Sunday, February 26, 2017
I love getting lost in my photos. Given the time, I could devote a lot of it through just sifting through old memories, souvenirs of trips gone by and reminiscing of past events. But some of my favorite photos are the thousands I have taken that I don't know the history, there is no background for me - it is just a picture and I get to be the author to its story.
The subject caught my eye perhaps because of the colors, the tiny details or particulars that stood out to me. I am drawn to weathered objects, antiques, things that are old and have substance. They must have a story and because I may not know it, it's become that more interesting for me to photograph. I may go on to find out more and educate myself or I may simply leave it as it's shot and respect its privacy.
The beauty in these photos for me is that I can almost picture what it was like freshly painted, unscathed, without any chips or dents. I can picture a lady tending to her windowsill herb garden, hanging her dishtowels to dry outside the kitchen window in her gorgeous apt in the old city of Mesagne. I can almost smell the sauce cooking, the children playing in the street below and maybe a radio on in the background. Shortly it will be lunchtime and soon thereafter the city will become mute, there will be few cars on the streets, shutters will close to the world outside and everyone will be resting for their afternoon siesta.
I don't have to only see the paint chipping on the window frame, the empty pots, the forgotten ball. The windows shut tight to keep the light out and the stone sill needing repair. I can see what once was and what still might be.