In a box somewhere on my brothers attic, there should be a pile of photo albums that once belonged to our mother. Since she was the kind of person who never threw anything away, in one of those albums there should be a series of images documenting our father's carpentry work.
- Those images are probably my earliest work.
And what's odd about them is that in my head I knew I was on an assignment of great documentary proportions. I had set off to take the first steps a journalistic career, portraying a man (my father) who had taken on the job of building a new house for him and his family.
But the images are neither of him or his work, but of still details. A 'point & shoot' style of all I found interesting at the time. A hammer. A ladder. Some nails. A cat. My guess is that in all that chaos a family goes through when building a home, I must have found peace in the details.
The other day we had snowfall here on the island. It happens maybe once a year and when it does it is an odd spectacle.
It is calm and chaotic. Everybody's fascinated by the snow and rushes off into the Tramuntanas to catch a moment that we all know will be gone in the blink of an eye. But this is an island in the middle of the Mediterranean, and people simply don't know how to drive up those snowy roads. In fact, they don't care. So there's cars everywhere. And while the police tries to close roads off, workers try to plow the worst bits, but they don't know how to drive either so it doesn't really make any difference.
In short, it is a mess.
But it's also beautiful. And quiet once you start walking. And the memory of my 'earliest work' comes to mind when I go through the photos I took that afternoon. Because to my surprise they are all still details. It's a 'point & shoot' scenario. A house. A tree. A gate. My dog.
I don't remember shooting it that way. I do remember I always find peace in the details.