My motion to decide to further myself as an artist happened after my father had passed; He, the well known Photographer Will McBride, to me, was a monolith. After his cremation Will dispersed in front of my eyes like they do in Si-Fi movies. Millions of shattered pieces drifting off into the universe. He had appreciated my "eye" but we both never made photography the center of our discussions. Even though we lived in the same city our views on life were miles apart. We never connected and so in the end, he did it his way and I'm doing it mine.
It was 5:30 am when the hospital called to inform me of his death. Within moments my whole being switched to automation. A nurse at the hospital gave me his belongings. Some cash, papers and the keys to his place. It was awkward to enter his apartment without asking, but I had too. We all at some point in our lives have to manage the aftermath. After an hour just sitting there I took only this one photo: His kitchen table which he didn't get to return to. Will McBride, * January 9th, 1933 - † January 27th, 2015