Looking through old black-and-white photographs of relatives and family friends has always had a sacred meaning for me. I love old, cracked gelatin-silver prints, created by masters of their craft and carefully preserved as a “long memory” by those who are truly near and dear to us. As time goes by, people come and go. Our ancestors pass away, living on only in our memories and in the fragile pieces of paper that miraculously outlast those depicted on them. I still remember the names of some people in the photos, but all our memories will fade with time. Old photos are not only rare and beautiful; they are also no longer just memories of individuals – they somehow become memories of nations, of countries, sometimes showing us long-lost history. Watercolor painting over these photos helps preserve them from decay, at least for now.
