garrison beau scott

About ten years ago, I began the process of organizing my father’s photography archive. He shot a ton of Kodachrome, and I spent more time looking at the slides than doing any actual organizing. Not having a slide projector, I would empty each of the yellow boxes onto my light box and just get lost in the memories.

It occurred to me one day that there might be a way to re-interpret some of my favorite images. So I grabbed my macro and started to re-photograph the slides that I had selected. The almost nonexistent depth of field blurred everything but the faces and the smiles away.

One of the images I found came from a box marked, “Disneyland,” and sure enough, there’s a shot of me and my grandfather in lock-down, target mode.

When I look at this picture that my Father took of me, I think of W. Eugene Smith’s image, “Walk to Paradise Garden.”

I don’t think Dad was aware of this image, or of Smith for that matter. As a stringer for the Associated Press, he mostly covered the Dallas Cowboys (hence my insane passion for the team I live and die by) and other sporting events such as the Super Bowl, Cotton Bowl and major golf and tennis tournaments.

He might not be one of the medium’s greatest historians, but he sure knew how to take a damn fine image. If my Father’s photography was the foundation for me becoming a photographer, then this is a cornerstone of that foundation.

A shot of me and my sister circa 1974 by my first photo hero. Here’s to the man who put the camera in my hand. Happy Father’s Day Dad.

Yeah that’s right, I’m pimpin’ the check pants a few sizes too small with the iron-on knee patches. And so what if my fly is undone and I’m not even looking through the viewfinder…you see that glass I’m sporting? Leica baby. Thanks dad.

My grandfather Fred was a photographer. My father Dennis was a photographer and still is. In fact he’s got a set of Leicas I covet to a biblical proportion. There was a time when I was very young when my father was a stringer for the Associated Press. His real passion was serving in the police force and gave up working for AP sometime in the early 70’s. But he remained a photographer and his preferred subject matter was myself and my two sisters.

The archive of imagery of my sisters and I growing up is the reason I became a photographer. Inside the countless boxes of Kodachrome and contained on the endless strips of black and white film negatives is my childhood. Just abut every piece of it from first steps to first day of school, family vacations, Christmas celebrations, and all the subtle moments in between that make up a childhood.

Fast forward to the early 90’s. My parents have divorced, I’ve graduated high school with zero direction, barely making my way through junior college, and one day I’m in the attic of my grandmother’s home trying to piece together my life when I stumble upon the family photo archive. Right then and there I make a decision to learn all I can about the craft of photography, if only to provide my children, should I be fortunate enough, with the same gift my father gave to me and my sisters.

I enrolled in a photo class at the jc I was at, then a few more, then transferred to Brooks Institute of Photography, graduated, met the woman I’d marry, had two children and…well it can all be traced back to this picture and thousands and thousands of ones just like it.

This is my cousin Brian and I from a family picnic, that’s me on the right.