The real value of photography

Posted by KC - 03/09/10 at 02:03:26 pm

Twenty years ago when my father’s terminal illness had progressed to the point where even the most hopeful of us realized his life was ending, my brother George arranged a weekend at the beach for our family. I distinctly remember resisting the idea but was persuaded to go along. When Dad passed away a month later, the few photographs we have from that weekend became treasured mementos. I hadn’t taken any of them.

Several years ago when the health of my father in law began to decline I quietly began making informal and mostly candid photographs of him, knowing from my personal experience that his family would appreciate them when he was no longer with us.

He died on Friday and about a dozen of those photographs, joined with images from his childhood extracted from carefully preserved old albums and a handful of 20 year old snapshots were converted to a slide show by the funeral director. It played as a loop on the day his friends came by to pay their respects. This image was chosen as the last in the loop, and may be among the most important photographs I have ever made. I am grateful to my brother for teaching me an important lesson that I could then apply many years later.

Tell me your story

Posted by KC - 03/04/10 at 02:03:41 pm

I love stories. Always have. I still remember my 6th grade teacher, Helen Trexler, reading the book A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle aloud to us as a class. It’s as vivid as yesterday. I can describe the room, the light in the room. I can tell you where my desk was. I can see her standing there; hear her voice. Even tell you how she was dressed.

Hearing that story changed me. That’s what great stories do.

These photographs are portraits of a three wonderful people whose lives and work are wonderful stories. We all have great stories. We are born with them. Something about the process of “growing up” seems to cause a kind of amnesia. We can’t always remember our own story. It took me a long time to remember mine. A handful of remarkable people helped me remember it, and now I realize that every person I have a conversation with is helping me remember my story. Like my friend and fellow photographer, Kim Siedl, who just yesterday helped me remember some keys elements of my own story. All of these people help me remember and tell my own story so that it brings joy and purpose and meaning to life.

The secret to my work as a portrait photographer is to invite my clients to tell me their stories. That’s it. It’s really quite selfish on my part. I am fascinated by their stories. And then while they are telling them to me, I make a few photographs. It’s simple, really.

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