I took the long trip to see my ailing grandfather to try to get an image that would describe him, and the unnameable something he passed on to my father and me. Rumor had it that his mind and body were slipping, so I had planned to take a striking photo of a man who no longer recognized me. Instead I was given the gift of recognition. There he was, his old mischief, his sunken wisdom. What’s more, I saw my own father know that for the first time in more than a year, he was remembered by his father. It was a momentary thing. Me watching my father, my father watching his, and his father sharing a stare with his son and the old Olympus lens that makes the fleeting permanent.
Photographer: Robert Josiah Bingaman
Robert is an artist living in Kansas City, America.
