Photo Rebel

There are few things in life that measure up to the power of the “photograph”. I find it amazing how memories can be captured in a split second. A moment in time frozen forever. Photographs often tell a story or convey an emotion like virtually no other media format can. I love how a series of photographs take you through a journey and you get to relive happy and sad moments on life’s long road (although the road seems to be getting shorter as I get older).

Photographs are hugely important! At least to me anyway… I am fortunate that my mother took so many pictures of the family when we were kids. We have literally thousands of negatives of our entire history in Africa. About 13 years ago I purchased a professional negative scanner (Nikon Cool Scan III) to digitally capture our life’s journey. This was way before I took photography seriously, but in a sense, it was the beginning of the road I am now on. As I scanned the photographs, it was like watching a replay of our lives in slow motion. I can remember how home sick I felt when I scanned images of the farm that I grew up on as a kid. I could remember the happy days that we spent at Lake McIlwaine in Zimbabwe where I used to go sailing. I remembered what our lives were like during the Rhodesian war. I remembered the happy times spent with the family on our holidays. And I remembered the sadness at the loss of my brother Bradley.

Photographs like these are extremely precious and will never be relived again. Organizing a vast collection of photographs into date order quickly reveals huge gaps of time where there are no photographs at all! There were years where I didn’t have a single photograph of myself. I’ve learnt that you just need to keep taking photographs (all the time). For a lot of people we all know how it goes… you buy a camera, you take lots of pictures until you get bored of it; and then don’t take any more pictures until it’s someone’s birthday. Simply put, you just need to keep taking photos. Every time I take a photograph of a family member, I find myself saying how precious that image will probably become in time.

Since I’ve started on my photography journey, I’ve often come across folk who have little or no regard for the value of a photograph. There’s nothing wrong with this… each to their own… but a part of me does wonder if it will come back to bite them as time goes by.

Very sadly my father passed away in May of this year. As I reflect on the impact he’s had in my life, I’m glad I have so many photographs of the times we shared as I grew up. I’m glad that I became a photographer. I’m glad I have precious photographs which I will remember him by. Few people have achieved as much in their lifetime as my father did. He became a pilot, revolutionized commercial fishing in Southern Africa; and started a business on 60 Rhodesian Dollars and grew the business to the point that every milk bottle sold in Zimbabwe was milked with his milking machines. My father’s achievements in life are many — he did everything in life he wanted to. An achievement in its own right. But most of all, he was a loving father.

As I write this blog post, it reminds of a post that Joe McNally posted some time ago. Taking a picture of a feeling (link) and his feedback response (link).

I’m so glad that I became a photographer… I get the privilege to capture memories of loved ones…

Below are a few photographs of our family’s history.

This is a picture of my Grand Father at their home in 1931. My Grand Father and his two brothers were early pioneers in Southern Rhodesia. They arrived in 1901 from the Boer War, originally from London. They were part of the team to build the infrastructure of Rhodesia. The home shown in the picture was my mothers first home.

This is my Grand Father's car travelling with the family.

This is my mother when she was 18 years old when she was staying with her Grand Mother.

My Father at 23 years old when he immegrated to Rhodesia.

My Father next to his aeroplane getting ready for a trip to Mozambique to spend a weekend on Paradise Island.

The family travelling to Durban, South Africa for a holiday next to the sea. In the picture is my brother standing next to the car and there's me sitting in the back peering out the window.

Visiting my sister near the Zambian border at the Umfolozi river near Mushimbi Pools.

Me with my brother and sister. It was common during the war to carry a gun wherever you went.

My brother often travelled on company business to various farms. He attached the gun to the truck as a means to protect himself from terroist attack during the war.

The family was invited to visit the local chief and he gave us a chicken to take home for dinner. That's me sitting next to the chief...

A fly over the Lake Kariba dam wall. My father was in charge of the fishing fleet for what was the largest man made lake at that time.

My father inspecting a new milking machine installation that was manufactured by his business..

This is a photograph of me at 9 years old soon after my brother Bradley had died.

Me with my father at Lake Kariba.

Me a few years later aged 17 years old. Visiting Worlds View at Inyanga with a betamax video camera.

My father helping me test out a new lighting technique early during my photography study.

My father again helping me out by posing for a photograph.

This was one of my father's favourite photographs of himself which I took one Sunday lunch time.

Both my parents helping me out by posing for a photograph.

My favourite photograph of my father. This shows what he was like. He liked cooking in the kitchen and always wore his apron. The books behind him are also very fitting as he was always very studious.