Every so often something makes me stop and realise why I love taking photographs so much.
Growing up, as many families do, we had a photo drawer and family albums.. mish mash, hundreds of printed photographs in no particular order and a few albums from certain summers and holidays.. I used to love looking through them when I was young, laughing at how me and my sister looked when we were babies and using them to remember camping, family BBQs, birthday parties and childhood friends we met on holiday..
What I also love is looking at photographs taken before I was born.. pictures of my parents, Grandparents and even Great Grandparents and other relatives.. I love seeing the poses, old shop fronts in the background, everyday photographs, old interior decor, the fashions of the time and trying to recognise family resemblances of me, my sister and my daughter..
Each one is so precious and is something to be treasured. It really gives a sense of where you come from, and who you are.. Some are over and under exposed, some are blurred in parts.. some are even ripped at the edges and worn out in the middle.. but each one is precious. Most aren’t perfect or professionally taken, but I don’t see the imperfections I see the moments.. every photo owned by every corner of my family is part of my story.
I’m so lucky to be able to do what I love.. but on a different note it’s really humbling that photographs I take will become part of someone else’s story.. each photo will one day fascinate someone else that this is where they came from.. photos will be part of the pieces making up someone else’s history.
Here are some of my favourite photographs copied from one of my Grandma’s albums..
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