It started with my father’s camera. His tool of photographic choice from ‘71 until he passed the camera on to me in the mid-'90s. It introduced both of us to photography. I loaded a 36-roll of slide film (our preferred stock) and proceeded to shoot images I thought reflective of our relationship to each other and the medium. Resulting in a mix of still life and diorama-like rephotography. I picked out 37 secondhand frames to contain the images for display. A combination of approaches was utilized in digitizing and printing the images: full-bleed or a wider view showing the slide case and a colored border. It became “Dad’s Camera.”
Then I got to work. Wanting to better accentuate the false objectivity present in the photographic medium, I took it one step further. Imitating the clustered arrangements of family photos on my parents' walls, I highlighted one of the framed pieces of “Dad’s Camera”. I arranged complementary pieces around it, then digitally documented it. I then took it down and rearranged it eleven more times. The twelve pieces of documentation were printed, flush-mounted, and arranged in a grid.
The reality depicted in the images is superficial, susceptible to casual observation revealing inconsistency in the content. Like memory, the core narrative appears intact but may be less coherent or reliable upon inspection. “Documentation of ’Dad’s Camera’” is a love letter to my father in the wake of his fading memory; done in a way that reflects the current state of our post-fact culture. I also used the opportunity to investigate the role of photography as advancing technology allows it to distort reality convincingly.
What does it mean when a consensus of reality becomes progressively more difficult to identify?
What is the role of these works when my own memory starts to fade?