Once upon a time a man had a son, his first son. He stayed at home with him while his mom went to medical school. The man was a photographer. He didn’t want to stay home but go out to make photographs. It was summer in the south. It got hot in his non- airconditioned home, he was bored and he felt trapped. He watched too much television because that was the one thing he could do with his son, The days dragged on and he began to feel insecure: the man thought: how do I raise a boy? I’m so full of love. He’s so beautiful but I worry about my ability to help him, protect him, show him about the good things and hard things of the world. He took a photograph of him with his son to see if it looked like what it felt. He brought style into the process, one of light and color and craziness to reflect the cacophony of emotions the man felt.
Together they worked, at first passing the time but then it became more and more fun as they collaborated to create fantasy from the real experience of being a dad, and of being a son. At first it was very exciting working around the house but as the boy got older the man became more secure and the pictures slowed down. Eventually one day, when the boy was 13, the man took a picture that showed the end of the first father son relationship phase as it moved to one of partnership. The man thought that was enough and turned his camera to other projects. The man looked at all the pictures and was happy he took them. So was the boy. They laughed and agreed, yes, this is what it was like – what fun. The man was pleased too because all of the photographs were done in the camera, before Photoshop. This is how it was.