"The camera is an instrument that teaches people how to see without a camera." - Dorothea Lange

Sunday, November 14, 2010

richard loftis: part two

This past Tuesday, the day after Richard went to hospice, some of us were walking outside with him. I was pushing him in the wheelchair. I reminded him that he used to always respond to my question “How are you today?” with “Oh, about F-8 or so.” (It varied, of course, depending on the weather or his mood.) He said Tuesday was somewhere between F-16 and F-22.

After we’d walked a little while, he asked everyone if he could have some time to speak to me alone. At the end of our conversation, he said he wanted me to document his experience as a cancer victim with my camera. He also asked if I would help him put some thoughts down on paper.

I am honored. This is indeed a privilege. Also a big responsibility. It makes me feel good to know that he trusts me so much.

So… I’ve been making pictures at hospice this week. And until Thursday, when it became difficult for him to talk much, I was taking dictation as he told me about his life.

I discussed the project with his sister and daughters. They felt it was a fitting way for a photographer to wind down his life. Richard was never much of a writer. He never kept a journal. His journal was his photographic work. He needs help with the last chapter, because he can’t hold a camera now.

I am happy to do it.

He was a mentor to me in many ways. I always shared with him my latest work.

I showed him one of the photographs I made this week. He was able to detach himself from it and look at it objectively. His response to the portrait was: “He’s in a lot of pain.”


His family really likes the portrait, as painful and sad as it is. They said I could share it here. I will share others, as well. If you know Richard and have not seen him for a while, you will be surprised to see what a major physical change he has undergone. The cancer has reduced him to less than half of his healthy body weight.

I think this is very brave of him. I agree with his family that it makes a lot of sense. I think, in a way, Richard is giving me one last gift, one that is tough to open but that will teach me so much.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Gloria, I hate this image of Dick for the way he is....But yet I understand it as to how he feels and his condition. Please continue......
I spent a few hours with Dick on Sunday AM into the early afternoon. Dick was resting with calm slow breathing. Watching, I reflected back on our multiple photo trips togeather to Oshkosh Wisconsin EAA flyins, Blakesburg Iowa EAA flyins, and points west through out the years since 1983.
Learning very early on of Dick's independence we drove separate vehicles. He in Moby an I in my red Chevy van. We both had enough equipment to set up 2 full blown location studios and enough energy and excitement for 2 weeks on the road.
I recall one event where he had spotted 3 combines harvesting a crop on a late fall trip. He saw the dust cloud miles away and zoned in on the direction towards the dust. Dick was hell bent to "get the shot". I had a tough time keeping up to his speed. He arrived, set up his 8x10 an shot 2 sheets before I parked. Imagine 3 machines abreast and staggered by 50 foot from behind each other. Dust so thick that it blotted out the sun with the wind at our back blowing away from us. Dick stood his ground as the machines lumbered towards us. The green John Deere combines grew ever larger and larger within 10 feet of us as if he were playing chicken Dick suddenly pulled up tripod and with his particular laugh and unique giggle he said he "had the shot".
We have had many conversations over prints about his art, his thoughts of mechanics of a particular aircraft, internal combustion engine, lines of a biplane, reflections within a polished prop, light play across the metal skin of an aircraft. I have learned much from you Richard. Thank you for allowing me to tag along Dick......Larry Andrew 11/2010