Hopefully, I will pull myself out of my misery by reading Julio Cortázar’s Hopscotch, which is fantastic. But once I put the book down, the nightmare of having images that you are associated with being sold on eBay due to a family member’s mistake is depressing. To be fair to my fellow family member, he thought it was all clear for someone to come through the household to pick up stuff that I and a fellow artist didn’t pick. The rotten luck is that we missed a vital box or pieces of paperwork, art, and, most important to me, photographs. One is an announcement of my birth, with a very naked photo of the baby, that sold for $330 on eBay. The other photograph, and its negative, is being sold by this Seller, and he’s trying to get more money out of me. Still, I offered him $100. He eventually sold the photograph (not the negative) for $305 to some other citizen of the eBay world. Because I felt that the photograph should have been returned to the family, especially the negatives, he refused my offer of $100, and so it goes. I knew it would not go well when he asked, “What is it worth to you?” That is a grave and important question.
The photograph in question, of course, is essential because it’s a picture of my father, Wallace Berman, in front of Tempo Music in Los Angeles with the store manager, Lee Wilder, who was 18 years old at this time, in the year 1947. Another photograph is being sold by this Seller, which was taken on the same day and place, but this time with his girlfriend, Loree Foxx. I don’t know where or how Wallace and Loree met, but both were drawn into Jazz, especially Bebop Jazz. Wallace did some art/graphic work for Ross Russell, who owned Tempo Record Shop and the label Dial Records. Both Loree and Wallace were known to be great dancers in South Central Jazz clubs. So, the photograph represents my family and a bit of Los Angeles Jazz/Art culture. I would argue that the picture belongs to me, or at the very least, a public museum/institution where they can share this image with those studying my father or Los Angeles Jazz history. The Seller, I believe, is more interested in the dollar value of Wallace’s life than the importance of history or sharing that culture.
I refused to bid more for the photograph, especially after he separated the negative from the printed photo as a separate item. He kindly offered the negative by telling me, “Money talks. If you read my blog here, you may know that my mother and her brother (my Uncle) died in 2022. It hasn’t been a leisurely walk in the park, and coming upon this person selling family photos of me and my parents hasn’t been an easy journey. I also must add that he obtained the photos/art legally because he went through the estate without my knowledge but with the understanding of the individual who was looking over the estate and who owns that estate. It’s not my estate, nor do I own those photographs, but I could take things I wanted or are essential to me because it is my father and mother’s letters, art, etc. For some reason, I didn’t see the photographs or art mentioned here when I originally went through my Uncle and his husband’s household. And early this week, I was informed that the Seller spent much time on the property. It’s not the signed two first journals I produced with the poetTodd Baron, Issue, signed by me to my Uncle and his boyfriend at the time, nor the journals that my father made that bothers me, but what bugs me is that he took (or purchased) personal family photographs and then expects me to pay for them to get them back.
From my memory, he posted, then took down, a photo of me when I was five on my Mom’s lap, and there is a photograph of Loree Foxx, who was my dad’s girlfriend during the late 1940s and then became a girlfriend to my Uncle. As one ages, the personal history dies unless you have photographs in front of you or in your presence. One reason why it’s essential that universities and institutions have libraries where people can come in and look at the images. To sell a photograph to a private collector is understandable, but the thought that a person has a piece of social history hidden in their study or storage space is wrong. Unless it belongs to that family, therefore they can have it framed and placed on their mantelpiece above the fireplace where I now made a space for my Mom’s shrine and ashes. Memories stay fresh, and now there is Proust, Cortázar, and yours truly.
Tosh, I was devastated by your experience here, as it has happened to minor degrees with my own Andy Warhol experience(s) made public. I have always strived for invisibilty, to remain on the sidelines but sometimes found myself being revealed without my consent. Yours is a far deeper violation, and I have passed your blog on to the first of an empathetic group of friends who might be able to support you in this outrageous violation of privacy. Scott Hobbs, who is head of the Cameron-Parsons Foundation, put me in touch with LISA JANSSEN, a lovely woman who has been working with him to place Cameron's work in a proper, permanent home; she is also involved with the legacy of Renate Druks. I think you may be hearing from her soon. Please allow me to serve as a conduit, though my contact list has been severely diminished in the 8 years since I moved to Louisville to be supportive of family in the wake of my mother's passing.
I would appreciate my comment to remain private, as I am besieged by hackers from all parts of the universe (And, WHY? I do not have money, power or influence in my KY isolation).
Tosh, we are such kindred spirits. Please know I am with you all the way. I feel your pain.
With Love and Fortitude, Susan Pile (AKA ANONYMOUS...,susan2pile@me.com 9/8/2023
yuck to the monetizing. Yes, money does talk, and what it’s saying about him is . .z