pictures.

A few weeks ago, my wife took one of the most important pictures that i have. My parents were in town for the holidays and on a snowy day my dad, my wife and i went for a walk. after it was over, i asked Fran to take a picture of dad and i. He wrote “dork” on the pickup window - referring to me (though i would argue it’s about him). I realize this doesn’t sound like much of a moment. Certainly not something to inspire much thought, just another goofy photo - the world is littered with them. But, for me it means a lot.

My dad is a photographer - he is the reason that i got into this crazy, wonderful profession.

Growing up, i really kinda hated photography. Or at least, it irked me. My dad worked as a newspaper photographer and I remember him being gone at odd hours - sometimes late at night. At the time i remember being angry - he should be home, puttering in the basement, playing star wars figures with me, just being dad. It didn’t happen often, but evidently it made an impression when it did. I grew up never appreciating all the photographs he took of my mom and i. As i was finishing high school i started thinking photography was kinda interesting. By this time my dad wasn’t a photographer anymore - at least not at the newspaper. He was Management.

College is when i really started getting into photography. My parents were supportive, although their dreams of my career as a brain surgeon came crashing down. My dad let me use his old, but almost unused, Nikon F3 cameras. Soon, once he saw i was serious about it, he bought me some lenses and eventually a newer camera. We would walk around my hometown and take pictures of football games. He would help me with F-stops, shutter speeds and the such. Then he would take me to the newspaper to develop the Tri-X. The smell of the chemistry was wonderful - the magic of photography that you hear so many stories about was real for me. But ultimately, the time with him was what was so special. After years of youthful apathy, i was finally interested in something he could teach me. After awhile i was confident enough to do it all on my own. I wouldn’t have been if it wasn’t for him.

Now when my family gets together we have two photographers. You see a lot of pictures of my dad doing something or me doing something. But, only a handful of pictures with the two us together exist.

You hear stories about people whose homes burn and the one thing they try to save is the family photo album. Pictures like this make me understand why.

“dork”