Click on the cover to view the book… and click your way through the pages.

The little book tool is pretty simple and if for any reason you can’t view it, let me know. It isn’t suitable for small screens at the moment, but any smaller and it would not be readable anyway. It’s difficult to effectively show a book online.

The physical version is 12 x 12 inches, hard cover and 52 pages.

I was having a discussion with a friend about childhood and the time in our lives which shapes us the most. We talked about our grandparents’ failing memories; How they seem to lose most of them but those from a certain point in childhood remain vivid.

In my childhood photos I can hardly recognise myself. I got used to the images of me as a child smiling. But around the forced expressions I see a little boy I didn’t used to think was really me. As time goes by I’m beginning to feel that maybe these images are the only ones I’m really in. Though it’s difficult to know as by the time I sort through these thoughts and put them into words, I forget why I’m doing it.

I don’t have many vivid memories of my grandfather. I sometimes wonder if I had photographed him, would it feel different to look at the pictures? Would I feel more connected?

Even seeing myself in images as a child, I don’t feel a sense of familiarity. So it seems like a struggle to feel familiar with my ancestors in old photographs.

Prior to the invention of photography, was there a deeper sense of struggle for remembrance? Hearing stories, maybe even seeing and touching belongings or creations, must surely not have yielded such strong feelings of connectedness. Or perhaps the need to make significant use of one’s imagination might have resulted in a greater sense of fulfilment.

Perhaps the more clues to knowing a person, through the viewing of a photograph, the more questions that arise.

I used to imagine what it would be like being one of those kids at school who had shifted house six times, changed schools, swapped friends and started over. I never thought my family would move as they enjoyed the comfort of familiarity and stability.

When we moved to a new house I was 16 so it was not really like those kids I had observed. But looking back I notice changes in feeling. Houses became more modern. Everything became clean, bright and white. My new home felt more open and less like a cocoon of safety.

I see more of my childhood home in my mother’s childhood home. I never lived there but it still has that feeling which reminds me…well not of anything specifically. There’s just an overwhelming sense of feeling reminded.

The wallpaper is discoloured, becoming brown in parts. Even where some has broken away revealing a whiter wall, it still feels homely. The patterns on the wallpaper seem to be of endless variety. Tiling, lining, skirting… There appears almost endless details.

At 98 years old my grandmother could no longer look after herself and finally had to leave her house. Her husband, Neville, died about 10 years ago. He was a carpenter and built the house himself.

It was also home to my mother and her four sibilings. I remember going to many family get-togethers with the extended family.

It still has the same feel; the same atmosphere. The bulk of my memories of the house are from when I was quite young. As I am the youngest of the generation, most family had grown up and moved on. So gatherings here were scarce in more recent years. Therefore, in my mind I held onto a more childlike image of the house.

Taking the time to walk in and out of each room slowly, thinking about who had once lived there and how each room was used, I noticed much more. Viewing through the lens, without the aid of the wonderfully advanced human eye, darkness is enhanced and the light seems to have more a physical presence.

My grandmother, Ivy, may have had to move on, but the house still remains. Hopefully it does so at least for her lifetime. Her memory fails her in the present but she still describes vividly the distant past. There are so many more memories in between and so many to be found in the house that Neville built.

I wonder what it would be like lying alone in the room where your daughters first slept 60 years ago. All the time in the world to think. Wondering what your daughters are thinking now that their own daughters have left. Would you keep the curtains closed some days?

It seems the more a house ages the more colour appears. Carpets fray; floors scuff; walls fade; benches stain; door handles become worn. Yet it’s more than this. There’s a remnance filled with the traces of those who have lived within the spaces. There’s an aura filled with the human emotions pieced together over time. There’s an atmosphere filled with colour.

Some Feedback

Email from: Sasha_Ann (sasha_colchane@yahoo.com)
Date: 18 June 2010 14:05
Subject: Photo story

Your Grandmother could’ve stayed in her home if you or someone had unselfishly thought to care for her.
Now she’s gone and you think you can cash in on her ‘art-’life’ lol.

My reply to Sasha_Ann’s unreachable email address…

Hi Sasha,

My grandmother lived alone for many years after her husband died. She did very well for herself but with time needed more assistance. She has five children and they all did their bit in looking after her. Her many grandchildren also lended a hand. As well as this she had nurses assist her. Her neighbours too. She was unselfishly cared for every day.

After many health scares including falls resulting in nervous hospital stays, doctors recommended my grandmother have full time professional care. She and her supportive family eventually agreed to the advice.

She is much happier today and always talks about what a great place she is now in.

I have never made a cent from the images I took of her house. I put the images together into a book and gave it to her. I often visit her with my mother and we show her the book again. Some days she recognises a few of the images and it brings a smile to her face. Unfortunately her memory fails to serve her well in her old age and she has trouble remembering anything but her childhood.

Next month she turns 100. I’ll be sure to take many photographs at the occasion and I will have no qualms in showing others and not feeling selfish or that I am cashing in.

Pete.