I recently discovered this self-portrait of my grandfather, taken in December of 1961, and it stopped me in my tracks. Not only because I lost him four months ago and the ache of missing him hit me like a Mack truck, but also because something about it felt so familiar. I saw myself in him. I saw his joy in snapping this photo in the mirror, hoping it would come out clear and accurate to what he was seeing as he shot it, a feeling myself and all film photographers know well. The hope that the image is as crisp and cinematic as it looks in the viewfinder. I saw the joy of taking a photo, just for the sake of taking it. And it changed everything for me right then and there.
I wrote about the photo worth a thousand words, to me, over on my Substack. I can only hope to leave behind a world as beautiful as Pop Pop did, one he created through decades of portraits. I aspire to be the kind of artist and photographer he was, capturing ordinary life in the most extraordinary way, for no reason other than he loved doing it. 🫶🏻
a(muse)d. My first ever solo exhibition. 8 years of shooting, 9 muses 🤍 I’d love to see you there.
THURS NOV 14 7PM
@cafe.bureau
SOUNDS BY @kcxcazz_
TATTOOS BY @tyler.xls
RSVP IN BIO
