Everyone in Vancouver has been waiting for the day where the Spring blossoms pop up, and here they are. We couldn't be any more delighted at the sight of them.
"be softer with you.
you are a breathing thing.
a memory to someone.
a home to a life."
- nayyirah waheed
I spent the evening looking through old slides with my Dad. Photos from when he was a young boy, fishing with his father and younger brother. He told me stories about his dog Pettue, his cow Gabriel, and his pig Petunia. He told me that he cried when his Dad shot Gabriel and fed them steak for dinner. I noticed that his Mother always baked a new and unique cake for every birthday. I saw how pleasing and easy-going my Grandfather presented himself, and how he always seemed to be leaning comfortably on whatever was around him. His demeanor was confident and his gaze was always sharp, and seemingly mysterious. I learned a lot through these photos. It reminded me of the power of a photograph. The beauty and art in what can be captured in these daily, somewhat mundane moments.
It made me wonder about thoughts that occurred moments before their finger pressed the button and the flash exploded on that vintage camera. What was their intention for the photos?Our lives these days are so saturated with other people's photos -what everyone else is doing. Photos are taken with the mindset of posting it on social media for friends to see and for people to admire. I loved the timelessness my Dad's photographs held. They captured moments not necessarily to share with others, but to hold onto tightly for themselves, and the family generations to come.
It definitely made me wonder about my intentions with my own photos. It challenged me to think about why I post what I do, and reminded me that honesty can flood a photograph. I loved how that was portrayed through my Dad's photographs. My Grandma didn't get to "caption" her photos and take 20 photos just to get the exact moment with that perfect angle. The moment happened, and it was captured just the way it was. There were photos where stark sadness and loss were portrayed as the person sat alone on a rocking chair on the porch staring past the camera. It surprised me to see such sadness in certain photos. It is funny that it surprised me. We don't see