Lately, I have taken on the task of collecting and preserving the photographic history of my family. This is no small task. Obviously, our family has not generated the countless thousands of images and videos that modern families do, but I still have books and boxes of prints, negatives and slides to go through. I have been lately looking back, and beginning to study the beginnings of photography, learning the origins of my craft is paramount to mastering it, learning from past masters and their skills. In doing this, the progression of the way that we perceive the world through our little lenses and the way that those things are recorded has changed dramatically, as has our reverence for that recorded image. I have always loved to record things, as a kid, I had two small tape recorders, one reel to reel and later, a portable cassette recorder. I would interview friends and family, and in an age before VCR’s and DVR’s I would simply set my microphone in front of the television and record things like news events and special TV programs. I enjoyed the ability to listen to these things and re live those moments. Later, as I grew up those recordings were lost and I really wish I could put my hands on them now. I recently found a recording that my now 16 year old daughter, Sara made when she was 4 or 5 singing and goofing around just like me. Priceless. I immediately digitized and copied it. In the 19th century, photography was magic. Images were made on fragile glass or a more sturdy material like tin or copper. These images were unique, and sometimes the only recorded image of that family member, and treasured as the irreplaceable objects that they were, passed down from generation to generation.
My mother.
Gradually, technology changed, and we were able to make this magic ourselves, rolls of 24 and 36 exposures at a time, with plastic film and printed on paper. We accumulated more and more images, in boxes and books, but they were still physical negatives and prints, processed by someone with skill and talent, and they were tangible. It seems the farther technology advances, we gain the ability to make more and more images, but their nature changes, now we have countless thousands of images stuffed into terabytes of memory, more images than can ever be printed let alone viewed properly and enjoyed, and now these images are like smoke, vapor that can vanish in a moment. I regularly back up all my images, I have lost me fair share and don’t care to go through that stress again, still the new photography has moved to iPhones, iPads, and cameras so small they would make James Bond green with envy, phones for goodness sake, phones!
We regularly walk around with as many images and videos of each other in our cell phones that our parents and grand parents collected in years, and if you lose your phone, well, you have lost more than your contact list. So many photos make us complacent, we take these images for granted, they have lost their magic, no longer do we stare with awe and wonder into someone’s eyes through a modern photograph and feel that sense of preciousness, I can e mail that one to you. Take a second and a third glance at the images that you have, and consider why you make the ones you do, what do they really mean? What life will that image have, a moment of glory on Facebook? I am slowing down these days and really inspecting the images that I am creating and being much more deliberate in their creation, it’s difficult, coming from that high speed, gigabyte mindset of the modern professional photographer. It’s pretty liberating. Going through these old photos of my family is such a treat, like a time machine, because these few images are all there are! Children today have every moment of their lives documented in pictures and video, from birth, to birthday parties, softball games, dances, school events, whatever. Go to any modern event and stop for a second to count the number of people snapping away images on their cell phones, look at the parents at little league games, these kids will have much, much better re created memories of their lives at a younger and younger age because of this. I can’t remember much before I was 7 or 8. It’s just phenomenal. I am interested to see what the future holds for photography, but I find it moving a bit fast for me these days.
My uncle Evan, my father's brother.
Lewis, my mother's brother. Country musician and radio personality.
My grandparents, my dad is the little guy rubbing his eyes.
My mother's brother Bernard in the hat.
My parents at the river, my oldest brother, Phil is the infant.
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