I recently attended the funeral of a beloved family member. He was buried on the farm where he grew up, carried by his seven brothers in a homemade coffin, and his father asked me to take pictures.
I find that photographs start to sort out the incomprehensible, and taking photographs helps me to contain grief and horror, but I was surprised to find that his family thought so, too. I hadn’t brought my camera but was able to borrow a point-and-shoot.
I was grateful to bend my mind to working, and finding photographs, and giving the family what I could. I can’t find the words, but I have the pictures.
these are touching.
I love the stained hands and the shovels.
thank you for sharing.
These are very powerful photos. They are a return to your earlier work wherein you did not show any faces. They are stark, yet full of emotion. They made me cry.