Things got sort of hectic this past week when I was interviewed as the creator of Aaron 1, the Bar Mitzvah boy of 1939. On Wednesday, we were the subject of a photo session that put us both through our paces and a lot of pictures were taken. In the middle of this, my modem ceased to work and I could not access the internet. Therefore, these essays were interrupted and I’m not sure what days are left out. I had to have an overnight delivery of a new modem/router which took me many hours to install myself and then gave it up because of problems and called in the experts – these were in the Philippines. Between two different technicians we also got Carol’s laptop up on the net so the exercise was not a failure except for the time spent on the phone while sitting in front of the computer.
The photo session was a revelation. Like the interview I had preconceived notions of how I thought it would work out and tried to think through the maximum coverage of puppetry in my office where Aaron 1 stands. I have a pencil portrait from a photograph of my family when I wore short pants. Then, next to it was Aaron 1 in a bow tie and on the wall behind him there was a pencil sketch from a photo at John Jay College in NYC with me and my guitar singing labor songs for a class of a friend of mine. Then, what do you do with me – Aaron 2?
Well I put on a shirt and dark trousers like Aaron 1 and had a bow tie also. The photographer posed us all over the living room so that, while not getting in the shots of my earlier selves, she managed to get in a lot of Carol’s needle point work on the walls in that room.
I didn’t realize how much equipment it took to catch me in action moving Aaron 1 around by walking him, sitting him on my lap and very few of him just being held up by the support I had built. We moved furniture and ourselves to please this lady.
It is curious how my mind works. I tried it with the reporter also. I had my mind fixed on how I should look and how I should act and what pieces of background should I try to introduce so that both the reporter and the photographer would get a better handle on the who I am thing that I believe myself to be and see me as I would wish others see me. It is sort of delusional at my age to think how I look is important while this marionette of myself is a pretty interesting guy. He is made of a lot of different materials and is hand made except for the clothing that, when sewn together, holds him together. From the wig on top to the paper mache shoes on the bottom he is a pretty cool character.