In second grade, he handed me his 35mm SLR. I ran behind chairs and under tables without realizing I had started and finished an entire roll. From that moment on, I asked questions. He taught me all the basics I would later learn in class.

 

Photography was not our only shared interest. We listened to big band cassettes in the car. We quizzed each other in math. We ate Oreo O's cereal, sometimes without milk.

 

I had a plan to take his portrait — when I was older, when I was a professional.

 

Standing Still is a book dedicated to my grandfather. I did not get the chance to photograph him, but our cross-generational relationship led me to meet 19 incredible individuals at Gateway Vista Assisted Living in Lincoln, Nebraska. I made photographs of them and their belongs as I became interested in what we leave behind.

 

Some things are meaningful, like a Minolta X-370 that your granddaughter only uses once in a while, but can’t live without. Some things are trivial, like the furniture that you bought, but don't use unless you have company. Either way, what we leave behind is a reflection of who we were. I don't have my grandfather and I don't have many of his possessions, but I do have his camera.