Other People’s Children OBT.
I’m not terribly fond of other people’s children. I love the ones I love completely, but I’m definitely not one of those people who looks at pictures of other people’s children, even good pictures, and feels much of anything.
However. (You knew there was a but coming, right?) However, this photographer’s images of his children are weirdly, extravagantly, uncomfortably evocative. They make me feel feels. In my head, my memories of people I love aren’t posed portraits. My memories are the messy, unretouched version, complete with dirt and chaotic noises and smells and the general in-the-moment feel of the thing. Like these.