photographing diners and gas stations. Other artists have memorialized cheap motels, fast food joints in the shape of a giant hot dog, and roadside attractions such as Sudbury’s Big Nickel.
Our garages reflect who and what we are. Ostensibly intended for parking, their real purpose today seems to be storage. I’ve seen some garages that seem like a warehouse, with shelf after shelf, narrow passageways to access the rear. An acquaintance stores his antique car, someone else a boat. In this picture of my garage you can see on the back wall, boxes of sheet music for my father’s compositions, and dangling on the right, my mother’s chandeliers.
Others turn their garage into an extra room, a place to hang out. Perhaps it’s a man-cave, a place to get away, perhaps they’re saving the living room for special occasions.
A detached garage is a traditional location for a teenage son to practice drums, to have his rock band rehearsals, to smoke his first cigarette. Does it count as a garage if it doesn’t have pegboard on the wall displaying a few tools?
Let me take pictures of your garage, with permission to use them if I achieve a gallery exhibition or book publication, and I’ll provide you a large print of the best image. Come and model with your possessions, and I’ll commemorate that, too, American Gothic style, pitchfork optional.
Alternately, I’ll take your family’s portrait. While I’m at your home with the studio lights, I’ll set up in the living room or wherever you prefer to take a group picture. You’ll be glad you did it.
If you’re really allergic to lenses, you don’t HAVE to do the family picture. But you’ll still want to have your garage full of stuff immortalized on page 47 of the book I hope someday to publish. Click on the Contact link in the menu and give me a call or email!