Episode #17: The Beauty of Lost Photographs
On found slides and their importance for our history
During a recent visit to a friend’s studio, he showed me the only photo he has of his great-grandparents. His family found it while collecting the last pieces of furniture before selling the house they had lived in for 51 years.
We reflected on how this small picture, now displayed at the top of his studio, is the only visual memory they have of those relatives. There’s no trace of what came before them. In a way, that picture feels like the first stone of the family, the place where it all started. Almost forgetting they were once children themselves, part of a much larger family tree that never had the pleasure of being photographed.
How curious.
If we’re lucky enough, we might have a dozen photos of our great-grandparents. In contrast, future generations will hold an astronomical amount of media about us, accessible without even stepping foot into the places we have lived in.
This thought sparked my curiosity.
Can we imagine how the world used to be and what home meant for people in the past, just by intensely looking at one picture?
That’s the beauty I see in found slides.
If you’re unfamiliar, found slides are fragments of memory.
Usually, you can find them in flea markets, discarded, or forgotten over time. These photographs are rarely seen in museums, yet their beauty lies in their fragility and mystery.
Sometimes, there’s a year or place written on top of it, offering a small window into its story. Other times, we’re left to imagine who these people were, what they dreamed of, and what their world looked like.
Back when I started collecting them for the first time, I didn’t know anything about slides. I was only attracted to the unknown surrounding certain pictures. Why did the photographers take them? Was it a vacation? A family retreat?
When I collect these slides, I think about their connection to Project Home. Each one is a tiny piece of a bigger puzzle, helping us understand the universal concept of home, what it meant in the past and how it continues to evolve.
Found Slides. Barcelona, 1962
I found my first slide in Barcelona. The package was labeled “Catalunya” and filled with landscape pictures of the mountains. But little by little, people’s figures began to emerge, each photo offering a glimpse into a story we’ll never fully know.
My request to you: Try to look at them with new eyes. Can you recreate their world?
Enjoy them below.
If by any chance you recognize someone, please let me know. I’ll be happy to send the original.
A Final Homework
Since that moment, I’ve started diving more into the meaning of artifacts and old memories. Until recently, when I encountered this piece by Hans-Peter Feldmann, thanks to Alec Soth.
I still haven’t found mine, but I wish you find yours soon.
Until the next one,
Much love.
F
Just discovered your Substack, Francesco! Your post on the beauty of lost photographs takes me back to the 1970s and 80s when all my photos were all made with slide film. It wasn’t until recently that I went through every… single… one… to identify the “keepers.” Some of them I digitized, some of them are still in the slide case, for future generations to ponder 🤔 For now I find your homework invitation intriguing. As a space clearer by profession, I can imagine framing a photo of someone I don’t know, not just to honor their life (hopefully a well lived one), but as a way to release any lingering pain or struggle they may have experienced in their lifetime and continues to energetically affect those living today… Anyway… long way of saying, I love your work.
Wow, what a nice post wrapping all this together. That alpine photo with the red hats and cigarette though, is lovely.