Chugrad McAndrews Photography – San Francisco Food, Advertising and Catalog Photography

When I had the good fortune to marry my wife, I also, of course, gained many new relatives. Among them was her grandmother. She was born and raised in the Andes in Peru, speaking the native language Quechua as her first language. She had 13 children, only 7 of whom lived to become adults. She has a deeply wise presence and a way about her that is rough, but unmistakably loving.

I am always fascinated by families and how certain physical and cultural traits transform with each new generation – there is always a strain of connection, sometimes more noticeable, sometimes less. Often, the same nose or eyes or lips or ears can be seen on every face in a family over 5 generations or more. I like seeing and making photos where the similarities and differences can be studied. On a cultural note, my wife’s Abuelita is fluent in her native language, my wife’s mother understands everything her mother says but can only speak about 80%, and my wife understands even less and can barely speak Quechua. Quechua is now officially on the “endangered list” of languages. They all three speak Spanish as well, although Abuelita struggles with it. My wife and her mother are also fluent in English.

I have had the opportunity on a few occasions to make some portraits of Abuelita. She has always been a very cooperative and eager subject and I plan to do little shoots with her every opportunity I get. As people get older, there is always a little uncertainty about how many future opportunities there will be to make images of them, so I often try to squeeze something in.

Have you ever seen a full-grown cow be cut into many tiny pieces and prepped for consumption? This may be a challenging visual for some but it’s perfectly natural. I mean, if one chooses to be a meat-eater, one should intimately understand the process of acquiring meat, and arguably know the intricate details of butchering, preserving, and preparing meat. The children at the scene in Peru were very accustomed to seeing this process, but back in the U.S., my mother didn’t appreciate the task of trying to “explain” these photos to my nieces who are 6 and 8 years old. Admittedly, I was a bit squeamish to touch the beast myself and kept to my role as photographer, but my wife was right there getting her hands bloody with the rest of the 6-person dismantling team. This cow died from an over-inflated stomach that, within 2 hours, put so much pressure on her heart that it stopped ticking (you could say a “natural cause”). This is not uncommon on the ranch but is still a great economic burden when it happens. These cows are intended for milking only – for the production of cheese, which they sell, but when one dies, the whole crew has to switch gears and butcher it immediately to make the most use of all the animal parts, feed many families, and even sell some of what’s left over.