Hello. I am Claire Ansit and I am a photographer for a small town newspaper. I aspire to become a photographer for the New York Times. I am not so good with words but give me a camera and you’ll get a picture worth a thousand words. I’d be excellent for the NY Times because I have a new way of taking pictures. I have a whole new view of the world through a woman’s eye. We women see things that men often take as unimportant.
I grew up in this little town. My mama was from the big city. She is always encouraging me to shoot for my dreams. While most girls are told by their mothers to get married and have kids, mine told me to read books and to educate myself. That’s what I did. I’ve had my occasional romantic interests. Truly, I’m just interested in getting to NYC. No man for me except for my camera and my reporter.
In this little farm town, I rent a room from a family in town. I’m rather fond of the room and shall be sad to leave it when I move on to the big city. I’ll take my mama’s antique mirror with me, but nothing else. I’m going to start over and I’ll be a true business woman of the 50s. I’ll have me a large apartment on a top floor where I have easy access to the roof top. I can already hear those big name bosses calling, “Miz Ansit, we would be delighted to have you go to this or that and take photographs for us.” Now, I’ll have to be selective because I won’t be able to say ‘yes’ to every one of them. But, for the time being, I am stuck in this smelly old town.
Oh, the other day, something of consequence occurred. Clarence, my current reporter, told me we had a miracle on hand. (Clarence is sharp with his pencil but not too bright on the come by.) I, being my practical self, knew this had to be some play on words. He dragged me down to the Zuckerman’s farm to look at a pig. ME! I was taking pictures of ‘some pig’ in a pig sty when truly I should have been photographing celebrities. Instead, I find myself crooning to a pig and a young girl, “say cheese.” Is not that the most horrifying thing that you ever did hear? I, Miss Claire Ansit, have no place in a barn with pigs and common folk.
Next moment, the pig faints. Have you ever heard of such a thing? A pig – fainting. It is absolutely absurd. Pigs do not faint. Oh, I know. Perhaps he had his nose in the mud too long and was suffocating. I snapped a picture real fast. Pigs fainting is definitely a thing of interest in a small town like our hicksville but not in the big city. Well, in the mean time, Clarence takes a glance at this web that has made this pig so famous. It turns out that instead of spelling “terrific” it has conveniently changed to spell “radiant.” I’m not so certain what is so radiant or terrific about a fainting pig, but I will tell you that I have never met a spider that could spell. Of course, her writing left a tad to be wanting.
The web did take me by surprise. Although I am not entirely that fond of spiders, I do believe that this spider would have been an exceptionally good interviewee. Of course, that is not my expertise and I do not believe that Clarence knows any other language than flattery. Like a good photographer, I snapped a couple of pictures with varying angles and I got some excellent shots of the people about me. I do have to say that the pig’s slop bucket was a tad disconcerting. It was positively repelling.
I’ve applied to NYC Times. Hopefully, I shall being hearing from them soon. Perhaps this miracle spider or shall we say pig can work this out for me.
