Memory vs Photography

I used to take a lot of photos.

It started in high school with my first point-and-shoot. I’d set up at the end of my desk and record lectures in AP History. Then I’d go to orchestra and capture peace signs and smiles.

Everything about it seemed so thrilling. I was documenting life and counting on photo albums to show me the meaning of it all.

Fast forward a few years and I got a job with Red Bull. My alleged duties were to plan events for the collegiate market and extend the brand goodness to impressionable twentysomethings. But all I really did was take photos. By this time I had a Rebel T2i, so my precious moments were upgraded to high definition.

If I wasn’t shooting 8oz cans I was compiling blog posts for my first company. My external hard drive was unstoppable. Then a thief broke into my car and stole everything: a Red Bull book bag filled with sugar-free product and my hard drive. I’d never again have access to General Sherman’s demise or those early career moments of ambitious Asian kids in my orchestra class.

After getting screwed over from a new job contract I stopped using my camera. Part negative mental trigger, part burned out. I had taken enough photos for a dozen lifetimes, and I didn’t even have the megabytes to show for it. So I stopped taking photos, and I still don’t to this day.

The other afternoon I scrolled through my iPhone’s photo album. There were 672 moments from my first BlackBerry to my iPhone 4 and most recently the 5. After calming my nerves I deleted everything. Life goes on and I don’t need a 4-inch screen to remind me of it.

We only capture good memories in fear we’ll forget they happened. Then we go to therapy and read self-help books to purge the bad memories because their recollection haunts us inescapably. I don’t think our memory is the problem, yet we offer cameras as the solution.

With Spring finally underway in New England it’s not unusual to witness blossoming Central Park flowers getting raped by macro lenses. In the midst of all this natural beauty, the open minded intellectuals of New York City would rather see the world through a viewfinder than appreciate the big picture:

My life is 3D, and a photo will never capture that.