There isn't a specific time period of vernacular photography that I love more than others. I'm less interested in photos from the 1970s on and I've grown tired of the posed cabinet shots of the 19th century. But if I find something in either of those eras that speaks to me I'll still feverishly grab it.
What I'm most fond of are photos that I can relate to with some emotion. They might make me laugh with them, snicker at them, or even identify with them. This little girl Dot is one I relate to, even though she's at least 10 years older than me. The handwriting says it was taken in 1952, but that hairstyle, headband, Peter Pan collar on the blouse could just as easily be from a school picture from when I was 12. She'd now be close to 70. I know nothing about her, but I can see myself in this photo and I'm sure there are a lot of others who will feel the same.
Click on image to see it larger.
The photograph doesn't look old to me. She looks the age I often still imagine myself to be, 12. There's something comforting about 12, or at least what 12 used to be. Just on the cusp of all hell breaking loose, still unaware of how much the world would throw at us. Still feeling safe. I doubt 12 year olds today get a chance to feel safe. They're bombarded with too much before they ever reach 12. 12 is the new 30. Or maybe as in this case, 12 is the new 70. I don't even know what that means, so don't spend any time at all analyzing it.
And my postings will still be sporadic because of my lack of net access. By now it's just worn me down. And I do really hate Blogger's redesign of many of the blogging tools for their birthday. I HATE the preview which is now useless. I hate the "edit HTML" because I don't see anything with HTML. All I see is Courier. I hate Courier. I used to have to use Courier when I was designing computer language books. And I especially hate that blogger will no longer allow me to add a line of space before my first line of text. I specifically always put a line space between the main head and first line of text. It's the designer in me. Now when I hit the return key blogger decides that's a mistake and they delete it. Oh geez, now I'm whining like a 12 year old. Best just go do my homework.