Sometimes, it’s the quiet moments that get you the most. The moments between one child and another, in the most unstyled, unfashionable, uncontrived of places. Sometimes it’s these moments that speak to the human experience and the force of relationships, between even the littlest members of our families. Sometimes it’s a tiny hand, a giggling raspberry blown on a soft tummy, the quiet of an afternoon rest, the sweetness of a little smile, the clasping of hands which shows the strongest of bonds.
Sometimes it’s those things I love the most about documentary photography. The way it has the ability to capture these quiet moments, the ones where no one is dressed up, no one is posed, no one is even remembering the camera is around. By inviting a documentary-style photographer in to your home, you give up the worries of “what will the weather be like?” and “what if my baby is clingy?” or “my lounge room isn’t styled enough”. None of that is relevant anymore. All that is relevant are the people, and the moment.
This baby. This child. This love. This two minutes of joy. That’s what’s worth remembering.
And by the way, it’s not enough that these photographs are taken, nor that they’re stored electronically. They need to be printed, put in to a physical form so that one day when these little girls are grown up they can hold them in their hands and flick through them and maybe remember this moment, and moments like it. It will bring in to focus a part of their childhood that maybe stays hidden way down in their subconscious, a vague ephemera of sensations and emotions. They’ll be able to put the print in a frame and keep in on their wall to remind them of simple times that made them who they are. They’ll never do that with a hard drive, or a USB, or a cloud storage password.
I’m off to print these right now. What are you going to print today?
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