Three Generations

GEORGE AND SUNNY, Yardley, Pennsylvania, 1978
Black and white photograph created with 120 film, 20” x 20”, Artist’s Collection

At a family wedding, my father, George Landy, agrees to wear my mask. He chooses the smiling mask. He poses with my Aunt Sunny, who, though of a sunny disposition, places the frowning mask on her face. I explain the purpose of my photographs. The message doesn’t get through to my father, whose knowledge of art is limited. When I look at them together, I wonder why my mother is not in the picture. Sunny has a broad knowledge of art, and I recognize myself as artist in her face. My face is also recognizable on George, although when unmasked he looks and behaves very differently from me. He’s well-dressed as always, unlike me. He has nice eyes which I never noticed. They’re young eyes, like mine, looking out of the mask directly toward me as if he had something to say. He passed away long ago. I’ll never know what he wanted to say.

GEORGIE AND ROBERT, New York City, 2024
Digital color print, 20” x 20”,
Artist’s Collection

I’m feeling sad at a farewell party celebrating my daughter’s move from New York to Los Angeles. Georgie, my daughter, was named after my father, George. When I look at her in the frowning mask, I see the three generations of grandfather, father, and daughter. George and Georgie are mirrors of one another, and not in name only. And although I never felt there was much my father and I shared in common, I now see we are linked by a deep legacy. In her young life, Georgie mirrors so much of my journey. It’s hard to let her go. Georgie never knew George. I sang her the lullabies George used to sing to me. I know they would have loved each other as much as we love each other.