As I was kneeling, rummaging through old maps, vintage postcards and women’s magazines from a by-gone era, I came across, tucked into a French Larousse encyclopedia, a few pages ripped from a vintage family scrapbook. Sometimes I find paper treasures at vide greniers and brocantes (French flea
A Vintage Family Scrapbook
Normally, I’m not interested in other people’s family portraits. However, I must say that I’m captivated by the young girl and what I presume to be her father. I love the tryptic of the young girl reading above and the other repetitive images of the girl and her father sitting in bed below. I wonder if the mother was the photographer? She doesn’t seem to appear in the photographs. I wonder if it was her who carefully pressed the daisies onto the pages…
I admire the love that went into these found fragments and how personal the images feel. It’s as if we’re really looking into the lives of this family; their best outfits mixed in with candid moments, as well as where, and how, they lived.
Every year at Christmas, I print photos from the previous year. Printing the photos for some reason makes them more real to me and is a habit that shouldn’t be lost.