In the blink of an eye
How do you capture 'Boyhood' and the passing of time? The late Matt Lankes had an idea.
Austin lost a noted photographer last week.
I didn’t know him well, but Matt Lankes made waves in the Austin creative world with his portraits, particularly an ongoing series he made of the actors in “Boyhood.”
That’s the movie Richard Linklater quietly made over 12 years, right around the time I was moving to Austin.
Each year, Linklater would round up the crew: the young Ellar Coltrane, who played the protagonist; his daughter, Lorelei, as the sister; Ethan Hawke as the prodigal father; and the real star of the film, Patricia Arquette, who portrays the mother.
Matt Lankes, who was already known for his portrait work of people like Willie Nelson, joined the second year of filming to shoot photographers of the actors. He continued after the movie came out in 2014.
I remember watching “Boyhood” as I was becoming a single mother myself. I’d never seen anyone capture the feelings I’d felt as a parent until I saw this movie.
There were no cameras rolling, but I knew I was in the thick of my own movie, cast in a role that required me to keep showing up.
After my divorce (the same year the movie came out), the boys and I moved into a house that wasn’t far from where Matt lived with his wife, Jamie, and their kiddo. I’d known him through Facebook, and that’s how I found out, one day in 2015 or 2016, that they were hosting a print sale on a Saturday afternoon.
I stopped by their house and found a welcoming family surrounded by art and Matt’s portraits that I’d seen in all of the best magazines. I decided to buy a series of black-and-white photos of Patricia Arquette that hooked me as soon as I saw it. This trifecta of images stopped me in my tracks. I recognized each of these women. They were raw and fierce, tired and determined. All the things I was feeling and knew I would continue to feel in ways maybe I couldn’t understand on that day.
These photos quickly became one of my favorite pieces of art in the house.
Matt’s photos added an entirely new layer of meaning to “Boyhood.” His images let me believe, if for a moment, that I might be able to freeze this moment in time. Or maybe that one.
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I’d been told every day of my own “motherhood” that I need to soak up every moment. The poopy diapers and sleepless nights. The crying toddlers who refused to eat. “You’ll miss it one day,” they told me.
These portraits became my constant companions during the “days are long” phase of parenting. The portraits watched over me as I did my best, just like she did, to find my way as a human and as a parent.
After Matt’s death last week, I mustered my courage to re-watch “Boyhood.” I felt a familiarity with the story, the portrayal of the experience, the mix of nostalgia, fear, and exhaustion that comes with being entirely responsible for the welfare of tiny humans who fight at the dinner table.
Patricia Arquette’s performance as a mother evolving from a fragile new parent to a weathered woman who has survived a war with the world isn’t my story, but it’s a version of a story I know well: second marriages, haphazard co-parents, arduous professional journeys. With each change in her hair, her posture, her way of moving through the world, I think about the ways I have also changed year after year.
The life that happens in between the photos.
But it’s so special to see all that time condensed into one three-hour film. That’s the appeal of long-term projects like the Up series or Billie Eilish’s Vanity Fair birthday interviews. Thanks to the patience of their creators, we can see time pass in the blink of an eye.
And the passage of that time reminds us that time doesn’t last forever.
That’s why my heart has been heavy since I learned about Matt’s terminal diagnosis earlier this year. He has a young son at home and an older daughter who lives in Ireland. Their lives will continue even as his ends. There won’t be any more “Boyhood” portraits as seen through his lens. There won’t be any more photos of him, either.
I know that grief.
The last picture.
The end of the birthdays.
These photos — and the movie and Matt’s untimely death — offer a profound reminder: Time waits for no one.
I can’t freeze it in time, but maybe I can enjoy each frame.
Coming to you with a heavier newsletter this week.
Because grief doesn’t stop for summer.
If Matt’s family reads this, I want to send them my deepest condolences. I hope that reading about how his art has affected someone else’s grief and parenting journey might bring them some comfort during this difficult time.
This week is the 19th anniversary of the death of my best friend from college. His accidental passing changed the course of my life and introduced me to the concepts of grief that appear often in this newsletter.
I always take time to honor his life during this time of year, but the truth is that his spirit is with me every day. Just like these photos of Patricia Arquette in my office and, now, the memory of the late photographer who took them.
Art and artists are here to help us make sense of the world and our role in it.
Thank you so much for your support of this newsletter, readers. What we pay attention to grows, so I hope that this week’s post gives you something nourishing to consider as we head into the height of summer.
Until next week,
Addie
