Home in Indiana
Another journey back home in the digital books.
Each frame is a memory bank, of experiences, of moments, of humans. All of us growing through the journey as we walk this life that does not stop. We have all aged. We have all stumbled. We have all blossomed. Some of us did not make the aging turn, and some of us still here ignore the seeds where the blossoming comes from.
Regardless of the land miles and digital distances…our communications build through images. From strangers meeting for the first time to shoot or friends who know my preschool pasts.
This trip gave me a glimpse into photography I had not known. My own family imagery, of coal mining and farming. A documentation of my ancestry in physical memories. Letters written and ledger books kept, archiving my family’s history has given me an opportunity to see the dialogue possibilities when we tell our own family and community stories. Not only a learning lesson of self, on self, but a vivid historical picture of the headlines our history books aim after.
Not many families may carry the physical copies of their history. Some may not be able to begin the research to find their ancestor’s lights again. Though, today we can capture our stories of today. Bringing life to the memories of children that grow too quickly, and capturing the light of landscapes that change every season. We can begin by telling the story of our own todays.
These were all captured spur of the moment, me chasing kids through nature and ball parks, no planning, only documenting. Children in a natural setting to bring out their natural happiness. Through many years I have captured frames of these children growing…one photo shoot at a time, one journey home at a time.
I am thankful for these moments—moments to create and to be.
