These are moments I filmed during a journey we made together several years ago to our homeland, New Zealand. The sound of Dad's laughter is a heartfelt burst of uninhibited sound. It’s not something one can preserve in writing.
This past Saturday, a friend told me that only after her father passed away did she really start to get to know who he was. She began hearing stories about him, learning who he was, but everything was from others’ points of view. Not what he chose to share. No picture. No presence.
In recent years, my father has been dealing with memory loss. Slowly but surely. The main challenge seems to be for us who are close to him. These processes are long and irreversible. Luckily, photography is my profession, and I’ve had the chance to film my father a lot over the years. So I have documentation from times when he was more present, and I was therefore fortunate enough to hear and record him retelling his life story. And also laughing with his unique laugh, of course, that everyone who knows him loves.
Suggest to your own parents to make a film. There’s nothing like seeing them on screen. The process of making their film with me is an emotional journey, an inward journey.
Something awakens along the way.
The story takes shape.
The personality is revealed.
In the portrait films I create, I give your loved ones the opportunity to tell their story in the way they choose. Even without words—through laughter, tears, longing, and excitement.
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