In a world where technology is constantly being developed and improved, I find it interesting that so many people are against taking photographs. Now, I’m not talking about taking photos for your Instagram or Snapchat story, because in these instances photos are a constant and endless stream.
But when was the last time you took a photograph of your friend studying in the park or noticed the way your skin glows during Golden Hour? When was the last time you walked outside and wanted to catch a water droplet on its journey to the ground?
It seems like these examples are something a photography major would take advantage of, but you don’t have to have experience with taking photographs to capture a moment and print out a memory. All you need is your phone, and most of us have that on us all day, every day.
An argument could be made that taking a photograph ruins the moment. In fact, a good friend of mine who loved The Secret Life of Walter Mitty expressed this thought on an excursion to Central Park. The sun was setting, adorning the trees with the colors of flames. Red and yellow licked at the leaves and I just felt it. Golden Hour.
However, in the film, Sean Penn’s character observes that a moment in real-time is much more special than one trapped in a photo. Experiencing the joy/sadness/relief/etc. that accompanies something special is enough to cement the image in your mind forever, and pausing to snap a picture will only make you remember the fact that you snapped a picture.
And there is some truth to this, there is. After all, I have a video from high school showing the lead singer of a band I liked blowing a kiss at me as he sang. I have the sweat pouring down his face, the purse of his lips, and the curl of his fingers on the microphone captured forever; but I don’t have the memory of locking eyes with him as he did this.
What I do have, though, is a photograph capturing one of the outings that cemented my friendship with the three girls I now call my roommates. I have the memories of lounging on a rock, my head on someone’s backpack, their feet planted next to me as we did our homework.
I even have the feeling of frustration as I tried convincing them to take the photo before the light disappeared for good, and then having to ask a stranger to take our photo while we posed quickly, our smiles lopsided.
The moment wasn’t lost to the photograph; rather, the photograph recalls my memories of that day that much easier.
The next time you’re outside and something catches your eye, maybe take a photo. You can print it out and frame it, hang it on your wall, make a photo album or scrapbook, if that’s what your heart desires. Take it out every now and then and remember. Remember the feeling of the air—was it sticky, or stale? Remember laughter carried on the breeze, the sweet pain that seized your stomach and made you unable to breathe.
For years to come, when you have too many memories to reflect upon at any given moment and need something tangible to grasp in your fingertips, remember.
