Can we please stay on the deck?

By Martha Frankel

Photography by Franco Vogt

In the spring of 2008, the great Woodstock photographer Franco Vogt asked to photograph me for his project, “60/60.” He set out to photograph 60 Woodstockers in 60 days, with no assistants, no lighting and minimal equipment. They ranged from well-known personalities to the guy who runs the local dump. First names only. No bios. Every night he would post the photos to his site.

They were stunning.

On my appointed day, I put some rollers in my hair, some blush on my face and waited for him to come over. “Let’s go to the reservoir,” he said.

“Why would we do that?” I answered in that put-everyone-at-ease manner I have perfected.

Vogt looked confused. “I want to shoot you outside,” he said.

“Why? I hate the outside,” I shot back. We stared at each other for a minute or two. “Come with me,” I finally said to break the tension.

I drove us to my local supermarket, the IGA in Boiceville. I didn’t take the rollers out. I piled my cart full of Oreos. I slapped on my Ray-Bans. A couple of my neighbors took in the scene. One asked if I could help his son find some magazine work. Another asked how my new puppy was. No one asked about the photographer, the rollers, the cookies. This is the best part of small-town life… you can be a known weird person and people embrace you.

But the I-hate-the-outside thing stuck in my head. I repeated it over the years, like you repeat “I never ate baby food.” “My sister was the dancer in our family.” Until, years later, you come across a photo of your Aunt Tillie spoon-feeding you Gerber peaches from the jar and you can still feel that metallic taste in the back of your throat. Or a guy moves to your town, falls in love with your best friend and reminds you that decades before, you and he won a dance contest over spring break at the Barcelona Hotel in Miami Beach.

So here’s the thing: I love the outside, I just don’t want it to be work. I don’t want to double the size of the garden, as countless people have urged me to do. I don’t want to grow my own vegetables. I don’t want to walk outside and feel…guilty.

This year I finally got my wish. I didn’t extend the garden—I extended the deck, literally doubling it in size. In doing so I covered two small gardens. And you know what? I’m absolutely delighted.