There is a shoebox in my closet filled with black and white images of my forebears. I identify some of my folks by handwriting scribbled on the back of their photo; some simply smile back at me with my son’s square jaw or my mother’s eyes. I never tire of seeing these moments frozen in time. My 8-year-old father proudly holding a Minnesota catfish as he squints against the sun. The tender, fresh face of my grandmother as she cradled her first-born. My great grandparents standing in front of the one-room cabin where they lived . . . without electricity.
Moments are what I strive to capture with my camera. The sweet anticipation of an expectant mother, the wondrous beginning of life in a newborn, the joyful innocence of childhood, the easy tangle of a family.
The stories captured in the single click of my shutter.