This picture was taken a little less than a year before he passed away in 2010 after a battle with cancer. At the time this picture was taken he had lost quite a bit of weight, his hair had gotten a bit thinner and grayer (is that a word?), but he was relatively happy, all things considered. I must say, he was still pretty good looking guy right up to the end.
In this picture he is standing in front of the Atlantic ocean in his home town of St. Augustine, Florida, at a condo that he and my Mom had rented for their 31st wedding anniversary weekend while they were on what turned out to be their last trip to Florida together (they went every two years). If you knew my Dad you would know that getting him to pose for a picture was a next to impossible thing unless you could get a few drinks into him first! But when I look at this picture I don't see the usual look of disdain that is common whenever someone "stuck a camera in his damn face," as he used to say. Rather, when I look at this picture I see peace. Peace for a man who left his family, friends, and country behind for the love of a woman who lived in the Great White North. Peace for a man who had grown up a wealthy potato farmer only to see crop disease and drought ruin the family farm, loosing everything. And peace for a man who worked twelve hour shifts at a pulp mill for 30 years only to develop cancer as a reward. It's funny/ironic to me that it can sometimes take a terminal illness for one to find peace in their life.
Anyways, to tie this back to art. I find it fascinating how one simple picture can tell such a detailed and unique story. Its crazy, really, how a picture can take you on a journey as far as you will let it take you and that each person who sees that picture is likely to be taken somewhere completely different. I know this picture of my Dad may not be the best example of different interpretations of art, but it is personal to me. When I see it I don't just see a picture but rather a life story.
In closing, this is my favorite picture that I have ever taken. I am not a photographer at all and I took this picture when I was 16 on one of those old Kodiak disposable camera's. I scanned the original copy years ago when scanners weren't s good as they are now, but I think it still holds up well. It is special to me as it captures a moment in time that I always cherished, and still do. Standing on the dock on the Saint John's river with my Dad, barely speaking a word, waiting for the fish to bite.
