My Dad's Studio

How Photos Can Reveal Feelings
That Would Go Unnoticed Without Them

On this day, sadly, the purpose of our photoshoot was to capture some interior pictures to then post them next to the ‘for sale’ announcement. Even though my father wholeheartedly hates the idea, the whole family has been trying to persuade him to give up this property. Usually, he refuses to even have a discussion about this topic, but when I offered to take pictures, he agreed. On one of the last afternoons of my visit back home, my father picked my oldest daughter and me, and drove to this building to get the job done. We took the elevator to the 16th floor and then climbed up a couple of flights of stairs by foot to get to the last floor (according to the building plan, the elevators don’t go to the last floor, which is designated for the creative studios). As we entered the loft, memories of my childhood came pouring back to me, I remembered going there with my father and being mesmerized by all the uncommon objects I would find scattered in every corner; I'd run around, draw or paint, and play in the dust. I used to love it!

This time around, my daughter, who is the same age as I was when I used to visit this place as a child, was the one who loved running around and playing in the dust and being mesmerized by unusual items she found all around. Even while being there and taking the photographs, I failed to see this resemblance; I was so focused on getting the right angles to hide the clatter and finding enough light to take most salesy images, that I also failed to realize how sentimental this place was for me, how many special items were there that I would have loved to document with detailed shots.

Fortunately, I did capture the most important images I could have taken: my father and my daughter spending time together; the proud grandfather showing his granddaughter items that are so close to his heart, telling stories and explaining the meaning behind some of the objects that have collected dust over the years. What I also captured, somewhat inadvertently, were all these model buildings that my father has created and kept through all these years. I’ve watched him cut, arrange and glue together tiny pieces for these models. He’s even taught my brother and I how to cut small polystyrene foam pieces using a special device with a stretched hot metal wire, which worked like a laser. I would not be surprised if some of those pieces we’ve cut out in our childhood still exist in my father’s collection one way or another!

The story was originally featured on Fearless and Framed Blog