photographed on kodak portra 120 film. hasselblad.
( the archives: 1976 )
(my mum & dad)
(my mum & i in the driveway of grandma & grandpa wood's house)
(me in my crib... the resemblance with my own son is uncanny)
(me & my dad... yep, daddy's little girl for life)
what is a photograph?
it's something you can feel. deeply. in the middle of your chest.
a photograph is a reminder. a reminder of someone, of something, in the past... almost guaranteed to have shifted or changed or departed.
it is an answer, an insight, a story.
i look at my parents, embracing, laughing from that honest, pure and real place inside themselves (you can almost hear it). in the sunshine, in the country... with someone holding a camera. a collaboration.
who we don't see is part of this story. the author. the camera operator. the friend.
as photographers we hold a key, we open a door, we invite.
when you look back, all you see is the beauty. how gorgeous you were, how young. how happy and in love.
what a gift is the photograph.
( portrait: max )
rarely am i without words ;) but the gentle kiss, inhale of baby's scent, caress... between a mother & her child does leave me speechless. the tenderness between two human beings is never more powerful or honest then a parent & their child. if we could extend a fraction of that to our fellow neighbour, the person driving the car infront of us, the cashier, every single person who crosses our path... how much more pleasant and happy our days would be. i pledge to stay soft, to try tenderness first. join me?