Resolution

If you ever get a chance to visit the Getty before Jan. 9th, you'll see the Irving Penn exhibit. In his small studio, he had people of various trades come on in with all their necessary gear and pose against a stark, blank backdrop. 

What I enjoyed most about this exhibit was seeing how people actually looked like their jobs.  It was impossible to reserve judgment about these people apart from what they did for a living, so I know that my own bias was playing heavily into seeing how the morgue caretaker looked so...morgue-y. But I wondered if these people found the job to fit them as snug as a glove or if they've evolved to eventually resemble their occupations.  

What would our own photos look like? Would we be armed with the trusty Blackberry, laptop, and thermos of coffee? But more importantly, what would be the expression on our faces? Would we presenting to the world an occupation that we love?

I forget that I'm daily portraying myself and my career to an audience of students. So often I show them the fissures of stress rather than unadulterated joy in working for a living. In that sense, I believe that all of our various trades are connected: we are all posing daily with our occupations, for our occupations. We are all unofficial representatives. 

God knows how hard it is view a job as anything but a job. I awoke abruptly after having a nightmare about being back at school, only to find that I was granted unlimited hours to linger further in my cozy bed.  The prospect of waking up early to a freezing morning, chiseling away at a marble slab of ungraded papers, and dealing with students who cheat, lie, and give up, doesn't quite fill me with love and inspiration. However, if I am painting a portrait of a teacher for my students, I want to show bliss. It can be a rather quiet, stoic bliss or the big, grinning kind like the plumber above.