Snapshots originally kept as mementoes of happy occasions connote something different following ageing and death which endows them with a poignant quality.
They are visual and tangible reminders of the past, a fading print that outlives the original subject is often all that remains.
Yet once removed from their original milieu they might be thought as nothing more than silent pieces of paper.
Regardless, they are representations, vintage photographs of family (or any person) are evocative.
They are also objects that communicate events and experiences.
Long ago someone once held, touched or wrote on them.
They have marks and rips, perhaps remnants of glue from where they were pasted into an album.
Their blemishes, imperfections and scars are traces of a lost time.