Dear reader,
Trigger warning, today’s essay includes sentiments around a grandparent passing.
I have five cameras on display on my wooden bookshelf just off to my right. They have come into my possession in different ways. One was a gift from M — a welcome back to film photography. Two of them are digital cameras I had growing up. I gifted myself my Olympus XA-2 35mm film camera. An easy point-and-shoot that I carry with me nearly everywhere. And the last one, a Kodak Keystone 8mm movie camera. That one sits inside a boxy, brown leather camera bag with the word “Kodak” embossed in gold on the bottom right. It belonged to my grandfather, a gift from my grandmother after he passed.
My grandfather (Nonno) had the exact personality you would expect from someone named Angelo. He was opinionated. He was hot-headed. He sneezed incredibly too loud (he always blamed it on hay fever). He took fish oil pills. And loved potato chips. He was also gentle. Always taking me to get ice cream as a kid. And always ready to watch a movie when he babysat me.
It sometimes isn’t until after someone passes you realize the role they played in your life. It took me a long time to understand my grief after the phone call I received near midnight on January 1, 2020. Me and my grandfather didn’t have the type of relationship where we talked much on the phone. We didn’t share particularly meaningful conversations at Sunday dinner. We had tremendously different political values that sometimes made it infuriating to be around each other. My grief was slow. Sadness didn’t come immediately. My life moved on with little interruption.
As more and more holidays come and go, the hole he left becomes wider and wider. Five years after his passing and on the day of his birthday (yesterday), I now feel the long-awaited, and much-anticipated sadness. In the 1,825 days I have had to process the turmoil of feelings left by the absence of him, I see my Nonno as the one who held all of our stories. Even when I was tired of hearing them, he never failed to miss any detail in his retelling of them (and didn’t listen or simply didn’t care when you told him you already heard it). I can vividly picture him as a child getting chased by a chicken in Italy. And taste the Hershey’s chocolate bar he claimed an American soldier handed him.
His Canon AE-1 35mm film camera is perfectly stored in his camera bag in my closet. The sixth camera in my collection. It’s stored just the way he left it — with a fancy strap, a broken tripod, and the original receipt. Pulling it out, removing the lens cap, and holding it up to my eye, I wonder how many stories he and his camera saw together. My grandmother’s photo albums are filled with many of them. Documenting my mom and my aunt. The trips they took back to Italy. Niagara Falls. His life. His stories.
The crossover between my passions and his now seems uncanny. After all the years, it’s surprising we never had the opportunity to bond over them. Whether he would have found the same inspiration in those conversations as I would have, I will never know. I feel affirmed believing his stories are now my stories. A privilege bestowed upon me that I now have the honor to hold. His old camcorder is still in my grandmother's procession. It will become the next addition to my collection. A camera I told her I’d come back for when I was ready.
Lauren
NEW VIDEO
I combined two totally random memories and brought them together in one art print. Watch my creative workflow here →
Call Us What We Carry by Amanda Gorman
This book is still lingering in my thoughts. I hope to find/read more like it this year.
I made this yesterday, and it’s so good!
The new typography report
Embracing the beginnings: Even when you’ve “made it” before
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Love to your 💜, Lauren. Thx for sharing your memories with us.
I didn’t know until after my father died that he’d once worked in a photo studio. I loved taking photos and had gone back to take classes after art school. My dad never said anything. But one of my memories of him was how he was always the picture-taker in the family. I have a box of slides that he took that somehow made their way to me. Anyway, I wish we’d at least have had a conversation or two about photography. Big hugs to you. 🥰