Not long ago I received (by email) a “selfie” of my elder niece (and goddaughter) and her handsome partner. I knew in an instant that it was a good shot. This seemingly idle observation of mine was all the more significant because of the casual, unwitting nature of the photograph. It was after all a “selfie”, an artistic flirtation not uncommon among the XYZ generations (basically, anything after The Beatles) and normally undertaken with a minimum of scrutiny or artistic devotion. It wasn’t a calculated composition; it was a whimsical snap. There was no posing. Yet it spoke to me.  It was a keeper. But how to do so? Storing things had proven to be a disengaging exercise. It complicated the matter when I added the ingredient that my niece is a professional photographer, primarily equestrian; but anything else she touches regularly proves to be equally memorable. Her skill is not discretionary or exclusionary. Here, I reasoned, was an opportunity.

The term “XYZ generations” most commonly refers to Generation X (born approx. 1965–1979), Millennials (also known as Generation Y, born approx. 1980–1994), and Generation Z (born approx. 1995–2009). These three generations are the ones following the Baby Boomers and have distinct characteristics and experiences shaped by the historical events and technological shifts during their formative years.

There was a time when I harboured desk drawers of forgotten photographs. When we “downsized” it was part of our unerring deliberation to trash the lot (along with hundreds of ancient office files we had professionally shredded). Now that we have graduated to the electronic method of communication (all Apple driven) I have instead a “folder” of almost 7,500 photographs spanning the period of my retirement in 2014 to date. Below for example is one of my earliest photographs taken upon our introduction to Hilton Head Island, a distinctly memorable occasion for me as we swept along the highway across the wavering green marshlands from the mainland to the island and its salt sea air.

You accordingly might be forgiven to imagine that I would have done something purposefully to maintain the memory of the Hilton Head Island image.  Instead it is merely part of the catalogue on my computer, a collection which has increasingly become virtually impossible to oversee but with haste and inaccuracy. Granted there are photographs we’ve printed on the Canon, then added to a modest frame from the Dollar Store and given to a friend. But this particular photograph from my niece demanded more. I was especially perturbed by a niggling  and increasingly unavoidable feature. This photograph was of family.  And my goddaughter to boot.  Suddenly the bells of responsibility, relevance and heritage were resounding in my grey haired head. Not that expiation by any measure was the driving force; the predominant attraction was the fortuity of the photograph. It captured an abundance of happy emotions.

Unresolved, the initial photograph from my niece dutifully became part of my book of others. That was some time ago, perhaps several months.  Lately the recurring memory of the photograph was interrupted by news from my niece that she was now associated with a company in Trieste, Italy which manages the bespoke framing of photographs of professionals. Here was the stepping stone for advancement.  I arranged for appropriate framing of the photograph, including the production of the photograph on canvass instead of parchment. This was the translation of the photograph to a painting.

There was but one remaining impediment to the project; namely, where to hang it?  Since our transition to a small apartment we have long ago surpassed the convenient location of anything else on the walls. In the end we have resorted to removing a print to allow the installation of the new frame. The print now hangs precipitately above eye-level (not the ideal location but nonetheless tolerable considering its modest character). The family photograph is judiciously placed in the hallway entrance of the apartment, keenly visible, perfectly aligned with the line of sight.