One of my three incredibly loving grandfathers, James ( “Jim”) Farley, was a photographer. 35mm was his medium of choice. He always had his camera with him…always.
I never knew how much I too would someday live for the next roll of film to create with.
That photography would be more than a hobby to me, and it would become how I spend my days. That I would even love it so much I would build a portrait business so I could do it all the time. We may have had different subjects through the viewfinder, but I believe a very similar heart behind one.
I would give anything for a conversation about it all now- sitting at his small kitchen table in the corner of his ocean side home on Mount Desert Island like we always did when we came to visit. Magically pulling silver half dollars from behind my ear for me to tuck in my pocket.
I wish I knew then that I too would someday never want to be without my camera either…the things he could have taught me had I only known to ask… But I’ve inherited his photographs that I am still sorting though, box, by box, by box. They mean so much to me.
I’ve been pulling out favorites like this one here of the old wooden lobster traps taken one snowy Maine winter.
Each photograph telling a story of their own, and at the same time a story of him. Who he was, and what he loved most in the world. They remind me of why to take photographs at all.