Photography: On Love (and Necromancy)
I have hundreds (probably thousands) of photos of Charlie, most of which I have never shared. They’re personal, deeply intimate images, soft, poorly composed and technically awful photos that, as time passes, I regard as some of the most beautiful I have ever taken, mostly by accident. They were never really meant for anyone, let alone anyone else and they now reveal a side of him that few others alive today ever saw. They have become “art” that was never meant to be. Documents that were never meant to be important.
We were constantly stuck somewhere between best friends and siblings. Sometimes in total symmetry — a mirror held up only to see the other looking back.
This is the painful truth of photography. It is testament to what we have loved and lost, and in being so it becomes the technological necromancer, resurrecting a shade that is both real and a cold, pale imitation in comparison to the warm flesh whose form we are aided in recalling.
Read the full essay at recyclethereal.substack.com















