Photographs Not Taken #5

There was a picture in my family’s photo album that had recorded the presence of snow in Healdsburg around the 70s (a pile of snow accumulated on the ground and on the plants of the lawn) and ever since I can remember my childhood had lacked the presence of snow, save for the snow that would blanket the mountains nearby under certain weather conditions. However, back in winter of 2011, I had witnessed the falling of light flakes of snow right outside our family home, believing for a while that it was hail. The white specks dancing in the air before falling to the ground, not leaving a lasting impression of its existence. It definitely wasn’t hail as the specks lacked any noise when coming in contact with concrete and they weren’t heavy at all. It didn’t last long, only about 20 minutes or so, but it had been mesmerizing to see it and experience it. Since it hasn’t snowed since then in Healdsburg in the lower elevations, I feel like it had been a rare opportunity to document it, however I hadn’t thought of taking a picture, so all the evidence I have of it happening is the accounts of other witnesses such as my parents and brother. Maybe the next time it happens, I’ll be ready with camera in hand.

Single Image #5

First signs of morning frost on a residential home in Healdsburg. November 10, 2015.

Photograph Not Taken #4

Every morning my grandmother on my mother’s side (whom I had lived with since I was born) would take out her Rosario and pray on her favorite spot near the heater before she passed away in 2008. I had known this image of my grandmother for years and continue to remember her like this, focused, her lips moving but words hardly audible, her memory of the prayers never faltering. My great grandmother on my father’s side, has a similar routine, however she prays before bed every night. Her memory of each and every word is evidence of her devotion. I wish I had taken a portrait of my grandmother in this way, at a lower shutter speed to capture the movement of her hands, touching each bead on her Rosario with care. The black and white film capturing the years of aged beauty of her hands. The photograph wouldn’t only be sentimental to me, but would be an image of a grandmother whom Mexican and Mexican-American people probably recognize.

Single Image #4

An array of colored and patterned fabrics at Fabrications, fabric store in the Healdsburg Plaza. Spring 2015.

Photography Not Taken #3

It was a bright and sunny Saturday morning in October and my brother and I had decided to go to breakfast at the Single Tree Cafe in Healdsburg. Outside they have an eating area where we decided to sit because we had Snowie with us in his stroller. We ordered our usual breakfast, a country fried steak topped with sausage gravy, complete with sunny-side-up eggs, home style potatoes, and toast–plus a milkshake. I began eating after I had watched my brother drown most of his food in ketchup, including his steak. I didn’t look up until my brother said “Sister, look…” in a downtrodden tone. It was like a scene from a cartoon or sitcom. One moment he was fine and the next moment I look he’s gotten into a mess. I wanted to take two colored photographs, one before and one after–noting the drastic and immediate change of my brother carrying most of the ketchup and gravy on the brim of his black O’Neil hat when only seconds before had been completely clean and new. I don’t take portraits often, but they are really fun when I do. I think the photos would have been great, had I known beforehand that he would miscalculate the distance between his hat’s brim and the food. I think the photos would have captured my brother’s lovably clumsy personality that contrasted with his tall and broad build that makes him look tough.

Single Image #3

My father, Crispin Kilo, greets two week old billies as their mother watches protectively nearby. February 2, 2015.

Photograph Not Taken #2

It was a warm summer afternoon in 2006, the teal curtains preventing most of the harsh rays of sunshine from entering the my family’s house in Healdsburg. My grandparents were in the living room sitting on the black patterned couch, enjoying each other’s company. As strange as it may seem, it was one of the few times I had seen my grandfather holding my grandmother’s hand firmly in his own, his dark skin, tall structure, and stern facial expression a sharp contrast to my grandmother’s light skin, petite stature and friendly smile. My grandmother’s hair was velvety black and blended into the couch’s color and my grandfather’s hair was snowy white, popping out from the dark background. The two of them were on either sides of the couch, watching TV like they usually did in the afternoon, peacefully, silently. I would have loved the contrast of the pair, the sereneness of it and the symmetry of them sitting on either side of the couch. However, regretfully my grandmother passed away in 2008 and so the photograph forever lives only in my memory.

Single Image #2

A street performer plays guitar near the plaza in Healdsburg. September 19, 2015

Photographs Not Taken #1

My younger brother, older cousin, and I were sitting in right side on the second tier of the Davies Symphony Hall in San Francisco. It was a warm August night and all three of us were a bit sweaty after climbing two flights of stairs and walking about three blocks to reach our destination. Inside, the room was slightly stuffy and the seats below as well as in the second and first tiers were filled. Some people were wearing clothing or costumes, others just dressed casually and the orchestra itself was diverse. The room echoed with chatter from the many people awaiting the beautiful from the Legend of Zelda series music of the orchestra to encompass the room. The lights were dimmed, illuminating the entire hall with an orange glow. A few people’s faces glowed as they recorded a bit of the symphony’s performance, some even capturing a picture or two, but I wanted to experience the moment, hum the melodies in my head, tap my feet to beating of the drums. But, I wish I had taken a picture of the different kinds of people who attended, composing it from behind where our seats were so I could photograph my brother and cousin’s attention towards the orchestra playing their instruments, the large white screen projecting each Zelda game’s selected scenes, my brother and cousin’s fists bumping in shared excitement, their lips curved into a smile, their dark curls portraying their child-at-heart personalities looking as if they were brothers rather than cousins. I would have loved to capture that moment in time when my siblings and I shared an experience with so many strangers because we shared the same love for the Legend of Zelda, for the music as well as the journey we all made from wherever and however we got there. Not every performance is the same, not every audience member is the same as the ones in other performances, which is why I think my photograph would have been worthwhile.

Single Image #1

New Meat Co. building in Healdsburg on the corner of Grove and Center streets making steady progress. February 25, 2015.