Sometime in the mid 80s I drove out to the legendary Doc Watson’s home in western NC to photograph him for a state pub. Blind from eye infection before his second birthday, he later bought his first $10 Stella guitar with money saved from chores with his brother. In the kitchen on the morning I showed up, he offered coffee, pulled out a cup and poured the dark brew to the very top of cup, stopping perfectly before it would spill over the top. He smiled as he slid it across the counter to me. “Know how I did that?” he asked, feeling the question on my face. “I can hear it,” he offered. “I can hear it reach the top.” He won Grammy’s, played with the best and his music festival still draws tens of thousands - except this year. He might have been blind, but he could hear all right. All the good notes.
(These were originally 35mm Kodachrome transparencies we scanned and converted.)
Doc Watson’s braille pocket watch.