Grandfather’s photographs of Hiroshima are a reminder of the distruction caused by man’s inhumanity to man, Christa Ackroyd
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Inside are random photographs not thought special enough to be placed in the family albums. Or perhaps, in the case of my grandad, photographs he didn’t want to be reminded of. Hidden among the hundreds therein is a little book of sepia images that I only recently discovered.
At first glance it is a bizarre collection of an uninteresting subject. Picture after picture of a desolate wasteland with twisted metal and piles of rubble, the occasional human figure caught on camera, but mostly of a barren landscape. It could easily be mistaken as a building site part cleared after post war demolition. Until you read the unmistakable, elegant, well practiced handwriting of my grandfather . Hiroshima, 1946.
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