Worlds Remembered

My dear mom was the family picture-taker and album-maker. She worked hard at both. And was tireless in her efforts and enthusiasm for both.

The family albums, so it seems, were never more than an arm’s length away. At least to my mom.

I think, growing up, my mom probably enjoyed the albums more than the rest of us did.

I’m sure those albums gave her comfort, contentment, cheer.

For almost all of us, in the Twenty-First century, our smartphones are the new family albums.

The photos of our life, experiences, emotions, events, like the photos of old, are never more than a touch away.

I can’t help feel how powerful, nostalgic, sentimental it is to carry with us, in our pockets, and in the palm of our hands, our own biographies, and histories.

I was here and I have pictures to prove it. Not just for myself but for those love.

Photographs, in my world, bring me great comfort, enjoyment, well-being.

I can instantly recall, recollect, remember, reminisce, all with the touch of a screen. Amazing. Pinch me.

As I get older, and hopefully wiser, looking at past photographs, is as intentional for me, as when I created them.

I lean hard and heavy into the emotions of those very experiences, over and over again.

Photography has the ability and faculty to transport us to worlds unknown and worlds remembered.

Click.

I love being surrounded by photographs. I love being surrounded by photographers. I love being surrounded by photography.

Photography completes me.

Technically speaking, our cameras get better and better.

And so shouldn’t our love for the craft and our admiration for her better, deeper, more profound, more emotive, more storytelling, more personal.

Click again.

Jack