Seeing the potential in a thing when it’s gone
Probably anyone could associate with this but I know I don’t feel it when I’m medicated so it’s in this category.
Here is a picture of my Dad, taken 5 years ago on a Nikon D70. It’s one of the first photos I ever took in a ‘studio’ setting and I look at it now as if I had just taken it, as if I was just excitedly uploading it into Adobe Bridge bristling with excitement because I knew one of the 20 or so shots I’d taken had come out ‘just right’ and feeling like getting a shot like this could lead to great things. I look at it now and my head says ‘that will make such an awesome present for Nanna and Grandad’ and ‘this is the kind of photo I’ve been striving for, I can’t wait to take more shots that capture the essence of someone like this’.
And then I also look at it and see the beginnings of my Dad’s throat cancer in the slight bulge in his neck and think ‘I should tell him. It’s right there, there’s potential to warn him’. I guess that’s better than looking at it and thinking ‘oh, how different things are now’. I suppose photographs are meant be an epochalism and that’s what I’m rabbiting on about.
Anyway, this photograph does something to me and that’s rare. Even rarer is it’s my own photograph and I guess there’s genuine potential still lingering in that. Genuine potential that I could actually be a good photographer in the future.
I’ll see you on Monday, Dad. You’ll be late to the station and complain about it messing up your day having to pick me up then you’ll bully me about how shit I am at roof tiling but I’ll accept it and I won’t, not even once, tease you about your ineptitude at many things.