When I speak to people about my work, they are occasionally surprised when I mention that the majority of my subjects are strangers. We meet once, perhaps twice, make photographs, and are unlikely to see each other again. The act of creating portraits—which is so intimate, requiring my subjects to allow me, if not into their environment, at least to be quickly at ease before my camera—becomes a fleeting interaction of two independent lives. This is not desirable, but it is simply a reality of life. Despite the brevity of our time together, I am always grateful of their time and trust, and I consider them to be friends.
Words are not sufficient to express the sorrow that one such friend has left us. When I was assigned to photograph Charlie Hunt and his family almost six years ago, he was a very young man recovering from brain cancer. His spirit was not diminished, however, and we chatted and made photographs at his home for a couple hours. My visual memory of our session—him playing his guitar, his siblings, his parents—remains quite vivid.
As the cancer returned over the years past, his diagnosis and circumstances were no doubt a great struggle both for him and his family. Charlie died on Wednesday, December 13, 2017. I have on occasion encountered his parents, for which I grateful; but I shall always regret not seeing him again.
Requiescat in pace, Charlie.
