Some say that print is a long gone artifact of the past, but I say it's a artifact of nostalgia that needs to be cared for and kept as heirlooms for future generations.
When clients hire me to take their photos, I love them for it. When clients purchase prints from me, I love them even more (and it's not because of the money). Honestly, it's the sentimental value photos carry. When a client loves their photos enough to have them printed, means more to me than you'd expect. It means that a piece of that moment captured on my camera will be hanging up on their walls, given as gifts to loved ones, and passed down to their children.
Lately, I've been thinking a lot about how photography has evolved and how I have evolved with my work. Sometimes I try not to think too hard about it, but when I'm making my way through each folder of thousands of photos in search of that one photo or one memory I swore I had, I can't help to think of how important a single photo can have.
For the longest time in the corner of my work desk in my studio apartment, I kept one of the last photographs of me with my abuelita from the time we spent together in Rosarito, Mexico. It was one of the most memorable times with my abuelita.
What I want to get across here is that photos are meant to be seen. They're not meant to be kept locked up on your computer (or your camera--OMG), when they can be seen for others to admire, or even if it is for you to look back on and reminisce on.
Often times we sit on photos just hanging out on our hard drives and they never see the light of day, which I can be totally guilty of this as well. Making time to make prints and push myself to frame them and hang them up can be a production at times (especially if I'm working on a gallery wall). But the rewards are plentiful when I can see the photos hanging; a tiny glimpse of a beautiful memory that can suck me back into that moment in time where I can feel the breeze on my face and the scent of the ocean spray as I stare off into the photo I took from our vacation trip to the California central coast.
Sometimes it's not as poetic, but rather a simple memory of a loved one who is no longer with us or a furry baby who was the best "good girl" you ever had and you can still remember how soft and fluffy her fur was by just looking at a single photograph.
Honestly, I can go on and on about this topic. But I think you get the picture.
So, let them be seen. Let their stories remain heard, and let them live.