My 88-year-old grandfather Jose Garcia only has two pictures from his childhood. Both are with his older cousin Carlos, whom he affectionately calls his brother. Born in Mexico in 1930, my grandfather never met his father, and, when he was still very young, his mother left him in the care of her sister. His Aunt Margarita raised him, but it was Carlos who made sure he stayed in school and out of trouble. It was also Carlos whom my grandfather followed to the United States in 1954 at the age of 24 in search of a better life.
As a lower ranked sailor, Garcia would be hoisted over the side of the ship to clean off rust and debris. One day he decided to challenge his fellow shipman to see who could complete the task the fastest. Unbeknownst to them, the captain saw them as they rushed to see who would finish first. Impressed by their tenacity, he offered them the chance to train in any department they wished.Credit: Courtesy Jose Garcia
It was not until 2015 that I pointed my camera at my grandfather in an intentional way. He was always a willing subject, and his gaze seemed to pierce through each image effortlessly. Most shoots were impromptu and shot quickly on my phone before posting to Instagram with the title “Portrait of My Grandfather” and a sequence number. He now has hundreds of photographs of himself. The story of his life hidden behind each stare.
