The metamorphosis from (mainly) charming toddler through (often) sullen teen to (always) sophisticated young adult seems to happen in the twinkling of an eye when observed as a parent, but it can take an eternity actually to live through what are probably the most intensely experienced years of anyone's life. Typically for my generation, I have relatively few photographs that record my own progress – thankfully, probably – but modern kids must be the most heavily documented in history. Although, given the ephemerality of electronic media, this may, in time, prove to be an illusion.
Our lives may be very diverse, but it is uncanny how similar most family albums are. I imagine the same goes for today's vast smartphone souvenir and selfie bank. You get the same occasions, marked in much the same way, recorded again and again by photographers with much the same idea of how to do it. There are exceptions, however: I remember Peter Goldfield commenting once that Martin Parr was the only person he knew whose album included pictures of his own children crying, sulking, and throwing tantrums. I liked this idea in principle but, when it came to it, I had to admit Parr had set the bar of steely-eyed originality a little too high for me. Besides, and call me a deluded old fool if you must, but I like to think that, in our family, such occasions were sufficiently untypical and so fleeting as not to warrant documentation.
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