The Vorrh
spinning mirror. He switched off the lights and turned his back on the darkened room, making his way to bed with a desperate sense of having been undervalued again and, in some inexplicable way, tricked.
He slept badly, in a dream of being continuously awake. The pillows aggravated his rest; the sheets clung or slipped; his bladder was the only fact that ruled and divided the short night.
He rose far too early and snatched the dried prints from their stringy line, bustling them into an envelope and a leather satchel. He had not even fully dressed yet, and he roamed about with his lower half naked and ultimately flaccid. By nine o’clock, he was exhausted but did not dare sleep. The outside world was working, and it was time he joined it.
He washed and dressed for his meeting with the Winchester woman, preening disconsolately before his looking glass: if he must present his failure, at least he would do so with some dignity. It had been her idea, he mused in the endless carriage ride, to make these pictures in the first place; he had tried to explain to her from the beginning that it was not his usual subject. By the time he arrived, he had an entire speech prepared, about the true nature of photography and its urgent importance as a scientific instrument. He did not want to insult the old woman or her puerile beliefs; it might still be possible to get her to fund a real project, one worthy of his talents and skills.
He was ushered through the gloomy polished rooms, which seeped resin from all the fresh wood but refused to shine, and into another reception room where she waited for him. To his horror, she was not alone: Elder Thomas stood by her side, his lank, dark seriousness absorbing the little brightness that the room possessed. He looked at Muybridge with a polite indifference, which the photographer suspected covered a seething contempt. Sarah’s eyes drifted from his nervous face to the satchel in his nervous hands.
‘Thank you for being so prompt, Mr. Muybridge,’ she said, generously ignoring the fact that he was forty minutes early. ‘I do hope your journey over here was not too tiresome.’
‘It is always a pleasure to call on you, ma’am, the distance is of no importance,’ he said.
‘As you can see, Elder Thomas is joining us today; he is as excited as I to see what you have achieved.’
This time, everybody present looked at the satchel. It was time for the speech.
‘Photography is seen by some to be an art and by others to be a science,’ he began. ‘I believe its future lies somewhere in between. With new cameras and developing processes, it will become possible to catch many of the wonders of nature and hold them for examination forever.’
‘Excellent,’ she interrupted, ‘I am so pleased to see that we are of such similar minds on the subject, that we can envisage the wonders of both worlds being brought together so.’ She flushed with an infant joy and he wilted in the blindness of it. ‘Please, may we now see the pictures you made?’
She extended her hand towards him. He had no choice and no more words, so he opened his satchel and brought out the envelope. Elder Thomas retrieved it from him and brought it swiftly to her side. She opened it and removed the prints, laying the images in her lap.
‘It’s not always possible… ’ he began to mutter, but was halted by the look on her face.
She turned the first print over to view the next image and her expression deepened. The elder peered over her shoulder, his countenance beginning to reflect the same intensity.
‘The third print was more difficult to expose,’ said Muybridge to deaf ears.
As she looked from image to image, he was lost. He had no idea what she thought. It looked as though her face was shifting through amazement and shock, but certainly not into the disappointment he had expected. Her eyes were moist, and small sighs fluttered under her moving lips. Could this be rage, he wondered. She set the prints down in her lap and lifted her head.
‘Mr. Muybridge, I had no idea,’ she gently said. ‘I had hoped something might be possible, but this! I thought at first you seemed a little reticent, a little surprised by my request. Yet these!’ she said, touching the prints and leaving both hands folded over them. ‘These are beyond my wildest hopes. You are obviously a man of significant talents.’
Emotion swept over her again and the elder touched her sleeve. She rose and turned to leave the room,
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