Monday, January 24, 2011
My Grandfather's Hands
At the end of the day a few nights ago I looked down at my hands and felt as though I was looking at my grandfather's hands. I have never thought this before, I had neglected them in this cold weather and looked older than normal and like his. I think, maybe, it is in the knuckles. The funny thing is I don't think of my father's hands. My father is a woodworker and his hands are unique to him alone because they show the time he has spent working outside, working with his tools, and more than likely from the wood itself. For some reason this made me want to photograph things around my house that we have made. My dad makes beautiful clocks (though I realized this picture displays the least impressive part, maybe I'll post more tomorrow). The most impressive piece of his work that I own is in the bedroom where my daughter was sleeping, thus no pictures, perhaps for the next post. Other than that I restored the orange chair (see here), made the cork board, and crocheted the blankets, which my grandmother taught me to do. Now that I think of it we were inspired to make a cork board by the huge cork board my father-in-law made many years ago. The things we make with our hands.