Reasons To Go 0.6 (Part Eight)

Did They Take Her Advice?  Did They Hell.

'So, here we are,' she said, 'recruiting for an antiquated horse that will have been put out to graze by the time next year's initiates arrive. (We're revalidating our own dear old horse, you know.  In case you didn't already know,' she added.)  For the record, she was seriously knackered.  It was looking like the knacker's yard for her.
The back-story: musical hand-held developing tanks as a strategy for separating the wheat from the chaff had been mostly ignored.  Instead they had returned to the established list of questions that ensured both interviewee and interviewers would be thoroughly bored: rather than prove themselves to be thorough-breds.  'Why Photography?' 'Why Fine Art Photography rather than the other Photography?'  'Why our Photography rather than Photography at an institution anywhere else in the country?'  For the most part, no one had a clue.  Including her.  It mostly came down to proximity to the family and, thus, access to free food and laundry.
'So, you want to be an artist,' she encouraged, quickly changing tack.

Apparently, yes.  Always yes, yes, yes.
'Have you got a life?' she mused.  (Yes, yes, yes.)
'I'm sorry, I'm improvising,' she admitted.  'I digress.  Back to the list of questions.  Can you name a nineteenth-century photographer?'
Silence
'Can you name a photographer working in the Victorian period?'
'I'm not very good at names or dates.'
'Then just name a dead photographer,' she spat, momentarily forgetting she was supposed to be a professional.
'I did do someone as part of my research project, but I can't remember his name.  I did write the essay on him, but it was a long time ago now.  I mean, I'm talking a good week or so ago.'
'Is he dead?'
'Well he looks kind of old.'
'Dead, please.  Dead.  Just name a photographer who's dead.'  She was beginning to feel a bit tense.
The response was sadly lacking.  It turned out that 'he' was a 'she' and apparently still definitely alive and kicking (even if her work was moribund).
She took a moment out to practise a bit of cerebral mindfulness (a useful aid against depression) and some positive thinking.
'That's good,' she said.  'Good, good good.'  'Have you considered Level Zero, at all?