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T I M O T H Y S T E E L E A Couple, A Domestic Interior (on a photograph with the inscription: Vermont, 1903) It’s all in focus. The globe lamps declare a rolltop desk and bookcase; the grained air is still. She is sewing; he looks on, mustached and casual—though he clearly knows that at any moment the shutter will close. She appears somewhat cautious, too, but why? Nothing’s out of place. Curled on the floor, their setter; and on the far wall, his portrait and two oval mirrors that amplify the harmony and light. Or is there more? A mistress in Sherbrooke? Some land deal he pulled off to pay a gambling debt? And on her side—a son who hates her? the persistent fear of growing old alone? a lover from her youth she can’t forget? Or is it merely that there’s something tense and forced about their innocence, a willed denial of living? Still, they look so solid, as if they knew they’d only have to hold their pose until the camera flashed once—and then they’d be not simply granted security, but fixed forever in the quiet here: a man, a woman, a long afternoon, calm, domestic, perfectly clear. 94 ❚ The 1970s ...

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