“Wouldn’t this be cool, Chris Rouw?” I commented. Chris liked my comment. We had entered the contest.
I knew it was a long shot, but I had to try.
Margaret’s art is stunning.
Margaret does old school photography, the kind of portraits you’d find in the Civil War era. She’s a wetplate photographer from Milwaukee. During the weekend of Feb 6-8, she was working out of the country’s oldest operating hotel, just a few miles from our home.
The images she creates are unique, authentic, and captivating. I thought about making an appointment, but due to cost and our busy schedule, I never did. It seemed like a lot to juggle.
I learned in January that another couple was chosen to receive the session. I was happy for them and regretted not making an appointment myself. C’est la vie, right?
I never stopped thinking about it, though.
As I've learned over the years, life unfolds in surprising ways. At the eleventh hour we received an email asking if we would be able to attend the session on February 8th at 1:30.
What were the chances?
It was the perfect time, sandwiched between morning obligations, a trip to the coffee shop, grocery shopping at Hy-Vee, an afternoon basketball game, a respite provider arriving, grandparents coming to town, and a jazz show for Henry at the high school. If the time had been any later, it would have been nearly impossible because it would have disrupted Isaac’s too-rigid Saturday routine.
The moon and stars had aligned!
We looked at Margaret’s website for pointers. I wore red lipstick, the recommended color for the photos. Chris and I picked out clothes that showed texture. Henry supervised Isaac while we made a run for it.
Margaret Muza couldn’t have been nicer. She chatted with us about her tintype process, and how it’s a mix of science and history. We talked a bit about photography and how connection and timing have changed over the years. We asked questions. She was lovely. Warm. Artistic.
She posed us in a room in the old hotel, off of the lobby. She took the photo with one bright flash. Chris and I watched over Margaret’s shoulder as a liquid chemical flowed back and forth in a pan. The image developed before our eyes. No negatives were used. This was an original. A moment in time, saved forever. She’d mail it to us, she said, after she washed, dried, and varnished it.
“This is amazing. It looks like we robbed a bank,” I said. “Maybe two banks. We look pretty badass.”
“You should write that on the back of the photo,” she said, laughing. “These images last about 150 years.”
We decided one of our ancestors might find this treasure someday and wonder about the history of these two hoodlums.
We drove home, giddy as could be, and then we took a picture of ourselves on our couch. Could we capture our badass selves?
We received the tintype in the mail recently, and it was fun to see the final product.
“We look like criminals, don’t we?” I said.
“Who looks like more of a badass in this picture, Henry? Mom or Dad?” Chris asked.
“Mom does,” he said without hesitation.
Henry’s quite a smart guy. How I love that kid.
To learn more about Margaret Muza and her work, check out her website here.
Thank you to the Cedar Falls Downtown District and Margaret Muza for making this tintype session possible. It was a dream come true.