My grandfather made this necklace piece. He was an artist in almost every genre. He painted, he sculpted. He was a photographer.
It is sad to me that just about the time I began to get into photography in my early 30’s, my grandfather was setting his camera down after probably 70 years of artistic use.
That is what is so unnatural about ageing and dying.
By the time I was ready to embark on this journey through the lense, he had finished his. It would have been nice to share it. Doesn’t it make more logical sense that we were meant to share these like journeys with the blood that makes up who we are?