Why Do Photographs Mean So Much To Me?

This was a question that stopped me mid-conversation with My Handsome Man. Internally I repeated the question, 'why do photographs mean so much to me?' I realised, I don't really know why, or at least, I have never really tried to put it in to words. I had never said 'this is the reason why I love photographs and photography.' 'This is why I spend time behind my camera and then at my computer editing.' Why do I love photography? I don't think it's something I can sum up in a sentence. At least, I can't at the moment.

I think part of the reason is that there are very few photographs of my childhood in comparison to my siblings. I came second out of four children. My older brother has lots of photographs of him as a baby; he was the first born and my parents were discovering their roles as parents for the first time. Every detail they could, they captured. By the time I joined the family, through no fault of my parents, the camera had reached the end of its life and they didn't have the money to replace it nor pay for films to be developed. They took as many photos as they could, when family members were visiting and they could borrow a camera.

By the time my younger brothers came along, another camera had been purchased. My parents also did the traditional 'Olan Mills' style photographs as often as they could afford to, although that was not the style of photography my Mum was interested in. Each visit she would ask the photographer to just get photos of us playing and the response was always a look of confusion, followed by 'you can do that yourself at home'. Maybe part of my love of photography is making sure that my younger family members have photographs of them playing as children.

It isn't just that though. I think there is a part of my personality that has always been focused on stories and family history. When I was a little girl, I remember visiting my Grandad and questioning him about Granny Laura, wanting to see photographs of her and hear more about her. I remember these questions continuing in conversations with my Grandad on Sunday afternoons in the five months he lived with us before he died.

Part of my love of photography is the little details that are captured, the moments otherwise missed on a special occasion. I love this photo of three generations from our wedding day.  I love that my Gran went out and had a manicure because she knew I wanted a photograph like this. I love the symbolism of hands and the story that these hands tell.

I am quite a visual person, at school my pencil case would be filled with different coloured pens which I alternated use of to help me stay focused. I had a particular way of laying out pages in my exercise books, it just worked best for me. I guess, in part, my love of photography can be linked to this. Pictures speak to me. I love flicking through photographs and having their associated memories come to mind.

I guess the main reason I love photography is because everyone has a story. Every life has value. I love seeing the faces of my younger family members as they flick through albums and see photos of themselves. I love how happy it makes them that someone else sees them as valuable, sees that the story of their life is worth recording, worth documenting. That the life they lead is full of stories worth telling. For me, photography is the way that I tell my story.