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. π«Άπ»
a(muse)d. My first ever solo exhibition. 8 years of shooting, 9 muses π€ Iβd love to see you there.
THURS NOV 14 7PM
@cafe.bureau
SOUNDS BY @kcxcazz_
TATTOOS BY @tyler.xls
RSVP IN BIO