Today (Father's Day) is a good day to share this post.
During lockdown, I pulled out an old box of old negatives, all carefully labeled; a small remnant of my Father's huge photographic archive. Over the past few weeks, I have digitized them, bringing to life my dad's world before I ever existed. Many had scratches and dust spots so I have been working to remove those and then develop them in a way I feel gives them impact - playing with contrast, light and shadows.
In a sense I have been working with my dad, collaborating with the past, looking at life through his eyes. I wonder; 'why did he stop here? and marvel that the same little things catch our eye..a bird in its nest, broken buildings, the way the sunlight filters through the branches of a tree on our journey home.
My dad photographs emotion, intimacy, family, friends and colleagues. He leaves negative space in his portraits reminding me of his granddaughter's images; I recognized immediately Destiny does the same thing.
My father never lived to see me pick up a camera; or others in his family, but he left a legacy just the same. Working through his photographs in a sense I have been able to spend time with him, transported back to a time in his life that seems uncomplicated. I can see the love he has for his family; his wife and my oldest brother, then a little boy.
Just a decade after these were taken everything had changed. My mother arrived like a whirlwind, my sister and I followed shortly after..the rest is history as they say. These photo's bring both joy and pain. Remembering can be hard, especially when there has been heartache and great loss - but photographs are important. They are pieces of my past- a window into his life that was, a glimpse at the things that captured my dad's soul.
My father wasn't perfect, but that is why these images are important. He was human, a man who lived and made mistakes, but above all a man who loved- and gave me life. Photographs are so important, they have many lives and can be read in so many different ways. They are especially important when time has moved on and those in them are gone. They give context to who we are..who I am. I guess that is true of history itself- which is why it can be contextualized but never erased.
I loved my dad. Enjoy a trip through the 50s; join him and his fellow commuters as they travel to work, sit with them in the office, and stroll through post-war London with its men in cloth caps and bowler hats. It was a time to rebuild, and these images provide a glimpse into the remnants of 'an old way of life' - through the lens of one who lived it; Dick Workman. Thanks Dad. I miss you
