Pwy, Pryd, Ble

Pwy, Pryd, Ble ~ Who, When, Where


“All photographs are memento mori. To take a photograph is to participate in another person’s (or thing’s) mortality, vulnerability, mutability. Precisely by slicing out this moment and freezing it, all photographs testify to time’s relentless melt.”
― Susan Sontag, (‘Regarding the Pain of Others’)

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I wedi bod yn sganio cymaint o hen ffotograffau fel (is like) cerdded yn dawel o gwmpas mynwent. Mae rhai o enwau yna ond dim digon o'r straeon. Mae'r ffotograffau yn gymysg, heb gyd-destun, felly maen nhw'n ddirgel. Wel i helpu'r dyfodol (os mae'r dyfodol yn ddiddordeb) yr holl fy ffotograffau yn cario dyddiad a lle, weithiau pwy neu beth hefyd. Dyma friallu nos , yn y bore, yn ein gardd ni.
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To have been scanning so many old photographs as (is like) walking quietly around a cemetery. There are some names but not enough of the stories. The photographs are jumbled, without context, so they are mysterious. Well to help the future (if the future is interested) all my photographs carry date and place, sometimes who or what too. This is an evening primrose, in the morning, in our garden.
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Disgrifiad (Cymraeg): Briallu nos, yn y bore, yn ein gardd ni.
Description (English): Evening primrose, in the morning, in our garden.
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