From Forgotten Photos to Living Stories
There’s a moment every parent knows. You open a folder of old photos, maybe from a road trip, a beach day, or that one perfect hike, and suddenly you’re back there. You see the laughter, the light, the way everyone looked so alive.
When I do that, I catch myself saying, “Oh, I forgot about this… I remember that feeling.” And then comes the little sting of regret that I almost let such a beautiful moment slip away, buried in a folder I rarely open.
Most of us have thousands of photos stored somewhere, tiny time capsules of the people and places that shaped us. But how often do we see them? They live in our phones and computers, quietly fading from our everyday lives.
When photos remind us of truths we forgot
Not long ago, I opened a random folder of old pictures, the kind you don’t even remember taking. My dad had passed away this summer, and I hadn’t looked through those photos in years.
As I clicked through, I started seeing him with my kids when they were little, playing, laughing, trying in his own way to connect. I had forgotten those moments. At the end, all I could remember was the distance, the things we didn’t get right.
And I felt ashamed that I’d forgotten.
But those photos stopped me. They reminded me that memory isn’t fixed. It fades, edits, softens. Sometimes, when we revisit old photos, we remember not just moments, but truths we had forgotten. We see love where, at the time, we only saw imperfection.
That’s when I realized again why I paint.
Beyond the photograph
A photograph can remind us of what something looked like, but not what it felt like. A painting, though, can hold the emotion of a moment, the things that words or cameras can’t quite reach.
When I create a commissioned piece, I’m not simply recreating an image. I’m stepping into a story. The moment I start painting, I’m transported there with my client: the smells, the laughter, the warmth of the sun, the small things that made that place theirs.
But it rarely stays confined to one snapshot. A painting can hold many moments at once, the trail they always walked, the view they loved, the way their kids used to run ahead, the family dog trotting behind. It becomes a collage of memory, layered with emotion, adventure, and meaning.
That’s the part I love most: getting to know the people behind the story. Through our conversations, their personality begins to take shape on the canvas, not just in the figures or the scenery, but in the energy, the color, the rhythm of the brushstrokes. Each painting becomes as unique as the family it represents.
The art of remembering
Maybe you have a photo like that, one you always return to. A place your family used to visit. A day that still makes you smile. What if that memory could live on your wall, where you could see it every morning, instead of hidden behind a screen?
That’s what these paintings are about. They don’t just preserve a moment, they capture the feeling of a life well lived.
Because in the end, our homes should tell our stories. The ones that made us who we are. The ones worth keeping.
If there’s a memory you never want to lose, let’s talk. Together, we can bring it back to life, brushstroke by brushstroke.
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With gratitude and paint-stained hands, Martina
P.S. Don’t let the next story pass you by. Join Compass Notes below, my artist circle for collectors and kindred spirits who believe art should keep our stories alive.