Wrinkles on Daily Photography
I never really understood why people were obsessed with documenting everyday life with photography. I always feel that when I bring my camera out, it needs to document something “important.” Separating my personal and professional creative minds has always been difficult, and carving significant personal meaning out of daily snapshots has so far eluded me in my photography journey.
My great grandmother, above, with all the wrinkles of a life well lived, looks over at the window of her assisted living room in Michigan on Dec. 22, 2025.
My mother and her grandmother chat about times gone by from my mom’s childhood in Michigan. My great grandma’s laugh is still strong and certain details she remembers with clarity. Others, not so much.
But yesterday, a visit with my great grandmother in Michigan pierced that veil so effortlessly that my cynicism for daily photography may be gone for some time.
The shots in question aren’t anything revolutionary. I took them hastily on my phone and edited them with Apple software. Taking black and white photos of old people isn’t exactly a Pulitzer-winning concept. In fact, most would call it cliché.
Looking through old scrapbooks helps jog my great grandma’s memory and was a definite highlight of our visit. I always learn something new about family history with visits like these.
But with the wide bay windows of her room somehow casting soft light over her weathered cheeks and carving hard shadows out of her wrinkles, I knew what I was witnessing was special. And for my mom, who sees her grandmother only on our seldom trips north, this moment is one that she will want to remember.
I’ve been lucky enough to know five of my great-grandparents. And, having been to most of their funerals, I know how important each visit to them can be. It very well might be the last. Even though the dead care very little for photos, the living who will cherish them deeply.
My great grandma has dementia. She’s still mostly with us, but her mind slips further and further away the older she gets. Eventually she won’t recognize me or my mom, and that fact is scary to think about. But for this trip, her face still lights up with loving recognition when we walked in the door of her assisted living room. Her bliss at seeing us again was written so plainly across her face.
My siblings, my mom and I posed with my great grandma before we left for home. We hope to see her again soon, but we treasure each visit because it very well could be one of the last times we see her.
I’ve found myself returning to these photos almost hourly since I took them and continuously finding new tidbits to soak up. For the first time, it’s clear that these photos may not be important to the world. But they are important to me, and that’s what matters.
Having worldwide impact has always been something I strive for. I want my photography to have meaning for others, and I don’t think that I’ve changed my stance on that. But these photos of my great grandmother have personal meaning to me and to my family, and that’s important too.
Maybe the most important of all.
