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Once she made a grilled bluefish in homage to a Miró painting and even Roland agreed that it was worth the wait.
Most people don’t think enough about potatoes.
But back then, that first summer in Paris, she didn’t yet know the power of pictures, how a frame creates reality, how a photograph becomes memory becomes truth. Or Lee could tell the real story: the one where she loved a man and he loved her, but in the end they took everything from each other—who can say who was more destroyed? It’s this story that she’s locked up tight inside herself, this story that she was thinking about when she hid all her old prints and negatives in the attic, this story that makes the delicate teacup tremble in her hands.
Lee nods. “I’ll do it,” she tells her. “But not his photos. Mine.” Audrey rolls the stem of her wineglass between her fingers. “I can’t promise that. This is a story about Man Ray.” But it’s not, Lee thinks. And that’s been the problem all along.
Empty wine pitchers are lined up neatly next to Lee’s plate, and on the far end of the table is her camera, which she has taken to carrying everywhere despite its heaviness and bulk.
Still, Lee has learned a bit about taking pictures from him and at Vogue, and there’s something comforting about the camera: both a connection to her past and something a real artist might carry around.
She had released the shutter, and where nothing had existed, suddenly there was art.
She cannot bear to leave her camera—what if it gets stolen?—so she picks it up and tries to ignore how absurd she feels carrying it while wearing the robe.
It is not until her camera is gone that Lee begins to understand how much she has grown to love it.
As Lee wanders the city, she finds herself composing photographs in her mind instead of paintings.
“Light is our tool,” he is saying. “Film is just a surface for capturing and holding light, but until the film has been developed, extra light becomes the enemy.” As he talks he arranges the supplies, lined up on the table where he has placed black tape to mark their spots.
