MEMORY and EXPECTATIONS

Don't Ignore What You See Today

  If Time Travel ever becomes a reality, the first trip I’d take would be back to 1960. I was five years old then, and living in Central New Brunswick, Canada. The village in which I lived was surrounded by farms, nestled in amongst the rolling hills. Open fields went on for miles, used for grazing cattle, or hay for winter feeding. Along the edges of the fields were rows of rocks that acted as fences to mark property boundaries and prevent grazing cows and horses from escaping. These fences were not the neatly squared off rock walls one sees in the U.K., rather just piled up a few feet high, dug from the ground as the land was cleared in the previous century.
  By 1960 there were trees growing in these rock fences; Oaks, Maples, Elm, Birches, mostly in single rows, often with gaps between them, through which one could see the farm next door. I remember walking along these fences and stopping in the shade of a tall tree for a snack or soft drink.
 
I have very specific memories of those fields; the farmers would mow the hay, bale it, and store it high in the rafters of their barns to feed their livestock during the long winter months. I remember tapping the Maple trees in early Spring for sap that would be boiled down to Maple Syrup. I remember the sun highlighting the Autumn colours and the warmth when it shone on the fresh Spring buds. I remember one day when two cousins and I walked on the rocks and came upon the quills and bones of several dead porcupines. Those fields, trees, and rocks are etched into my memory as firmly as if a sculptor had carved them there.
  If Time Travel ever becomes a reality, the first trip I’d take would be back to 1960, and I would photograph those trees and rock fences, so I could see them as they were then, not as they are now. For now they are overgrown, the rocks no doubt fallen to the ground, pushed over by the ever-expanding tree trunks as they grew larger, year after year. The fields themselves no longer mowed or maintained, no vegetables grow and no cattle graze. Farming is no longer a lucrative business for Maritime families. Alders, Spruce and Fir trees, now occupy the fields. In some places, driving by, it is difficult to tell the difference between the fields and the forests.
  As a boy, it was more important to pursue boyhood activities in those fields and treelines than it was to document them on film. Committing them to memory is easy, but only available to the individual to whose memory they are committed; one cannot share those memories unless with one who was also there.
 
Even where I now live, I have seen great changes in the landscape. My wife used to pick blueberries in an open area behind our house. I could stand in the upstairs window and watch her as she filled her containers. Today, over thirty years later, the Blueberries no longer grow there, having been replaced by Alders and Spruce trees as well. At the edge of our lawn, Striped Maple trees and a Balsam Poplar have reached heights of several meters, blocking the view of even the place where she picked.
  Again, if I could travel back in time, I’d take a few snapshots of her picking berries in a once wide open space that is now overgrown and inaccessible.
 
I think one of the greatest challenges we face as Photographers is letting go of the overwhelming belief that every image must be a “Portfolio” shot. I believe we often walk past many places that in years to come we will wish we’d captured an image of. After all, what we see today will look totally different in twenty years or more, and we may wish we could return to these days and re-live them through our photographs. Isn’t that at the very heart of Photography… to capture the moments?
  For me, seeing old snapshots opens a flood of memories, and I remember not only the place, but the sounds, scents, and emotions of that time. My good friend Mike Fleet took an image of me one day, standing on the bank of the Saint John River in Fredericton. That would have been around 1979 or so, and the old Carleton Street bridge is in the background. Today the shoreline is completely different; the bridge is gone, replaced by one further upriver. Where I had stood on that day is now a highway with a landscaped green space and walking/cycling trails behind it. If Mike hadn’t taken that shot, that day might have faded from my memory like so many other days have.
  So when my friends with young children tell me their child is interested in Photography, I am supportive and encourage the parents to be supportive as well. When a ten or sixteen year old person reaches their sixties, the images they are taking now will remind them of these days, these places, and all the memories associated with them.
  As I write this, a seventy acre woodland park in Sydney NS is being “modified” to mitigate flood waters. The park we knew last month (literally) no longer exists, and those of us who took photos of the way it was, will be envied by those who did not take photos.
  So, please don’t think every shot must be a Portfolio shot. Take the shots you want to take of the places and people you want to remember. Someday you’ll thank yourself.

Until next week, keep your shutter finger warm and always remember to pack extra batteries. Thanks for dropping by!!

 

Published on 13 February 2022

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