Time Keeps Passing
Two photos, a decade apart. The older image, obviously, better: overcast light after a light rain on a street in South Carolina. The recent one, backlit by a sun sinking beneath the horizon, the clothing not suited for a panchromatic image. But what is interesting are the arms in each photo. When my granddaughter was four, and I saw her black dress and the light bouncing off the wet surfaces, I asked her to stand in the middle of the road. She just put her arms the way she did and that’s what I got. In the recent photo, I was not even thinking of the first photo. It was in front of our house in Clearwater. Same wide lens. And without coaching, there were the arms again, folded in a similar fashion. I didn’t realize this until I saw it in the darkroom. I had forgotten about the latter image. That is the mystery of film. It records what the mind doesn’t remember or even see. You don’t get a chance to check the back of the camera as in digital photography. So it’s easy to not know what you have, especially if weeks pass before you develop the film. I think a contemplative portrait of a child can capture a future personality trait. But I guess you have to observe the child while shooting.