Dancing Butterflies

Bill Cunningham died yesterday at the age of 87. Until he was hospitalized recently after a stroke, his candid shots of people on the streets and at the social events of New York were beloved by many, and practically the only reason I open the Sunday Styles section of the New York Times.

 "He "turned fashion photography into his own branch of cultural anthropology on the streets of New York….Mr Cunningham was such a singular presence in the city that in 2009 he was designated a living landmark. And he was an easy one to spot, riding his bicycle through Midtown, where he did most of his field work:his bony-thin frame draped in his utilitarian blue French worker's jacket, khaki pants and black sneakers with his 35mm camera slung around his neck…." (see extra)

" 'When I'm photographing," Mt Cunningham once said, 'I look for the personal style with which something is worn….I'm interested in capturing a moment with animation and spirit'' "

 He lived, until 2010 in a studio above Carnegie Hall amid rows of file cabinets filled with his pictures, sleeping on a narrow cot and  sharing a shower down the hall.. He wore out 30 bicycles riding around the city chronicling the changing dress habits of New Yorkers. I will miss his pictures, the first thing I always turned to.

I spent the day trying put together Will's quilt. It turned out to be bigger than I planned, and it was not easy to shove all that heavy fabric through the sewing machine. Staring frequently out the window I noticed that there were lots of butterflies so I decided to go out and stalk them before it got too hot. In the end, before it got too hot I got too frustrated waiting for one to stop flitting around and alight somewhere.

While writing this, I happened to look out the door to see two butterflies…dancing. The one on the deck was still while the other one danced above her. They gave me time to snap off a dozen pictures before they both flew away….

Another neighbor has invited us for dinner tonight as the temperature is still hovering around 100. The poor repair guy will have to go into the attic tomorrow during the hottest part of the day to fix what we think is the fan for the air conditioning….

*New York Times, Sunday, June 26 2016