Archive for January, 2009
Picture taken by my Dad, a great photographer, taken merely by candlelight. Adore the eyes of all three in photo. Thank goodness, center, the Birthday Boy, Dad of the kids, eventually dumped the glasses, unfortunately only recently when they fell apart. Not sure the ages here, but soon the two kids would be joined by a little brother who today is 26. Photographer no-longer alive, so picture though always appreciated, has become even more special, feel more aware of him, almost like a fourth person though not really there then or now.
Messages | 22.01.2009 5:56 | No Comments
First snow of 08. I made my boyfreind get up well early, which he hates, and take photos with me. The park was empty and scilent but looked so beautiful with a blanket of snow.
Messages | 22.01.2009 5:55 | No Comments
John loved photography and at the age of just 17 had travelled round Europe taking photos with a group of friends. He left my nan’s house in a hurry and didn’t bother to wear his motorbike helmet. he died from head injuries when he crashed into a wall near my school aged 18. Afew months later the compulsory wearing of motorbike helmets was introduced.
Messages | 22.01.2009 5:54 | No Comments
I watch the light gently filter in, glowing brighter each day. Although I cannot yet see, I know I will be fine. This is all that I’ll ever need. This is all we’ll ever need. To feel the light and feel loved.
Messages | 22.01.2009 5:50 | No Comments
Lonely mornings without your voice, without your attention, without your mug in your hands are nothing. Miss you so much. I count days when I can see this mug and my face in your hands.
Messages | 22.01.2009 5:48 | No Comments
Leo has 4 lunch boxes. But when he put a sticker on one of them, it became his “new lunch box†and the only one he wanted to use.
Messages | 22.01.2009 5:42 | No Comments
This is my Great Grandmother I have no idea how this photo came into my possesion and come to think of it I do not even know her name. I do have that very sewing machine (which is green) passed down to me by my grandmother…… I use it all the time.
The second photo was in an old bells whisky box with all my old photos. I do not know who the people are or where they are going.
Messages | 22.01.2009 5:38 | No Comments
These are all pictures of my grandparents or great-grandparents on my mother’s side. I recently found some of these when clearing out stuff in my parents’ house.
The first one is the group photo, a group of people gathered on a hillside, staring smilingly into the camera.I find this photo endlessly fascinating. I found it years ago and ‘nicked’ it from my mum – it’s an odd photo, because I see me in it though it is not me. The little girl sat on the grass to the far right is my mother, but she looks almost like me when I was her age! The blond boy next to her is my uncle, who died of cancer about 9 years ago. And then the idea of this theatre group my grandparents were a part of, which I never knew about. And I might mix things up, because I have another small faded photo of about twelve people on a pier by the beach – you can hardly see their faces, but they were also the theatre group – perhaps more so than this photo here that is a mix of family and theatre. But more than that – the importance here is the meaning I suddenly attach to the photo because I recognise myself in it and because I discover this other life my grandparents had – and that of course says more about me than them. That this somehow gives their lives more meaning. It doesn’t of course. No more no less.
The second photo is my maternal grandparents. One, my ‘mormor’, who I was very close to and the other, ‘morfar’, who I never met – he died twenty years before I was born. This is from another time – long, long before I knew my grandmother or before she became a grandmother even, and there’s a joy and lightness to her that I never knew – again, they’re like two strangers. There are a lot of incongruous details about the photo too, they were both what in English terms would be deemed ‘working class’ – he was a postman and she worked in old people’s homes – but in this photo they look like something else, sitting in the sunshine on a balcony, she’s been horse riding etc. My mum could probably explain it all and tell the whole story, but in a sense I prefer to make up my own. Then there the photo of the man with the great twirling moustache; my great-grandfather Marius, who I’ve never met – but the photo intrigues me. He might as well be a stranger I can invent all kinds of stories about, but we’re related and somehow – simply because of this fact – it imbues his photo with a sense of History and everything that’s gone before me. Similarly with the last photo – my great-grandmother – who I perhaps feel an even weirder affinity with: I was going to be named Karoline (after her), but in the end my parents decided I’d only end up with a shortened nickname anyway, so they called me Line. Karoline has become a character I’ve written about in several scripts, although in different versions and with different character traits. But using her name. She exists now, even if totally fictitious.
Messages | 22.01.2009 5:33 | No Comments