Written words never made sense to dad as a child. Letters jumbled off the pages, morphed into shapes and pictures, became visualisations and plans for gadgets. At the age of 12 he built his own bike from bits and pieces, and the urge to fix and construct, rode away with him.Continue reading “Reading Between the Tiles – Cold Feet”
Continue reading “Photographing Elderly Parents, the ethics of”
Permission to take and use these photographs was essential from the outset. That required ensuring that my elderly parents understood how my images might be used – publicly on blogs and perhaps in print.
Dad holds up the clean magnifying glass. I’m on the floor photographing at weird angles to try and get a decent shot. What I end up with is a caricature of his nose. Usually this would be culled from my collection – I’m not one for keeping unflattering images of people – but it gives me some idea of the distortions he sees.Continue reading “Blogged Out of 2019”
Continue reading “Now I See … a bit”
My dad has macular degeneration and is going blind. As a photographer I’m trying to understand his condition through the use of my camera.
Continue reading “Staying Upright”
There was no manual. Most of it was self-explanatory, since the basic shell is familiar, but it’s those joints, and figuring out which screw goes in what order, that causes angst.
Continue reading “Remote Gardening”
The purchases were carefully placed into every available space of the car so there was no option but to shove our parents in at the last minute.