For Memory's Sake

There is something disturbing and yet relatable about the rate at which Angela Singer produces photographs. It's inspiring to see someone willing to photograph constantly. It's hard to push myself to photograph daily and as much as I try, I often forget or feel unmotivated to even pick up my camera. I was told by a prominent photo instructor of mine that I should practice my craft at least 15 minutes a day and at times it feels impossible to even do that. It's refreshing to see someone who's camera is never far from their reach. If you are going to capture a more honest version of reality, though, you almost need that constant interaction. As her granddaughter pointed out, the camera was pretty much a part of her grandma and they never really saw her without it. I'm sure after years, everyone accepted that photos would be taken regardless of how they reacted. In my own family, everyone tends to tense up whenever a camera is brought out. I found it interesting that she used photography to cope with life and as an escape. Her identity became defined by her photographs and allowed for her to control small moments of her life. I respect that.

Singer's photographs are important because of their honesty and intimacy. They bring our attention to all the small details of life that people take for granted. They show all the small precious, and at times terrible, moments of a person's life that most forget about. They have the innocent, honesty of a family's 35mm snapshots which adds to their intimate quality. You could imagine just getting prints back from Walgreens or another 1-hour photo developer and sitting down with a close friend or relative to look at the photos and reminisce about the times. That same sort of feel was present during the section of the film showing the gallery of her work. In a world accosted with constantly retouched photographs, Angela Singer provides us with this beautiful bank of images fresh from her camera, documenting life and all it's idiosyncrasies and peculiarities.