“The neuroscientist and author David Eagleman has written that we all die three deaths: ‘The first is when the body ceases to function. The second is when the body is consigned to the grave. The third is that moment, sometime in the future, when your name is spoken for the last time.’ I would say there’s a fourth: the moment the last remaining picture of you is seen for the final time. These found photographs not only remind me of this delicate thing we run both toward and away from — time — but they also hold something else. The humbling, steadying truth that, one day, that’s all we’ll be: a photo.” – Bill Shapiro, from The Strange Lure of Other People's Photos, New York Times Magazine.

My friend, photographer Aline Smithson, opened her exhibition “The Ephemeral Archive” with this thought-provoking mind-blowing quote.

Wow.

Found, or vernacular photographs (an academic term for snapshots or other functional photos made by ordinary folks) began to make their way onto gallery and museum walls in the early 2000’s. Largely ignored by the critical gaze and considered inappropriate for sleek white walls with thoughtful illumination, many of these “non-art” images are actually bursting with artistic potential and emotion. They are humble records of our social and cultural history, made by Uncle Harry at birthday parties, proud car owners, delighted new parents and men displaying the fish they caught on a lazy Sunday afternoon. And they’ve finally gotten the recognition they deserve as a significant part of the history of photography.

Just pull one of your family’s old photo scrapbooks off the shelf. You’ve likely got your own decent collection of vernacular photography.  

Sadly, many scrapbooks spend years in storage lockers, dusty attics or damp basements. They often get dismantled once sold at an estate or yard sale. Pictures get tossed or destroyed when deaths and divorces occur. Many survive, though, even if the people who once lived them, do not. That’s where the fun comes in! Discovering and breathing new life into other people’s interesting old family snapshots is one of my favorite things to do. I love the idea that when I rescue a creased, faded photo from imminent extinction, I’m keeping the subjects alive just a little longer.

Long may you run.

I’ve always found that assembling a collection of anything is more fun if there’s some sort of theme. In the case of my vernacular photos, the theme is dogs and their humans. I find these little gems in flea markets, garage sales, thrift stores, funky antique stores and on eBay.

It’s poignant to imagine the journey these pictures have made. There was the day they were first lovingly held in the hands of family members. From there, it was on to a wall or mantle or into a scrapbook. Then, after many years, they were taken down or torn out of a scrapbook and stuffed into a cardboard box. Next, there was the trip to a table at an estate sale or a plastic bin in a dingy junk shop. Most, after a few months, met their demise by being emptied into a dumpster.

But some got plucked out of the box or bin and given another shot at life.

Museum curators and serious collectors acknowledged the importance of old snapshots some years ago. Peter Cohen, probably the best known of the collectors of this genre of photography, has amassed tens of thousands of these pictures. A curator friend of mine went to his NYC apartment once to select some for an exhibition. She said the pictures were piled high everywhere, even in the bathtub! Parts of his collection have been exhibited at MOMA, the Metropolitan Museum of Art and many other major institutions.

Sorting through boxes of pictures can test one’s patience and stamina. Personally, I love sitting on the cold floor of a Goodwill store, sifting through boxes of orphaned photos. I can do it for hours. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll come across a photo of someone I’ve known. Of course, I never do, but it feels good acknowledging the existence of so many people who are now long gone, giving them each a little bit of my time. When I find a photo that makes my heart leap, all is suddenly right with the world! If I can relate by recalling a family member of my own or remembering a similar event in my own life, I'm able to make a connection. If I learn something new, that's even better. The whole experience reminds me just how far back time stretches, causing my own limited perspective to expand.

I feel extra lucky if there are names and dates written in the margins or on the back.

If you’re a dog lover and enjoy looking at snapshots like these, I highly recommend a book called, what else… Dogs. It’s a wonderful compilation of vernacular pictures from the collection of Catherine Johnson, complete with some pretty great quotes about our canine pals.

Here are some of the pictures I’ve rescued. I paid anywhere from $.50 to $9.95 for them. I was drawn to them because of the subject matter, lighting and composition. I love that they each represent a different chunk of time in our history and that the people are clearly so in love with, amused by and proud of their dogs. Of course, I long to know the details: who were these people, where did they live, what did they do? What was the name of their dog and what kind of personality did it have?  How long did the dog live?

If I go along with what Bill Shapiro says in the quote above, I guess these dogs (and their humans) haven't died quite yet. That makes me happy.