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For Colton, one of my dearest virtual photog friends and for whom I could never write enough. Just sifted through my archives for a shot that seemed a best approximation of the Daiku-san vibe, though I could never-to-rarely hope to achieve his comparably effortless compositions. May you rest in peace, friend. I can't find the words except for "thank you" and "grateful".
Konica C35FD | Ektra 100
Please see some of Colton Allen's brilliant body of work if you've not before: flic.kr/ps/mHqNc
A series of remembrances.
Explanation below...
Pentax MX | FA 31/1.8 | Fuji RHPIII
I feel like I need to add some words to these. These, this photo and the seven preceding, are about the quiet and the empty that remains from a loss. These were taken in the home of my father's parents, my grandparents. I know this house through and through. I know how it smells and I know the light at each season and time of day. These were taken in the early dawn hours very shortly after both of them had passed, within an hour of one another (another story in and of itself that can only be summed up as "love") ... For me there is a heaviness as well as an eternal lightness in these photos and am glad I took them, of spaces in the house were there should be activity, goings on, coffee being made, a paper being read, football on the radio, a weather bulletin, a pie or cookies in the oven, a chat about the goings on in town.... So much and so many ghosts haunt these frames within them and just outside their borders.
In each and every empty and quiet frame I can see them and multitudes of moments all at once, or single memories. I loved them both so dearly. The house has since been sold some years ago and a new family makes their life there now. But this is the shadow, filled with light in my head, of how I remember it, how I remember them. Forever.
A series of remembrances.
Explanation below...
Pentax MX | FA 31/1.8 | Fuji RHPIII
I feel like I need to add some words to these. These, this photo and the seven following, are about the quiet and the empty that remains from a loss. These were taken in the home of my father's parents, my grandparents. I know this house through and through. I know how it smells and I know the light at each season and time of day. These were taken in the early dawn hours very shortly after both of them had passed, within an hour of one another (another story in and of itself that can only be summed up as "love") ... For me there is a heaviness as well as an eternal lightness in these photos and am glad I took them, of spaces in the house were there should be activity, goings on, coffee being made, a paper being read, football on the radio, a weather bulletin, a pie or cookies in the oven, a chat about the goings on in town.... So much and so many ghosts haunt these frames within them and just outside their borders.
In each and every empty and quiet frame I can see them and multitudes of moments all at once, or single memories. I loved them both so dearly. The house has since been sold some years ago and a new family makes their life there now. But this is the shadow, filled with light in my head, of how I remember it, how I remember them. Forever.