I’m not a historical photographer, though some of my pictures do contain elements of history.
I guess I’ve always sensed that carrying a camera meant that I had something of a responsibility to document the life and times going on around me. I suppose that’s why photojournalism felt like a good fit for me.
Thirty years ago when I was a young photographer in Ohio, I often made photographs like the one you see above. I had been shooting a holiday parade -- it was either Memorial Day or the Fourth of July, at this point I can’t remember which -- and I got to talking with a gentleman who’d marched in the parade wearing his World War I uniform. I somehow had a sense that this fellow’s home probably was a link with the past, much like his uniform. After the parade I asked if I could walk home with him and maybe take a few photographs there. He was kind enough to allow me to do that.
Last week I was back in Ohio visiting my mom. Though many years have passed since my initial visual explorations there, I felt that small Ohio towns still had a visual link with history that I don’t see where I live now in the Pacific Northwest. I suppose that’s because the Northwest was settled much more recently than Ohio, where even abandoned factories seem to have stories to tell.
