I Take Pictures of Flowers

Do we need a reason to love what is beautiful?

There is a story that a friend of mine, who is an extremely successful art photographer of beautiful women, was a forensic photographer in the Army (that part is definitely true.) So the story goes, and I’ve never confirmed it with him which is why I’m not writing his name (though I will so I can link to his amazing work), he promised himself that if he survived the horror of war, he would only take pictures of beautiful things for the rest of his life. He came home and started his business, and now it’s been many years. I’m sure there are many people who object to his work because it is anything but politically correct, but I happen to love it. I’ve been to him twice to get photographs done, and it’s a fabulous experience.

Women can certainly be beautiful but when you photograph women you get into to all sorts of debates about what we are supposed to like, how does the person being photographed feel, and are you encouraging standards of beauty by showing preference for this or that. I am not brave enough for that. Men can certainly be beautiful, take Peter Attia for example, but if I were to try to photograph them, I’d have to first get their permission, then convince their wives, girlfriends, boyfriends, mistresses, and no doubt children and pets that I wasn’t trying to steal anyone’s anything, and I certainly don’t have the energy for that.

I do love cats, especially photographs of wild cats in their natural habitats. I admire people who can do that kind of nature photography, and I used to love looking through the pages of National Geographic when I was a kid. I hear it is a little different now, and when I was little I mostly read it for the pictures.

When I consider taking pictures of large predatory cats in the wild, the dangers of snapping a shot of a human male seem fairly tame. No, I will stick with watching Big Cat Rescue videos and exchanging pictures of our house panthers and tigers with my cat friends (many of whom are accomplished married men who happen to love cats, for those of you who need to hate on cat women. I’ll get to you later.)

I love taking pictures of flowers.

I discovered this hobby entirely by accident. My grandfather, Woodrow Wilson (the photographer, not the President… there are great stories about that, but he was named after his mother’s favorite president) was a professional artist and photographer, and did most of the society photography for the big tobacco families of Winston-Salem, North Carolina. My grandmother ran his business and they did very well. I never considered myself artistic, though I loved art history and pretty much minored in it at Yale. I loved looking at pictures, reading about art and artists, and art criticism. But since I couldn’t draw much more than a stick buffalo, I never explored visual arts for myself.

My neighborhood of West Philadelphia is known for many things, but few outside the neighborhood know how much love and care the residents give to their little urban gardens. The residential streets will be bursting with lilies soon, and even the window boxes are well-groomed and loved. I started taking pictures to send to my parents and friends, but the list of people I was sending them to got larger and larger, eventually to encompass patients of the company for which I work.

Sending a flower picture can be a non-intrusive way to say, “Hi, I’m thinking of you, this made me happy and I think it will make you happy too.” Unlike a meme, it doesn’t try to tell you something you’re supposed to find edifying or amusing. It’s just there, being pretty.

Flowers are easy to photograph because they don’t move around much. Unless there’s a great wind, you can get just the angle you want. I have a rule that I never mess with my flowers: I photograph them just as they are where I find them. You don’t have to ask their permission, or wonder about if they will feel objectified or exploited. Years from now, pictures of nude flowers are unlikely to ruin either their career or mine. If it gets to the point where beautiful flowers are no longer acceptable, perhaps because they could be seen as symbols of humans enforcing our will on nature, well, if we get there, I’ll probably have been hunted down and murdered anyway. If they bloom early and I publish their pictures, am I glorifying climate change? Heaven help us.

I’ve always loved Longwood Gardens, and if you haven’t been, I recommend a trip (tell me the date and time and I’ll meet you there.) They worship the beauty of all seasons, all flowers, succulents and just about anything you can grow.

This past year I started my own garden for the first time in the little backyard plot outside the old Victorian house where I live. I’ve never had a garden before. When I owned a house with a yard, I had absolutely no time, and it was a patch of grass in so much sun with such hard soil that it would have taken a lot of work to get a garden started. Now I have a garden that has been lovingly tended over the years, but the woman who used to keep it has moved away, so it falls to me.

I can’t wait to put West Philly lilies and all sorts of flower friends outside. My kitchen is wraparound windows and looks out on the garden. I get to look at my flowers all day long while I work.

I hope you enjoy the flower pictures. We may disagree on many things, but unless you believe that everything a person does should be discounted if you don’t like one thing, I bet we can agree on flowers.

Like this one.