Family photos during Tet (Vietnamese New Year)

I remember back then, every Tet holiday, when the whole family was together, my mother would call Uncle Six to come and take pictures. At that time, his shop was the only photo studio in the area. Every year, images of us growing up and the whole family gathering together were captured in those cherished photographs.

Young girl and spring - Photo: Trinh Hoang Tan

When she received the photos, my mother would put them in a large frame, where other photos were kept. Speaking of which, many people used to do the same thing; if you entered a house, you'd easily find a photo frame hanging on the wall. Some houses would place the photos in a glass case under the table, allowing guests to easily admire them, ask questions, and discuss the pictures, as if it were a very intimate and natural way to start a conversation.

I am often moved by black and white photographs because they evoke the feeling that time has left its mark. The signs of aging are etched on the faces and figures of grandparents and parents. The innocent carefree spirit of children has faded, replaced by the faces of adults filled with worry, contemplation, and a certain caution. Looking at the photograph, one realizes the formidable power of time, especially when so many people are present, some still alive and others gone. One hears the tranquil presence of impermanence nearby.

Back then, photos were taken with film, so it took quite a while to get them developed; during peak periods like Tet (Vietnamese New Year), you could wait over a month. The feeling of waiting to see your photo was exciting. Because we didn't have many opportunities to take pictures, most photos showed shy, slightly awkward smiles, unlike today where children and adults alike know how to "act" in front of the camera. I'm not trying to compare, but I value old photos for their authenticity and depth, not the "industrial" feel of today.

Back then, most photos were staged by the photographer, so sometimes New Year's photos from different families looked very similar. Families would sit at their tables and chairs, look at the camera and smile, sometimes raising glasses to toast, or standing next to a flower pot placed in front of the house. Nowadays, there are many more props, settings, and backgrounds, the photos are beautifully edited, and the people in the photos look perfect from skin to figure. These differences are obvious, but it seems that the excitement and enthusiasm have diminished considerably.

Back then, Tet photos were valuable because it was a time when children got new clothes, adults looked neat and tidy, and houses were clean and beautiful, adorned with a few pots of marigolds or peonies. Unlike now, we have more resources; we can buy clothes all year round, and we pay much more attention to the appearance of our homes. The excitement of gathering together to take a family photo seems less necessary now.

Taking photos is easy these days; with a smartphone in hand, anyone can capture any moment they want. Countless of these photos are rarely printed. We have many more tools to preserve and "display" them from social media platforms. However, we display them more for others to see than for ourselves.

Some people take lots of photos of themselves, food and drinks, random landscapes. But they forget to take photos with their loved ones, especially their grandparents and parents. Like my friend, one day her father suddenly passed away, and she was devastated when she couldn't find a single photo of the two of them together. Luckily, when she looked through an old photo album, she found a faded picture taken when she was five years old, her father holding her in his arms. The photo couldn't capture all the sadness and longing for her father, but it helped her realize that moment would last forever.

Nowadays, at spring outing spots like parks or tourist attractions, photographers are readily available to serve visitors. We can capture images of our families enjoying a joyful and lively spring outing, but I still prefer photos taken at home. It helps me remember what my house looked like then, this corner of the table, this window frame, because who knows, over the years, those things might be gone, even I and the people beside me might change in the blink of an eye. It's not that a hundred years of a person's life is framed in a lifeless photograph; the value of memories lies in the fact that we only appreciate them and feel immense regret when they're gone.

This Tet holiday, don't forget to take photos with your family!

Dieu Ai

Source: https://baoquangtri.vn/van-hoa-the-thao/chup-anh-gia-dinh-ngay-tet/183441.htm