I like the cameras, the machines. I like to fix them, to bring back a machine that has been given up on, given away, left for dead. A machine that once recorded lives that, if I fix, I can use to record my life, my family's life. I really enjoy the time spent at my workbench hunched over a camera or a lens, slowly, carefully restoring it. I love the triumph over dirt and grime and age that results in a working machine, once again able to record memories.
I like the film process. Every couple of weeks I will spend a Sunday developing film. That precise, measured, careful process that yields a string of negatives if you do it right, nothing if you don't. I like the mystery, the wondering, "what's on this roll?" that I remember from my childhood. I like the precision of it, the tedious, dull, exciting process of cold, wet hands and the ultimate reveal when the tank opens and out come your negatives.
When it is all said and done, though, there are the pictures, and these are the things that last. These are the memories, these are the images that make everything worth doing, because in ten years these people won't look like that, indeed they might not even still be with us, but I can still remember because on that day, I took that picture.
My mother once said to me "take pictures of people, because those are the one's you'll look back on and want to keep" and she was right. I've taken some nice pictures of airplanes and mountains and clouds, but when it comes right down to it, it is the people that matter.
Shea, because she's looking back at me but ahead of her is that sidewalk, that road, down which she will go, and I'll be there for some of, but not for all.
I just love this photo. I like the grain, the light, the expression, everything, plus the fact that I took it with my father's camera.
My beautiful wife, who is captured in all her tiny pixie wonderfulness in this photo.
My dad, my hero, who I have spent my whole life trying just to be as good as, smiling at me.
My mom and my son. Laughing together. They are so alike.
My beautiful daughter Megan who doesn't know how proud I am of her and how much she reminds me of me. The first one, who I held in my hands so small and helpless, who is now so strong and smart.
That's Mer. Laughing, while my childhood friend Bronwen reads tarot by candle-light. That's the one I'll spend the rest of my time with, right there. I love that laugh.