Another in the “Our Place” genre, this one in the American South at the turn of the last century, a town home in a neighborhood of tree-lined streets and above average size houses close to one another. Porches were a social extension of the houses’ living space; before air conditioning, television, computers and all the other things that claim our hours, family and friends entertained one another with gossip, current events, and stories – conversation was cultivated. Children grew up knowing what family and community meant by sitting and listening to these evening rituals.
Everyone is looking intently at the photographer; no one appears uncomfortable which means that whether you were a cook, housekeeper or gardener, you were invited to be a part of this visual family record. The only somewhat retiring figure is the tall, somberly dressed woman on the right. One of the charming hallmarks of these architectural/family exercises is that there is rarely any effort to organize the grouping – people stand wherever and however they choose, dress as formally or informally as they choose. One woman on the porch is wearing her best hat and poses a bit dramatically with one hand on her hip. The girl in the center with her hand on the tree is a striking brunette; her dress has the flamboyant shoulder ruffles so fashionable and her broad beret is like the boys’ Buster Brown caps of the period.
Every photograph is a story bound in time. Every camera is a timebinder.
