painting is always lingering in the back of my mind.â€ť Of her family Amy divulges only what is necessary. From her work titled â€śMy Life with Animals,â€ť we gather they are close and that she has come to use the camera as a means by which to get closer to unmentionables like tragedy, addiction, heartbreak, aging, and death. This is not new territory for photographers, of course â€“ the camera is often a buffer whether we know it or not. Still, the young lady does not flinch. The cat her mother is holding in the painting looks like a version of almost all of the cats in Amyâ€™s life. I am familiar with the one named â€śSassy,â€ť one of five who died only after having already lost her vision, poor feline. I am familiar, too, with her second cousin â€śFaithy,â€ť the young girl from the photo whose pigtails have been wrapped in red ribbons by â€śHoney,â€ť an adoring mother who â€śconstantly dresses her children in matching bows and outfits.â€ť
â€śIn ten years, where will you be?â€ť
â€śHappy, with representation, making a living off of photographyâ€¦and living in a bigger apartmentâ€¦â€ť (How do you say â€śAMENâ€ť in Polish?)
â€śAnd where will the painting be?â€ť I ask.
I think about Amy when I think about the precious and precocious. Beyond that, I know that Amy looks almost exactly like the woman in the painting, and that in a few years time it will be all hers to hang, guard, and revere.