Great post and thanks for the introduction to Colin's work.
It makes me think about what it means to photograph grief. I am currently traveling the US, a year after my daughter's death. I find myself photographing vast skies or forests, or the ocean. Places where I feel connected to my daughter's spirit. Others might just see pictures of landscapes; to me they're pictures of my grief.
Before I read your words I studied the image of your mother. I love the wave in her hair and how it leads the eye to her left shoulder and then to the right shoulder, forming the foundation of her lightly curved or angled posture. I can only imagine that she is standing in the way one might balance themselves in repose but ready for movement—or as a boxer? I see the feminine narrative, the universality of loss and grief in these gentle lines and in the soft altar of camellias. She has that attitude of still-standing surrender to love and beauty in all its forms, because it is this relinquishing that outlasts life’s impermanence. I’m sorry if I’ve said too much but I love the image and your words. There is so much here in this sweet portrait.
Colin was my dissertation supervisor at uni. It was an incredible pleasure to speak with him throughout the academic year and since leaving my admiration for him and his work and mentality to it has only grown, this series is a testament to that.
Great post Andy. Really enjoyed the read about Colin and seeing the work (some of which I've seen before but having the post provides meaningful context for it).
Thank you Andy for sharing Colin's work and his lovely words and photos of his mother. I love your newsletter, I'm not a photographer but find such inspiration in reading about the lives and works of your chosen artists.
Quite stunning, the last photo. The woman does not do much, she is not crying or in any dynamic pose, but it feels you can feel the grief just from her face. Her expression, her wrinkles, the black and white—they just all seem to radiate emotion. It even feels like with her eyes closed, she may be imagining the deceased.
Wow! Such wonderful, moving words by Colin. Thank you for sharing!
Great post and thanks for the introduction to Colin's work.
It makes me think about what it means to photograph grief. I am currently traveling the US, a year after my daughter's death. I find myself photographing vast skies or forests, or the ocean. Places where I feel connected to my daughter's spirit. Others might just see pictures of landscapes; to me they're pictures of my grief.
Love your newsletter.
Hello Colin:
Before I read your words I studied the image of your mother. I love the wave in her hair and how it leads the eye to her left shoulder and then to the right shoulder, forming the foundation of her lightly curved or angled posture. I can only imagine that she is standing in the way one might balance themselves in repose but ready for movement—or as a boxer? I see the feminine narrative, the universality of loss and grief in these gentle lines and in the soft altar of camellias. She has that attitude of still-standing surrender to love and beauty in all its forms, because it is this relinquishing that outlasts life’s impermanence. I’m sorry if I’ve said too much but I love the image and your words. There is so much here in this sweet portrait.
Colin was my dissertation supervisor at uni. It was an incredible pleasure to speak with him throughout the academic year and since leaving my admiration for him and his work and mentality to it has only grown, this series is a testament to that.
The ability to capture loss is a profound one...grief and acceptance are both vying for attention in these poignant photos.
This is beautiful, thanks for sharing Colin’s words and images. There is so much texture in both photos of his mother.
Great post Andy. Really enjoyed the read about Colin and seeing the work (some of which I've seen before but having the post provides meaningful context for it).
This is incredibly beautiful. I love it
Beautiful photograph and commenary. Thanks.
Thank you Andy for sharing Colin's work and his lovely words and photos of his mother. I love your newsletter, I'm not a photographer but find such inspiration in reading about the lives and works of your chosen artists.
You write that "for reasons I can’t explain, I have always loved rear-view portraits." This article may aid your understanding: https://www.artsy.net/article/artsy-editorial-mysterious-appeal-art-depicts-figures. The Rückenfigur technique has a long and powerful history in the arts.
So powerful.
Quite stunning, the last photo. The woman does not do much, she is not crying or in any dynamic pose, but it feels you can feel the grief just from her face. Her expression, her wrinkles, the black and white—they just all seem to radiate emotion. It even feels like with her eyes closed, she may be imagining the deceased.
Really well done.