The name sounded vaguely familiar, maybe Mindy had read it in articles at some point. She didnāt keep up with the photography world. āIām Mindy Durling. Iāve read your name once or twice before. But, Iām a hypnotherapist. I donāt get to read many interesting magazines these days.ā
Mindy smiles for the photographer, waiting patiently until sheās done.
She can see why that would become a recognized series. But the memories and stories Lana must have of those peopleā¦
"Yes, Iāve heard of it. The series of destitute men and women from the street. I always thought that would be a terrible burden, being recognized from slices of misery. I would be reminded of it constantlyā¦ how I came across those people, their stories, where they might be nowā¦" Mindy trails off, staring into space.
Lana takes her picture, then checks how it came out. Mindy's hair is so vibrant, even without touch-ups. It was perfect.
"...It's not the work I'm most proud of," she says quietly, "I really don't like it anymore, to be honest. I knew a lot of the people in those photos personally. Some of them are dead now."
She doesn't want to go further than that - it's much too painful a memory. Getting a bit closer to Mindy, she shows the photograph to her subject, smiling softly. "This is what I really love to do - take pictures of people just... being themselves. Street snaps, candids, whatever. I love taking pictures of human nature, people being people. I want this to be my famous work, not photos from a time better left forgotten."
