A few years ago, I travelled to the USA and stayed a weekend in Provincetown, a small coastal strip across Cape Cod Bay in Boston. The whole street was full of galleries and artist studios and such an amazing mix of creative people.

 

Towards the end of town there was a old run down house with the worn out sign "Phyllis Jewelry". Peeking in the window, you could see this amazing collection of art and jewelry and old clocks but it seemed to be closed.

 

As luck would have it, there was a couple walking down the side street as I was exiting, and I asked them if they knew who the owners of the shop were. The gentleman smiled and said "That's my shop" and invited me in.

Israel, or Izzy as he liked to be called, and his wife Phyllis, were makers of handwrought silver jewelry. Their store was loaded with a collection of jewelry cabinets, paintings and photos done by Izzy across the years.  It was as if the trinkets made and collected, pieces gathered were never sorted or discarded, but all in their own way placed and treasured. 

I particularly liked his portrait paintings, all of which were very colourful and expressionist in style.

 

Needless to say though, it was the camera sitting on the shelf that caught my attention.

Izzy took it down and declared he must have left it sitting there for nearly 20 years. 

He invited me to sit outside on the front porch, our cameras in hand.

"Too nice a day to be stuck indoors" he said.

The verandah fencing was falling to pieces and required rope to be tied around the post so they wouldn't give over in the wind. We sat on simple plastic chairs and breathed in a beautiful coastal afternoon.

Izzy spoke at length about his journeying into art, not only in silver work, but in photography, in painting and in music. He had lived earlier on New York and was for a time a jazz musician, a drummer.

I expressed to him my love of old jazz and that I too dabbled in playing percussion. 

He jokingly said that he would happily trade cameras with me as mine was looking a bit more modern. I politely declined.

Izzy noted - as I did - how strange and wonderful the afternoon was and that there really should be a camera crew filming us two; strangers from other sides of the world and different generations that could just meet one afternoon and talk about life. 

"Just two guys sitting out on a deck and having a chat" as he put it.

The entire day (and indeed this series of photos) would not have existed if I hadn't said hello, and if he hadn't have been as generous in his hospitality to me.

Heading back in he pointed out his silver artworks on display, asking me if i was interested in making a purchase.

 

I dearly wish I had now.

My intention had been to journey back to America again, deliver these photos in person along with a film camera so that Izzy could have some working gear again. I think it would be amazing to see what he sees. Unfortunately that wasn't to be. 

 

Both Izzy and his wife Phyllis have now passed away before I have been able to journey back again.  

 

 

I am so incredibly grateful for when individuals decide to invite me into their world briefly. This gentleman was one of the most interesting and warm-spirited people I have connected with while travelling. And I hope that in future, my life and my home can be a reflection of just how colourful and creative this journey has been for me as well.

 

Thank you Izzy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Photos by John Englezos

 

www.johnephotography.com