History Is Happening Now

You don't see characters like this one much anymore. Come to think of it, he was out of the ordinary even back in 1973, when I took this photo.

One of the benefits of reaching a certain age is that you have more life experience to look back on. And if, like me, you've been an active photographer for most of that time, you've got lots of photos documenting that life.

I've got photos documenting the inner city neighborhood I grew up in, back when it was predominantly African-American. We inherited it from Japanese-Americans who bought houses there are being released from U.S. internment camps. We, in turn, passed it on to Latin Americans.

I've got photos I took while I was on scholarship at a college preparatory school in Sedona, Arizona. At the time, the only road in and out was unpaved. I could ride into town on horseback and literally tie the horse to a hitching post in front of the local camera shop while I bought darkroom supplies from the proprietor.

When I got a scholarship to attend college in Cambridge, Massachusetts, I took photos all over town and of all my friends. Some friends have died. Others have become national celebrities.  Some of the photos I took then have been lost to the ravages of time or simply thrown away. They just didn't seem that valuable at the time. Who knows? Maybe they wouldn't seem all that valuable now either.

The point I'm making here (yes, there is a point) is that as unremarkable as your everyday life and environment may seem now; as unworthy it seems of being photographed, it will change and may one day disappear. Not to be morbid, but so will you.

That's why you should make sure that while you're waiting and searching for the photos that will become the cornerstones of your photographic legacy, you should make sure to capture and save at least some of the things you may take for granted: your home, your neighborhood, your friends, your family. If you don't, I can all but guarantee you that there will come a day when you wish you had.

Comments

[Lesley]

How true. I am lucky to have inherited family photo albums from two aunts, which include some photos of my Grandmother's early experiences in the Canadian prairies (from about 1900), and a few from her life in England before that. The scenic shots are only mildly interesting, even though I recognize some of the places.

On the other hand, pictures of my Mum as a child and teenager, shots of the new car, the business delivery van, and my Grandmother in her garden are priceless and full of meaning.

As a "serious" amateur photographer, I have far too few photos that will be of such interest to future generations. I had already recently resolved to remedy this situation (and to print and label these photos), so to me this posting is timely. Thanks.

[Andreas]

He he, I got the point as I read the subtitle of the photo (which is great btw.).

Aren't you just saying that we should shoot more, or to be more precise, take more "snapshots"?

The more I think about it, the more I come to the conclusion that those "snapshots" may be the real thing in some decades from now.

And you just reminded me to go out and shoot more, and think less about it!

[Rick-S]

Some forty-plus years ago I played in an R&B group, about five years worth. It was one of the most fond times of my life. While I do have some "priceless" photos of the experience, regrettably there are far too few of them. I was just too busy having fun to think seriously about documenting it more thoroughly.

My parents have been gone for quite some tim now, but over the last several months I have been going through all the old family photos and mementos. While they are plain, ordinary, everyday snapshots, they are extraordinary in their story.

There's one shot my father took of main street downtown covered in heavy snow in 1948 with bustling auto traffic and pedestrians moving along with their lives as if it were a balmy spring day. I'm sure Dad's intent was to take a picture of the snow but what he got was much more. It's one of those remarkable "moments in time" we all strive for. But I doubt he ever saw it that way. To him it was just another day in the life.

Since finding that photo, I've tried to duplicate the shot from the same vantage point but we haven't had enough snow to really recreate the feel of the original scene.

Everyday is unique and eventful for each of us. Your encouragement to record the seemingly mundane is sage advice.

Rick