Dad was the photographer in our house and I mean steeped in photography ~ not so much obsessed with equipment but a student of the subject.
He was bed bound for the last ten months of his long life in 2010 and it was only then that I started to take a few shots as a way of bringing the natural world that he loved so much into his room.
He had dementia but mercifully he retained the analytical part of his brain and was delighted to be able to advise me about aspects of taking photos.
It was on evenings like this that I would bring down five or six photos for him to critique and he spread them out carefully on his bed and assess each of them like an external examiner. I would wait for his comments like a young student and know that I would get the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth from him. He always believed in being honest when it came to teaching but he always managed to find some redeeming features, to use one of his favourite turns of phrase.
He’s very much on my mind tonight as his 97th birthday would have been tomorrow (June 10th).
I was looking through some recent shots and wondering which ones I would have brought down to him for our birthday chat. These are the ones that jumped out at me:
I’m not a bit sure which one he’d like the best but I know we’d have a good laugh over them as I was put through my paces!