End of Memories (Should I Smile)
The intimate connection between photography and death is inherent. Much has been written on the subject. I’ve read some. I get the idea: depending on how long it takes my photographs to reach the garbage can, they will outlive me. Since 1964, through the best of times and the not so great, photography has been a constant companion. I’ve employed photography to illustrate my life journey, and consequently, as a lens to contemplate the illusive meaning of it all. Since the arrival of my seventieth birthday, the imminence of death has become a preoccupation. Not death in the macabre sense, but death as a reminder to live. I have vivid impressions of what my younger self looked like because my parents memorialized significant milestones with photographs. When I began making my own pictures the documentation continued. Consequently, I have a relatively comprehensive visual record of my journey through the world since 1953. Appreciating that I have no control over where and how my journey will end, this portfolio presents idealized scenarios. Ironically, staging death suggests maintaining control - an illusion, of course.