Review by Ott Cefkin

I was a newspaper reporter for nearly 25 years and worked with many photographers, but there were very, very few whose work jumped off the page.

Of course, this phenomenon was infrequent, but when it happened it was obvious, something special. Such pictures not only told the story in a unique and dramatic way, but actually captured the moment; a human transaction not soon forgotten.

Such is much of the work of Lauren Grant. Some photos will jump out at you, like a black and white take of an aged Mexican Indian grandmother trudging along a street with a monstrous load of goods - braced only by her neck and forehead.

The image is hard to shake and you find yourself wondering about the woman's life and her years of thankless toil. It's as though she is expected to bear these onerous burdens.

Other photos—whether in color or monochrome—inspire stories beyond what we see and are to be savored, like fine wine, until all that is hidden or not immediately seen, is discovered.

There are a number of such photos, such as the shot of on old church situated on an un-swept calle in Central Mexico. There probably was little to distinguish it from other parishes apart from three crosses painted on a street-side wall.

Crudely done in black, the first of the crosses had been painted over what was apparently a large red mass; now badly weathered over the years, it no longer resembled blood.

Then, unseen at first glance, an old pitted bell that once summoned the faithful to worship takes shape. Obscured by a metal gate, we see that it rests on a concrete slab, a testimony perhaps to a more spiritual time.

Outside the gate, rust colored splotches lay like decaying leaves on a sidewalk in uneven clumps. Was it meant to be blood? Then returning to the crosses, we notice they are bare and a picture comes to mind: the days that followed Calvary some 2,000 years ago.

In capturing of critical moments, I was taken by a number of black and white photos. One caught a young boy beaming in sheer delight because someone was paying serious attention to him and took his picture.

Seated on a steel bench with his older sister, the holes at the knees of his threadbare pants suggest his poverty but for the moment he was rich with delight and a joy that comes from unwarranted recognition.

In this safe and happy scene, the photo is crowned with the presence of a dog, blissfully asleep underneath the bench.

In the area of relationships, there is also a remarkable picture of two children, brothers standing on a bench in the undergarments. Their backs are toward us and we can't see their faces. But the photo, taken at the precise moment the elder child put his arm around his younger brother and leaned toward his ear to share a confidence, spoke volumes about their relationship.

Of the photographs I was privileged to consider—in black and white and color of various textures—I was left with more than pictures.

Ott Cefkin is a former Entertainment Reporter for the Sun-Sentinel, and the retired Media Relations Director for the Broward Sheriff's Office.