Tell me a Story...

I took this shot last summer on a family vacation to Mount Greylock and it is one of my favorite shots from the year. I love the story it tells and how perfectly it captures the relationship between my daughter and my father-in-law.
These two have a one of a kind relationship. I have never met two people who are so involved with each other as they work together to craft worlds. They make up songs, laugh and scheme. Sometimes they remind me of mischievous campers playing pranks on their counselors. Other than my wife, no one can engage with my daughter as well as this man. His energy and flair for the dramatic can hold my daughter’s attention for hours. You can tell she is right there in the world with him, hanging on to every word, waiting for him to tell her more. To watch them is to see true love between a Grandfather and his Grandchild. I am happy that they have each other and I am grateful to be able to watch them together.

Photo by Matt Black (2019)

Grit & Grain

Recently I found a binder of old negatives from High School tucked away in my office. One of my favorite images,  I took it during my Junior year, features a homeless man, at least he appeared to be homeless, who sat on the steps of an old church on the Westside of Manhattan just above Hell’s Kitchen. I remember the cool Spring day, early in the morning; the dingy grey stairs and the warm simplicity of this man’s smile. His smile was easy and without manipulation. He seemed happy to let me take his picture and there was no ulterior motive. His expression was such a contrast to his presumed living situation and I felt compelled to capture the contrast.

At the time, I was toying with different film speeds in order to emulate texture within my images. This particular roll of film had an ASA of 1600, which established a grit and grain within my photos. It was the perfect film speed to capture the filth of the stairs, the worn wrinkles of this man’s face, the dirt-caked jacket- everything that stood in juxtaposition to that sweet and cheery smile.

Photo by Matt Black (1999)

Confidence

The story goes that my last name was inspired by my father’s attire. In the early 80’s my father worked as a Photographers rep and he would show up to a shoot wearing all Black. I have this crazy picture in my head of him walking into a studio wearing a turtleneck, leather pants, a pair of cowboy boots and of all the ridiculous accessories, a thin black cane. He was by every meaning of the word outwardly eccentric and if anyone could pull it off, it was my father. Little seemed to shake his confidence. I admired and adored that quality.

Later in life, my father rediscovered his love for taking pictures. He moved from New York to Florida and started his own photography business. He had been away from the field for a long time and hadn't seriously taken pictures in years but in his fifties, he was determined to make a living as a photographer. I watched him from afar as he taught himself new tricks and worked tirelessly to make a living. I was proud of him. At times, he seemed to have more energy than me. He was always moving from one gig to another- schmoozing with this client or that- never stopping; and he loved it. He loved the work and he loved the people.

Life in Florida, I’d assume, was not like New York in the 1980’s. My father no longer wore his black ensemble. First of all it would have been far too hot and besides, he had left that phase of his life in the past, save the name which he wore with pride. My father still liked to stand out. He would wear flashy Robert Graham designer shirts and faded jeans. As a photographer however, he would become known for his signature Cowboy hat. He wore it everywhere and it looked good on him. Most people would look silly. I looked silly every time I tried it on but for some reason, it fit him. He knew he looked good in that hat and so it became a truth. All it took was confidence.