Mrs. Ford's Garden
I was young and poor and shy as a student at Brooks Institute of Photography in Santa Barbara, California. During those 3 years earning my degree, I rented a room in a house on a hill between the city and the sea, from an exquisite woman, Louise Ford. In her seventies, she had young sparkling eyes, white hair and a wrinkled face. Her jet-black cat Lucky would often sit on the baby grand piano, like a vase, as Mrs. Ford (I never once called her by her first name) played. Mrs. Ford was from a classical music world and regularly played the cello, having attended a renowned music school in the East with a name I don’t remember. She was humble, kind and quick with a chuckle. I liked her.
When I think of Louise Ford I think of humble elegance, in black and white. This succulent plant thrived in her small garden.