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06/01/2015 12:00:54 AM |
| A very emotional tribute and keepsake. The pale lilac textures, especially the last one, made me think of Van Gough, the colour, the painterly strokes things that make up a life long lived and treasured. Beautifully done. |
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05/16/2015 11:10:38 AM |
| Images from your "Dispersion" pop into my head on a regular basis. This is a very special essay. |
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05/14/2015 01:10:32 PM |
| My mother died about 2 years ago, a year after moving away from her home-town, where she stayed for more than 60 years. On going away, her friends made her a patchwork booklet of messages, images etc. I have it now. This is your booklet of your grandma. Beautifully done. Do not throw it away, and share it with the ones who loved her. |
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05/06/2015 01:29:22 AM |
| very poignant story, to which we all can relate. I certainly can, having lost my 90 years old father a few months ago. Thank you. |
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05/05/2015 11:26:32 AM |
For me the most poignant thing is the marks on the floor and walls indicating that something used to be there. That is the emptiness and loss.
I don't think you need to excuse (to anyone, ever) the grief of losing a 91 year old. I understand the impulse, and the funeral is full of people saying what a full life she had, and how lucky she was, as if mourning were inappropriate. But all of us who have love in our lives need to be grieved when we go. This is not a critique of your essay in any way, except to say that your essay has reminded me of these feelings and made them sharp again.
I wish I had a testament like this essay to the nonagenarian that I lost. |
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05/05/2015 08:56:17 AM |
Wow, you are such a terrific storyteller. I loved the story and the images; everything I am going through at this moment with my Father-In-Law and went through two years ago with my Mother. I wish I had photographed my Mother's apartment as we were cleaning it out. My five brothers and sisters and me all in this tiny apartment going through all her stuff and reminiscing, laughing and crying; it would have made a great story and ending to her life.
Too much about me - I love your work and your vision, always a pleasure. |
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05/05/2015 04:26:32 AM |
Always distilling things to their essence, you are. It's a much more difficult thing to do, with verity, than it seems. It's not just a question of little vignettes (I mean the literal kind, not the photographer kind) and maudlin details. The skill, the fine judgement, is what to include and what to exclude to reveal the real thing. To capture the essence.
You've always done that, with windows, with cars, and with family life. Knowing what to say best by instinctively knowing what need not be said, or depicted.
This essay is in that same rare vein. Complete yet spare, bereft, and yet only gently sentimental. The sentiment is no less palpable for that light touch, and paradoxically actually feels deeper and more durable because of it.
Thank you. |
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05/04/2015 09:53:57 PM |
Your essay is very personal, emotional, and genuine. I’m finding it a little more difficult than usual to write a comment. The sense of grieving mixed with humor tells a beautiful story. The photographs on their own are more than capable but your writing brings us closer. So it’s a wonderful combination for telling this heartfelt story. The last shot of the cane leaning agains the wall was the perfect ending. On a technical note, the editing and toning of your images is masterful as usual.
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05/04/2015 08:12:38 PM |
| Love your essay. So wonderfully done, but I'd expect nothing less from you anyway. While it made me cry, it made me smile, too. And there's a LOT to be said for the ability to do that simultaneously. So thank you. Very much! |
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05/04/2015 04:52:15 PM |
| Wow! I keep thinking these essays can't get any better and then I see this. Nothing between me and reality. You have pretty much put me right in the thick of it with no pretty scenes, nothing photoshopped to give me a buffer. Raw and touching and rarely seen in a photograph. I recognize all of the items (except my beloved Mother-in-law had gefilte fish - many jars of gefilte fish instead of jello). The blank walls, the comfortable rocker, and the hated old vacuum cleaner. You have captured something very valuable. Very rare and valuable. |
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