I've been photographing Amanda for more than a decade now, maybe it's 15 or 16 years or something like that. When she got, very pregnant she asked if I'd take some photos of her. I was in Boston at the time for something and climbed in a taxi only to get a call from Amanda saying she couldn't do it, she'd just gotten some terrible news.
She'd had, what turned out to be, a false positive to a genetic test telling her that there was something dreadfully wrong with her foetus -- Neil was in Europe, chaos and uncertainty reigned, I wished her the best I could and eventually returned to Philadelphia. She called a few days later saying that the test results had been wrong but she still wanted ... for the sake of any better term, maternity photos so we looked at our schedules and picked a time, right up by the little Palmer-Gaiman's exit date for maximum giaganticness.
I didn't want photos of Neil staring longingly into Amanda's navel, or kneeling in a field, or some weird midriff shirts, I wanted them doing the stuff that they did every day, if it wasn't authentic, I wasn't really interested.
We got a room at the Gables bed and breakfast in West Philly. I photographed Neil & Amanda lounging around, working on their computers, reading, doing all sorts of Neil & Amanda stuff. I used a Leica M9 and a Canon 50mm f 1.8 Serenar as well as a Voigtlander 35mm f 1.7.
Amanda and I walked downstairs to the living room. She passed a stained glass window that the sun was coming in through.
"Look at this," she said, looking down, "isn't this beautiful?"
Welcome to Earth little Anthony.
They got dressed, put their bags in the car and headed off to Tennessee to bring Anthony into this world. And in those days all the naiads and dryads & fairies & novelists & publicists & magicians & comic book illustrators came out and offered a gift of hope and a promise to help. My gift was this memory of Anthony and Amanda's last moments as one creature. I think it's probably better than a golden plate.
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