I sat in the front row. I always do. The professor walked back and forth explaining the reason why photography had become an art form. Blah, blah, Steiglitz, blah blah, Manet, blah, blah, blah.
He never noticed anyone. He never looked at anyone. He just kept talking to the class, not to me or even the attractive girl next to me. I turned to see if anyone was really interested. You couldn’t tell. Note takers . . . they were all taking notes.
The silence was interrupted by the mechanical swish of a film winder. I turned to see who it was and there, in the corner of the room was Steiglitz. He had obviously come to prove that you can make art by capturing light as it plays off a man talking about photography and it’s relationship to art.
