Analysis – Foley Gallery, Caitlin Atkinson Photo

Viewing this particular picture with an artistic eye, rather than from a writer’s perspective, is much easier. The photographer’s subject is illuminated in light, while the background remains in shadow. The angle of the light is such that the three roses on the counter behind the woman are visible. The rigid posture of the woman is further enhanced by the straight lines of the counter, the stove, and the exhaust fan above the stove. The repetition of the flower pattern on the woman’s apron is repeated in the roses in the background. The picture has an asymmetrical balance – the darkness on the left of the picture is balanced by the slight light on the left. The woman is in the foreground, and the focal point of the picture, however one cannot help but be drawn first to the dish in the woman’s hand, back up to her face, and then to the roses in the background.

This photograph has a distinct personal statement for me, and yet I cannot help but wonder of the true story behind the picture. Why did the photographer take this particular picture? Does it hold any personal significance for her?

According to the website for the Metropolitan Museum of Art, “chromogenic print” refers to the most common type of color photograph, printed from a chromogenic color negative. I cannot help but feel that this photograph is anything but “common”. It has a distinct and powerful message - depending upon the reaction the viewer has to the plight of the woman in the photograph. I felt empathy and a kinship with the woman - I was once like her.

When I saw this picture, my first thought was not of a woman’s failed attempt at baking, rather that the look on her face while showing disappointment, also held fear. I was immediately reminded of the times during my marriage when I would attempt to cook something new and different for my spouse, and for whatever reason, it would end up in as a failure – complete with the smoke alarm screeching – further acknowledgement of my disastrous creation, and only adding to my humiliation.

I would always worry about not having dinner ready for my spouse when he would come home, and would be afraid at what he would say and/or do if his meal wasn’t prepared and waiting for him. While I refuse to go into details, I learned to not attempt to cook something new or different unless I knew for certain that my spouse would not be around to see whether or not my attempt was successful.

I remind myself that I have a new life now, but every once in awhile something happens, someone says something, or I simply view a picture…. and the floodgates of my memories once again open.