Monochrome Dreams-The Story (4 of 4)

It was just after her first daughter Laurel was born that photography came into Edna’s life. In picking up her husband’s camera to capture her daughter’s precious infancy, Edna found that the lens was a venue for channeling frustrated feelings; she could use its visual language to transform her conflicted life into something beautiful. Indeed, Susan remembered how her mother confessed to her that, “her photography helped her get through many difficult periods in her life”.

Edna followed Time Magazine and was keen to the transition from documentary to art that photography was making at the time. In particular she was inspired by the artistic missions of Alfred Stieglitz, Georgia O’Keefe, Edward Weston, Harry Callahan, Imogen Cunningham and Eliot Porter. These were artists who were all pioneering new methods and aesthetics in photography and art, using these mediums to push boundaries just as she had done at Cyanamid. Naturally, Edna was not to be left out of this exploration if she had any say in the matter. Laurel recalled that,

For many years, before she had the darkroom in the basement, she would set up her “darkroom” in the interior bathroom across from what eventually became “her” bedroom. Nightly, she would wait until we were in bed to set up the enlarger on a board set across the sink, put the safe light on the back of the toilet, and set up the trays of chemicals on a piece of brown wood that spanned the tub. Countless nights, when I got up to use the bathroom, I would knock on the bathroom door and she would call out “just a minute, let me put on the safe light.” In the morning, the bathroom would return, the “darkroom” having been out away for another day. I really have no idea how many hours and how many nights she spent this way. But I am sure it is what kept her going.

In this way, photography helped Edna to quietly reassert herself as a creative pioneer. Using her own darkroom allowed her experiment and to search for ways to improve the quality and sophistication of her images. More importantly, her agency in this matter helped her to establish one aspect of her life that was free of gender and societal constraints. For perhaps the first time since she forfeited her chemistry aspirations, Edna had found a way to express her innovation. To this end, Susan noted that, “Initially, I think she started taking photographs of us to send to her mother. Later, the beauty of nature inspired her. She used her chemistry background in the printing process. She used to mix her own chemicals and experiment with changing the formulas.”

Photography was also a significant undertaking in that it gave Edna a window into the small but influential artists’ community in Bethlehem. The few friendships that she formed during this time were with other photographers, with whom she would take pictures of local scenery and events. As Edna immersed herself more deeply into her art, photographer embedded itself in her formal identity. She entered her work in different contests, and it was merited with being published by the Connecticut Light & Power Company. and several times in Yankee Magazine. Later on in the 1970’s a local gallery, Studio 2, requested a collection of her images for a solo exhibition.

This success was only part of how Edna reclaimed her sense of self through her artwork. Laurel observed that, “part of her individuality was her name. Although my father requested that she exhibit her work under the name Mrs. Robert Miller, she took great pride in being Edna S. Miller! It was her identity and she was strong on keeping it.” In addition, Susan recalled her very particular opinions on her artwork, “She wanted her photographs to be viewed as one would view a painting. She did not want any glass in between the photograph and the viewer. She felt this created a barrier and detracted from the immediacy of the photograph. Later in her life, she waxed her photographs to protect them.” She was so meticulous about her photographs because so much of herself was embodied in them.

I only knew she had cancer for about a year. I don’t know how long she knew, but I think it may have been for quite a while. After she died, when I was cleaning out her room, I found a lot of books on cancer. It looks like she had completely researched it. I don’t know if I were in a similar situation if I would have the courage to know exactly what was happening to me. Maybe it was the scientist in her.

The exact cause of her cancer was never pinpointed, but Susan suspects that because her mother was a chemist before OSHA (the Occupational Safety and Health Administration) was established, she may have been exposed to dangerous chemicals without proper protection. Susan noticed that her mother had scars from chemical burns on her legs.
When both daughters reflected on memories of their mother, they shared a common sentiment that what they learned from her was indirect, rather than formally instilled, but still very profound. She provided them with intangible but extremely crucial ways of understanding that they now value as part of who they are. In one sense, Edna exposed her daughters to an aesthetic way of observing, such as when Susan notes,

When I was a little girl she used to take me with her when she went walking in White’s Woods. She would point things out to me, the light on a flower, the dew in a spider web, fall foliage reflected in a pond. I have often thought she taught me to really see everything around me from a very early age.

At other times though, this same ‘way of seeing’ extended into other areas of her daughter’s lives. Laurel recalled that, “we were raised during the civil rights movement…and I remember because mom made a point of…helping us understand about other people, and their fights…we were Walter Cronkite’s best friends from the minute he started broadcasting about any of the space flights, from the minute he was on, the TV was on, anything that had to do with science or the space program.” Both Susan and Laurel had always seen their mother as strong. It was evident to them that Edna valued education and peace and that she was not a very religious person. But as they got older, and as she did, too, they found that her photographs and their childhood memories didn’t encapsulate their mother as an entire woman. As Susan reflected, “As strong as my mother was, there was a very fragile side to her. I didn’t see that until I was much older. I’m sure she didn’t let me see it.” As a mother and wife, Edna revealed none of the difficult decisions that she faced due to gender, disease, or social isolation. Instead, her disposition led her to channel all of her feelings into her photography, a testament to her unconquerable spirit. Even her daughters, exposed to her artwork their whole lives, were for many years oblivious to the complex life journey that led her to create. Indeed, treading softly often means that others only see the trail once its traveler has passed.