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Photos of my father
He complained I was not picturing him pretty enough.
My father introduced me to photography. He had a silver rangefinder (not a Leica), a tiny tripod, and a mechanical release. Later, he upgraded to a Minolta SLR with the traditional three-lens set. It still works today. He documented everything about our family and collected it in bound albums. Those had cellophane between pages to protect the prints.
His camera had a brown leather half case, which made changing film a pain. I searched for weeks a year ago until I found a similar one for my current mirrorless camera. They are still impractical because now I cannot change the batterie, but feel oh so right.
His latest camera has autofocus and zoom. He is out once a week, and some of his photographs have been exhibited to the public. This was never by a commercial gallery, but companies sponsored annual events for their employees back in the day. He won second prize several times and could take the large framed prints home as a reward. Those now adorn our stairwell and living room.
Since he had all these prints of me as a child, I started to take pictures of him. No more than one or two a year whenever we see each other. Mostly to try out exposures or to finish a role of film.
