photography

I never thought I’d search to find out whether recycling centers could accept photographs, or not. The thought of getting rid of pictures never crossed my mind before.

I spent several days sorting through my Grandparent’s photographs. Some of them date back to the 1930s.

This was an overwhelming task, to say the least. I could not believe the amount of photos I had to sort through. My Grandmother passed several years ago and it took a while to get started on organizing them after I separated them for family. Not only did I notice that the amount of photos increased as the years went on, I also noticed quite a difference in how they were taken.

In the earlier years, the photographs gave us just a glimpse into that time period. I came across a few rare photos of my Grandmother playing on the rooftop of her apartment building when she was a child and my Grandfather’s soapbox derby cars that he built and raced. It was pretty cool to see photos of them at different ages and have a visual to go along with the stories they told.

Going through photos from the 50s and 60s, when they were first married and had children, I noticed a slight increase in the amount of photos. Some where black and white and some had color. It was fun to see pictures of my Mom and Uncle celebrating birthdays, holidays, and fun trips they took to the zoo. What I noticed about this period of time, is that there were more photos of the Christmas tree before the kids woke up and some scenic vacation photos, as if they were comfortable using a little more film to document the experience.

Polaroid made a big appearance in the photos from the 70s and 80s. Although the first polaroid camera was sold in 1948, I got the feeling it was a more affordable camera by this time. Who didn’t love film that was developed immediately? Again, I noticed an increase in the amount of pictures. In their defense, this is the period of time they became Grandparents. I noticed the photos captured random moments and candid poses. I saw photos of people making silly faces or laughing and smiling at a fun party. It’s like they had more film available to play with and could be spontaneous as they were snapping pictures.

In the piles of 90s photos, I was seeing double! I remember my Grandmother purchasing doubles from the photo lab every time she had them developed. Do we really need more than one photo of my early 90s teased bangs that added a few inches to my overall height?! I’m sure the Aqua Net stock doubled during this time, as well. I probably should have thrown some of those embarrassing photos out, but I had a good laugh. So did my kids.

I guess it wasn’t so bad that we had extras to share with friends and family, but by the late 90s and 2000s, the amount of photos were excessive.

Loads of photos, with so many angles of the same scene. I was amazed at the number of photos we had from our family reunions at the lake each summer. Pictures of family in the water that were taken at such a distance I couldn’t make out who was in the photo. Multiple angles of the family volleyball game and my uncle on the grill. Not only would everyone know what we did because we were there, but they can now be sure that we swam, played volleyball, ate burgers, and lots of people were smoking. The camera captured it all so that we did not forget.

There were still plenty of meaningful pictures in those stacks of photos. Closeup photos of our family having conversation, posing in groups, or going down the zip line!

What I noticed at this point, is that snapping the camera became overkill. It was way too much.

Sorting through the digital photos was an enormous task because they weren’t all in one place. Scattered memory cards, devices such as iPad photos, and websites like Shutterfly where you can download photos. I’m so glad I knew my Grandmother’s password or I never would have found the photos she stored online.

And that’s when I had to decide which ones were most important to keep. Had anyone suggested I get rid of some of them, just after my Grandmother passed, I would have refused.

But now, getting rid of some of them really made sense.

I know my Grandparents had a blast on many vacations, but I did not need that many photos of the New York City skyline or multiple angles of the beautiful blue waters at the beach. I decided it was best just to keep the photos where they are visible- the photos we can clearly see what they were doing, with the scenery in the background, and not a photo of them somewhere off in the distance.

I kept going from there. We didn’t need photos of multiple angles of every single Christmas tree my Grandmother decorated with all the presents underneath. I kept a few to divide among family and discarded the rest. There were loads of photos of snow-covered cars after a storm or photos from the overlooks on the Blue Ridge Mountains. We live in the valley below them and see them every day, so there was no point in keeping them all.

Do the photos of these majestic scenes really do the moment justice? If you show others, will they fully understand what it was like? Living it and experiencing it ourselves is the most amazing part of it all. The photos serve as a reminder, as we look back and remember what was happening in that moment and get an idea of the times we were living in.

And now, in the digital age, a moment has the potential to become a full on paparazzi attack. It’s not always natural and it can take away from really living in the moment.

The truth is, I have been guilty of these things. Taking multiple photos to make sure we have the right light and angle- just to crop them and brighten them to make them Instagram-worthy. I took this time as an opportunity to learn something about my own behaviors and think about the photos I would be passing on to my children.

It really hit me when I saw a polaroid photo taken in 1999, when my brother and I took our Grandmother parasailing for her 60th birthday. Just one photo exists of that moment as we were about to take off. I did not have a phone at the time to take pictures above the waters to show everyone just how high up we were, or selfies of us in the air. We just lived it and had a wonderful time! The best part was seeing our Grandmother so happy because she always wanted to go parasailing. The polaroid taken just before liftoff is all the reminder we need. And that’s all we need, because a photo high above the open sea really has no lasting effect. Will it really impress those who weren’t there?

Seven or eight photos of the Statue of Liberty isn’t as wonderful as seeing it, in person. And there are tons of photos of it out there if I want to take a look. It doesn’t compare to the real experience.

I took a few things away from this time I spent sorting through photos. First, I wondered what we were leaving for the generations after us with this overload of photos? Which photos can be passed on as cherished memories and which could be considered an excess of photos that will be a huge burden to sort through? Second, what are we taking away from them in the moment, as we capture their every move and angle on our cameras?

Something the older photos made me realize, is that I need to be more intentional about the photographs I’m taking. A single basketball game or a band concert doesn’t need to become an entire photo album. Our children want us to be present for them and they won’t be missing out if we only have a few photos from that event. The same for our friends and family!

I’m not saying don’t take scenic photos of your trip for you to enjoy, but limiting the amount might be a good idea. Remembering these type of photos are really for you and not everyone else, might help with limiting what you’re taking. Maybe find one good photo of that scene to frame, keep a few, and delete the rest. Just an idea!

Sorting through these photos revealed that the camera once gave us a glimpse into our lives as we were living them…and now it seems we live our life for the camera. It might be a good idea to pause and really think about which photos would be most enjoyable to those we will pass them onto. After all the work and overload of photos I sorted through, I now realize I’d like to make that process a little easier on my children. To leave them meaningful photos that will give them happiness and good memories of those moments- that will hopefully spark good conversation and stories for them to tell, and not a huge pile of photos to do that for them.

FYI- Photographs cannot be recycled, except in special circumstances. Check out this article from Recycle Nation about the types of photo paper that can be recycled and other ideas on what to do with old photos.

PIN:

It was a cool fall day in 2016 when I walked around the farm, snapping photos of anything I could. My husband’s grandparents lived in this old farmhouse and the family was preparing to let it go after it had been vacant for ten years.

It wasn’t easy to say goodbye. His Grandfather built this farmhouse when his mother was young. The family had a lot of memories, here. I only knew his Grandparents for a short time before they passed but I loved them. They were such kind people and made me feel like I was a part of this family the first time I visited.

What was left at this point, were memories of a life once lived. Rusted farm equipment filled the buildings. A few decorative kitchen knick-knacks were left along with shelves of home-canned jars of food grown on the farm. Some of it covered in dust. Farmland once filled with livestock and crops, now overgrown. A life that still had intention when it appears to have come to a sudden stop.

The hard work and dedication to making a living and providing for family were evident. I had no intention other than taking pictures from my own angle and perspective. I’m so glad I did.

I didn’t take the perfect photos, but I took them from a place of our own understanding. I wanted to capture the outlines from the woodstove smoke, where the family photos once hung on the wall. A picture of the kitchen where his Granny worked tirelessly to prepare meals for her family. I remembered the conversation and laughter that took place in that kitchen as I photographed it. A large family filled this small space during every holiday or any other occasion the family gathered to celebrate. I had tears in my eyes just thinking about it.

I didn’t have plans of creating a photo book when I took these photos, but a year later I decided it would make a nice gift. And it was the perfect gift for my mother-in-law.

I took these photographs on a whim. I tried to brighten a few of them, but they weren’t the sharpest photos. And that’s okay.

The photos I took evoke emotion. They were close-ups of things once necessary for everyday life in the house and on the farm. The corner of the living room where Grandaddy used to sit. Detail and character you often find in a house this old. It was all where life once happened and where the family gathered. What a gift it was that I was a part of it, even if it was just for a short time.

His Grandparents were special people who worked very hard and created a life with meaning. And now we have pieces of it to remember inside this book. It sits on our coffee table for others to enjoy and a few family members have their own copy.

I had this book created and printed in my Shutterfly account. It was a lot of fun to piece it together and put this collection of photos in one place. A photo of the farmhouse with the driveway leading to it was perfect for the cover.

I hope to encourage you to do the same. Create your book of memories. Gather the photos that have meaning, even if they’re not perfect. Use them to tell a story. Share them with others.

I love photographer David Alan Harvey’s quote- “Don’t shoot what it looks like, shoot what it feels like.” How perfect that quote is for what was captured, here.

I wanted to remember what was left and to remind us of what it once was. Maybe it wouldn’t mean much to those who didn’t experience it, but it meant everything to us.

I added very little wording to this book. A meaningful quote on the front cover and a simple message for my husband’s mother on the second page. The photos said what was most important.

The cobwebs all over Grandaddy’s copper kettle reminded us of how long it had been since we gathered around it as he made apple butter. Their children’s old storybooks stacked one on top of the other, barely hanging on to the binding that had come loose. And here we were, hanging on just the same, though it was time to break away.

We knew it had to come to an end. The farm sold in 2018. It was a tearful day. The house and the buildings were emptied and we thought that would be the last of it. We thought sure the house would be torn down by the new owner.

I’m happy to say we were wrong about that.

Much to our surprise, the new owners fixed the house up and turned it into an Airbnb. I cannot get over what they have done to the place…it’s really amazing!

It’s called Long Run Farm and has been completely renovated. We are so happy that Granny and Grandaddy’s house is still standing, thanks to owners Paul and Marilee.

I hope to meet them, someday, and see the place with my own eyes and not just in pictures on Airbnb. We have passed the house many times on the way to his aunt’s house, which is nearby. We got to watch from the outside as they were renovating. I heard they even had a wedding inside Grandaddy’s old barn. How wonderful!

Now we have this book sitting on our coffee table. It brings back a lot of memories but is a little emotional to look through. I’m glad we have these photos to remind us of what was left just before we had to let it go.

I’m thankful to my husband’s family for being so welcoming and kind since the day I set foot on the farm. I will always treasure the time I spent here on this beautiful piece of countryside in Greene County. <3

Sorting Through Eighty Years of Photographs (Cherished Memories or Inherited Excess?)

Creating a Photo Book: Memories of a Life Once Lived