They Had Faces Now

No. You aren't looking at Lauren Bacall. Though she should be Lauren Bacall. Or Ann Sheridan. Or Ava Gardner. Eleanor Parker? Oh, just pick one. Just pick one of those great divas from the bygone era of the silver screen and Lindsey would fit in.

Lindsey is a friend of mine who is an actress with a beauty that matches her interests: the past. Her favourite roles to play seem to be those created for women from a different time. Ruth Sherwood. Phyllis Rogers Stone. Tracy Lord. These are the types of women Lindsey understands and portrays well onstage (so well that she won a region acting award for playing Fraulein Kost in Cabaret).

Don't get me wrong. Lindsey is a perfectly lovely contemporary beauty. There is, though, something about her look that simply harkens back to the 40s and the 50s a little more than lending itself to the 2000s.

So we decided to get together and have some fun!

And what's more fun than a period photo shoot where Jennifer Houston makes a girl look like she stepped out of a Kaufman and Hart play and Stephen Mosher (that's me) makes her look like she has been lit by George Hurrell?

I'm no George Hurrell.

I'm not even Len Prince.

I'm just me and I have limited resources. A couple of lights. A couple of backdrops. A couple of cameras (one real and one digital). And a head filled with ideas.

So in this, one of my favourite photo shoots ever, we gathered in my home (where I work) and played dress up for a few hours. When we were done there, we borrowed my husband, our friend's dog, Rhoda, and our other friend's uber glamours apartment and went on location.


The resulting photos are photos of which I am extremely proud. I'm proud that after a self-imposed retirement of 8 years, I seem to still be able to do what I spent my entire adult life learning.

I'm proud that Jennifer is such an artist with a makeup and a hair brush.

I'm proud that Lindsey is such an easy model with whom to work.

I'm proud that I have friends who will join me in the important adventure of making art.

I'm proud that my grandmother taught me about Hollywood glamour by showing me the drawings she did when she worked for Edith Head at Paramount Studios and by showing me the photos of Garbo and Dietrich that taught me how Hurrell lit people

I'm proud that my mother gave me a camera at the age of 16 and that I taught myself everything I know about making pictures.

I'm proud that I've learned a little about digital photography and computer editing of digital photos.

I'm proud that I am still able to grown

I'm proud that people still want to work with me.

I'm proud to have friends who bring their artistic eye to the table when we work together, yet who are not afraid to take direction and who are willing to play.

I'm proud to have an adventurous husband who is a go-to guy who will be there when he is needed.

I'm proud of a lot of things in this life; and I know they say that pride is a sin - but I think that is when the pride is misplaced. I don't think it is a sin to do something and have the self-confidence to say "I made this" -- particularly when it is something you made with love and with people you love.

There was a moment during this shoot when everything was perfect...

We were in Brady's living room. Lindsey was on the sofa, Rhoda was beside her. Rhoda's owner, Jason, was off left, out of frame, keeping her from jumping off the lounge and running away.

Jennifer was behind me to my right, watching Lindsey to make sure her hair and makeup were right. Pat was behind me, to my left, watching ( as he has done a million times before). Brady was somewhere behind me, for once behind my camera and not in front of it, moving around to as to take in every moment.

Rhoda, though in place, was actually looking off to the left, at Jason. We needed her to look at the camera but simply saying "Rhoda" doesn't do the trick. Pat said "Stephen, squeal."

I know how to squeeze my voicebox so that it emits a high pitched squeak.

So I did.

Rhoda turned her head and cocked it to one side, looking right in the camera.

Click.


Perfect.


I knew it would be one of my favourite photos ever.

There I was...making art with my family.

It was a moment I could live in forever.