E X A C T L Y ...
Not Jesus' corporeal father... I mean, yes, but I'm not talking about Saint Joseph.
I'm talking about my father, who's name is José (kind of spanish for Joseph) and is a carpenter. I took those pictures of him 2 years ago for my final project in photography class.
I wrote something about him and I want to share it with you along with the pictures, I hope you like them.
""Eso es muy fino, ya ha durado 75 años desde que tu abuelo lo hizo ¡no te preocupes que no se parte!"
Fue lo que escuché cuando me subí a la mesa para la sierra eléctrica con la que trabaja mi papá desde que tenía
"como 17 años" para tomar fotografías cenitales. Me contó que cómo él me regaló la cámara con la que hoy
lo fotografiaba, su papá le regalo todas las herramientas para trabajar la ebanistería.
Es lo que hacía mi abuelo, Carlos, y es lo que hace mi padre, Fernando, desde que tengo memoria.
A Carlos no lo conocí, pero sí cada una de sus herramientas, el cepillo, el martillo, la sierra, el serrucho, las prensas y cuanto pequeño cachibache pueda uno imaginarse, he visto a todos y cada uno de esos instrumentos ser horados, junto con la memoria y las enseñanzas de mi abuelo, por el trabajo de mi padre sobre la madera.
"Uno no puede dejar que nadie le afile las cuchillas del cepillo porque las dañan, son muy viejas, las dañan o se vuelan un dedo"...
Yo le llamaría arte ¿de qué otra manera podría llamarlo? Si he visto cómo sus manos cansadas son capaces de convertir inertes partes amputadas de un árbol ahora inexistente en hermosas puertas, ventanas, camas, bibliotecas y demás ornamentos concebibles.
Este es mi padre, un artista inadvertido que desciende de otro que pasó por la vida sin mejor suerte, José Fernando Pérez."
This is the vague translation of the text
"That's very fine, it has already lasted 75 years since your grandfather made it. Do not worry, it won’t break!" That’s what I heard when I got on the table for the electric saw with which my father works since he had "like 17 years" to take zenith photographs.
He told me that, just as he gave me the camera I was using to take al lof these pictures, his father gave him all the tools to work in the cabinetmaking. It's what my grandfather, Carlos, did, and that's what my father, Fernando, does, since I can remember.
I did not meet my grandpa Carlos, but I did see each one of his tools, the brush, the hammer, the saw, the presses and every Little tool you can imagine. I have seen each and every one of those instruments been honored, together with the memory and teachings of my grandfather, for my father's work on wood.
"You can not let anyone sharpen the blades of the brush because they are damaged, they are very old, if you let someone else do it they’ll damage them or they blow a finger" ...
I would call it art, how else could I call it? If I have seen how his tired hands are able to convert inert amputated parts of a tree now nonexistent into beautiful doors, windows, beds, libraries and other conceivable ornaments. This is my father, an inadvertent artist who descends from another who went through life without better luck, José Fernando Pérez.
So those are the pictures I want to share with you and I hope you liked them, I'm very proud of them and of course my dad.
Have a great week my friends.