Entering a new era in my photography meant visiting old eras...
As I write this, I'm currently making a slow transition into my full-time photography career. Over the past few days and in the coming weeks, I'm rebuilding my website, my client management software, my gallery hosting, everything. I feel like I'm starting all over again. Fresh. But this time, I know what I'm doing. So, I revisited my brand colours and made a new brand guide for myself. But in building my new website, I went looking for a certain photo in particular. I went digging for a photo I knew existed but I didn't know where. Did I scan it? Was it on my hard drive? Is it only physical? Which album would it be in?
In looking for it, it didn't take me long to get lost in "old life" stuff. I came across photos of my childhood house and noticed things that had faded from memory. The long, stretched phone cord in the kitchen, the fruit wallpaper, the intercom system because my mother hated shouting through the house. All of these memories came flooding back. Even the clock gave me a flashback to when my mother realized I needed glasses.
I got to the part of my photo collection where I was in high school with my friends. And I know they hated how often I had my camera out and the amount of photos I took of them, but I will forever be grateful for being that person. Because now, 10+ years later, I can look back at all these silly videos, funny photos, and screenshots of old conversations. We all had shit going on in our lives, but at the end of the week, we all came together and made it a point to hang out. Sure, some came and went, some floated in and out, but whoever did join us on those Friday nights, made high school bearable when you have other crap going on. And reliving those moments while looking for a photo from 10 years earlier, was a welcome detour. I found myself smiling, tearing up, and cringing. We were cringe. But we were free.
I scrolled through about a year and a half worth of photos, videos, and screenshots. I sent a few throwbacks to friends for us to reminise about later. I even found myself yelling at the computer screen "how did I not know I was gay?!" through tears of laughter. And when I got to the photos and the selfies of around the time my father died, I knew my little detour was up. I got up, turned on Taylor Swift, and went looking for the physical copy of the photo.
And I, you guessed it, found myself on another detour. To be honest with you, I found the photo I was looking for quite quickly. But this time around, I wanted to look at the old photos of my dad's car, the photo he took of my mom in the Tim Horton's Drive Thru before they got married, their wedding photos, and so much more.
See, when my father passed, we lost all of his photos. Seriously, all of them. A few months before his death, I remember going to his apartment with tons of photos and some Ches's for us. My mother gave me the photos to give to him but I wanted us to go through all of them. He gave me a couple. Specifically, only the ones that he had duplicates of. So that photo of my father and his best friend dressed in drag and smoking, I will never find that physical copy ever again. And it was hilarious. He would tell me the stories behind the photos and I would ask to keep as many as he would allow. I'm sure you can see where this is heading.
Long before my father died I had an appreciation for photography. It was the art of it all that captivated me. I often had vision for something artsy. But because I couldn't paint worth a dollar, photography was my medium. So having my camera out with my friends in high school, part of me knew it was to have moments to laugh at later down the road, but in the moment it was all about the art of human connection. My friends being goofy, doing weird stuff, and really trying to get the "artsy shot" whenever opportunity struck. Some of those old photos are really bad. I see what I was trying to do... but, man, the execution was not there at all! LOL
And when my dad died, and we lost those photos, my brother and I were devastated. We looked all over the city. His usual hang out spots, the bus he used to take, we looked everywhere. It got to the point where we just accepted that something happened and he threw the photos away. Be it by accident, or what, I don't know. My father would never dispose of photos like that ever. Which is what made the disappearance so strange. But some small part of me still holds out hope that they're out there somewhere.
So at this point of my story, I'm sure you can understand my love for photography. I'm sure you're imagining the albums on top of albums of photos that I have. And I'm sure it comes as no surprise to you that I keep every. single. photo. that I take. I have backups on top of backups and all of my physical photos are in the process of being scanned so that no photo of mine ever becomes lost. Because I refuse for the time to come where I have nothing to show for my life - and I mean that literally. I want my photos to show the connections I had with my friends, how silly I was, what my first car was, what my grandmother and I got up to on a random weekend.
Because at this point, my father's photos aren't just gone. Those memories are as well. They faded away when he passed. And I don't mean to make it sound devastating, even though it kind of is, but I'll put it into perspective. I had very little memory of what my childhood kitchen looked like until I saw that photo today. I could tell you the warm colour of the cabinets, where the fridge was, and the fact that we had an island. But I forgot all about where the stove and dishwasher were. I forgot we had a small TV on the counter and a radio under the cabinet by doorway. I forgot the colour of the tiles and the countertop. I even forgot that the window looked out to be eye-level of our backyard treehouse. So, seeing that photo today, really adds to my point.
Photography isn't just a piece of art like I saw it to be as a kid. I mean, my father's photos were everywhere throughout our house. I really thought photography was like painting for the lazy folk. But now, I know that these photos are the memories, and each time you look at them, you're visiting that time in your life all over again. The amount of emotions I went through as I saw my high-school self date my ex, break up with him, date someone new, watch my friendships come back to life, graduate high school, move out with my mom, quit university, and I could keep going.
It's so cheesy and cliche to say it, but these photos are everything to me. The last thing I want in life is to forget anything that happens. And seeing that photo of my childhood kitchen again made me realize how much I have forgotten as I move through my adult life and focus on my career and well-being.
I'm not going to end this with some cheesy "make sure you have copies of your photos!" or anything like that. But I do think Taylor Swift put it perfectly when she said "take pictures in your mind of your childhood room." Then again, I remember one thing, but the actual photos of my childhood room tell a different story. So I'll end with this: hug your families. Take a few extra photos. And hire the photographer who tells your story as it is.
Love ya,
Margaret