What is left, what shall we leave behind. A subject that comes more and more to the forefront of my thoughts. No idea what I want to do with it. For now, just aware it's there and it is important.
On impulse, when I heard of someone who scans photographs at a good quality, I had a bunch of old family photos scanned. My grandmother, the one I shared a room with until I was 10 years old, suddenly comes to life. Here she is with her younger sister, Fanny, which I have a very faint memory of. She did not live in the same city. I remember her coming to visit once. I remember a table full of small presents for me. She never married, I was probably her granddaughter as well.
Another photo of my grandmother, Liza, here as a young woman. I wish I knew her then. Talk to her and know her as a person. Not just as the comforting, stable presence in my life I knew as a child.
There is this famous question, ' if you could meet anyone, who would you want to meet'. Well, for the first time, I know the answer. I wish I could meet my grandmother when she goes out of the photographer studio that day. Sit with her in a cafe, ask her who is she, where is she going, how is her life. Introduce myself, as her only future granddaughter who would love her so much.
The power of photography. To let me know those parts of me I never knew existed. To ask questions. To know answers
