A Portrait Before Memory Fades: Photographing My Grandmother
Updated: Jul 4
My grandmother has been living with dementia for several years. But over the past few months, I started noticing it getting worse much faster. Our conversations became shorter, the silences longer, and little by little, pieces of the person I had always known seemed to be fading away.
I live in New York, so every time I fly back to Valencia, I'm reminded that time doesn't wait for anyone. This time, I knew I wanted to photograph her while she was still strong enough to enjoy the experience with me.
This wasn't about documenting dementia. It was about preserving the woman I have known my entire life. Before time took a little more of her away.
I wasn't exactly prepared. The only camera I had with me was my old Voigtländer Bessamatic, a beautiful camera, but one that likes to challenge me every step of the way. The light meter hasn't worked in years, the shutter button often sticks, and when you finally press it, the shutter usually fires about a second later. In photography, a second can be an eternity.
Still, I thought... let's give it a try.
Inspiration
Before taking a single frame, I already had two visual references in mind.
The first was the work of Charles Fréger. I've always admired the way he photographs people in uniform from around the world. Clean compositions, simple backgrounds, carefully balanced colors, and portraits where the subject becomes the entire focus of the image.
Photographer: Charles Fréger
The second reference came from an unexpected place: the Caribbean Social Club in Brooklyn. A few years ago, while visiting the club, I noticed a portrait of its legendary owner, Toñita, hanging on the wall. I couldn't take my eyes off it. A vivid pink background, simple lighting, and Toñita's unmistakable presence. Nothing else. It was proof that a portrait doesn't need elaborate staging when the person in front of the camera has enough character to carry the entire frame.
That portrait led me to discover the work of photographer Camila Falquez. The more I explored her work, the more I admired her ability to elevate everyday people into iconic figures. Her portraits are bold yet minimal, allowing color, posture and personality to do all the work. There's a quiet confidence in her images that I find incredibly inspiring.
That photograph of Toñita became one of the key references for this project. It reminded me that sometimes all you need is a strong subject, a carefully chosen background, and the confidence to let the person carry the image.
Photographer: Camila Falquez
Those two references became the starting point for photographing my grandmother.
Of course, she doesn't wear ceremonial uniforms like Fréger's subjects, nor does she embody Toñita's vibrant Caribbean energy. So the goal wasn't to recreate either image. It was to understand what made them work and adapt those ideas to someone completely different.
Logistics
The first challenge was finding the right background.
My initial idea was to use a brightly colored wall that would contrast with my grandmother and make her stand out even more. But there was one problem: almost every wall I found had the textured finish that's common in many Spanish homes, and it completely ruined the clean aesthetic I was looking for.
Next, I considered using traditional ceramic tiles. They're part of Valencia's visual identity, and I liked the idea of subtly grounding the portraits in the place where she has spent her entire life. I found a few interesting locations, but none of them were easily accessible.
With my grandmother, staying out for too long simply isn't an option anymore. Dementia makes her anxious and tired very quickly. On top of that, it was the middle of summer in Valencia, so we had to avoid the hottest hours of the day. The more I searched for locations, the more unrealistic the plan became.
Eventually, I decided to build my own set.
I walked into one of those neighborhood discount stores that seem to sell absolutely everything. As I wandered through the aisles, a Mediterranean blue roller blind caught my eye. It was simple, affordable, and exactly the kind of clean backdrop I had been looking for.
That became the background.
The setup itself was as improvised as it gets. I didn't have any backdrop stands, so I used a clothing rack to hold the blind in place. Keeping it perfectly straight without visible folds turned out to be harder than I expected.
I also didn't have any studio lights or flashes. Instead, I positioned the setup as close as possible to a north-facing window. I wanted soft, even light—not harsh sunlight—so choosing a window that only received reflected daylight gave me exactly the look I was after.
The north-facing window gave me the soft light I had imagined, but it also created a strong shadow on one side of my grandmother's face. Luckily, my improvised studio still had one surprise left. Hidden away in my parents' house was an old reflector I had bought years earlier. It hadn't crossed my mind until that moment, but it turned out to be exactly what the portraits needed. With just a touch of reflected light, the harsh contrast disappeared, leaving the quiet, natural light I had envisioned from the very beginning.
There was one more challenge: the heat.
It was the middle of summer in Valencia, and my parents don't have air conditioning in the living room where we had set up the backdrop. To keep my grandmother comfortable, we placed a portable air conditioner right beside her. You can actually see part of the improvised setup in the video below. It wasn't elegant, but keeping her cool and relaxed mattered far more than having a perfect studio.
Mum & Daughter
Before taking any photographs, though, one part of the process became unexpectedly meaningful.
My mother has been caring for my grandmother for years. As an only child, that responsibility has largely fallen on her shoulders. Between doctor's appointments, medication, cooking, cleaning and making sure everything is under control, caring for her has gradually become a series of daily tasks.
Somewhere along the way, she had less and less time to simply enjoy being with her own
mother. This project became an excuse to change that, even if only for an afternoon.
Instead of asking my mother to help me with the technical side of the shoot, I asked her to choose the outfits. My only request was that they should be simple: lightweight summer dresses in a single solid color. Either something that blended with the blue background or something that contrasted beautifully against it.
She went through my grandmother's wardrobe with her, taking dresses out one by one. Every few minutes my grandmother would ask what we were doing, forgetting the answer almost as soon as she'd heard it. Then they would smile, carry on looking, and a few minutes later the question would come again.
By the end, they had chosen three or four options together. On the day of the shoot, we narrowed them down to the two that worked best.
Looking back, I think those moments of them choosing clothes together may have been just as valuable as the photographs themselves. My grandmother may never remember that afternoon, but my mother always will.
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