Photos and Nothingness
I think I might hate photography. This saddens me, as I consider myself a "Digital Imaging Professional," but I suppose I must face facts. How else can I explain the antipathy I feel when I see people holding their camera phones in front of them like tricorders, gleefully snapping images of the inane? And while generally (though she might have you believe otherwise) I try to cater to my wife's every whim, when she wants me to take a picture of something or have a photo taken of me, I get grumpy and uncooperative.
In fact, I would estimate that only about ten pictures of me, as an adult, actually exist. That's how uncooperative I am. Which is really too bad, because a photo of me when I uprooted a tree with my bare hands would really help my case to the Justice League membership committee.
It goes beyond photos of me, though. Like I said, I'm just as uncooperative when it comes to pictures of things besides myself. Just a minute ago, I followed a link to a software developer's website, and when I saw the big photograph in the top right corner of the author posing on the deck of some kind of boat, I immediately closed the browser. I somehow felt that, because the photo was there, that this person was obviously retarded and could offer nothing of value.
Now here's where I try to justify this ridiculous and extreme personal neurosis through philosophical babbling:
Every single photo is of something that doesn't exist. "Things" exist not only by virtue of the space they take or the light that is reflected off of them, but by the area they take in the timestream. Exerything that exists, people, trees, rivers, whatever, is a continuum unto itself. And cameras can't take pictures of a continuum. Nothing can. Nothing, except your own brain. Photographs bastardize the element represented by plucking it out of context, stealing its "soul." This reinforces the flawed perception of time and existence as a series of moments, and cripples the brain in its ability to see and remember people and things as they truly are.
So there. It's either that, or I just hate photos because they debunk the lies I tell legends I create about my own past. And because I look fat in them.
Except I really did uproot a tree with my bare hands. That's true. I have witnesses.
In fact, I would estimate that only about ten pictures of me, as an adult, actually exist. That's how uncooperative I am. Which is really too bad, because a photo of me when I uprooted a tree with my bare hands would really help my case to the Justice League membership committee.
It goes beyond photos of me, though. Like I said, I'm just as uncooperative when it comes to pictures of things besides myself. Just a minute ago, I followed a link to a software developer's website, and when I saw the big photograph in the top right corner of the author posing on the deck of some kind of boat, I immediately closed the browser. I somehow felt that, because the photo was there, that this person was obviously retarded and could offer nothing of value.
Now here's where I try to justify this ridiculous and extreme personal neurosis through philosophical babbling:
Every single photo is of something that doesn't exist. "Things" exist not only by virtue of the space they take or the light that is reflected off of them, but by the area they take in the timestream. Exerything that exists, people, trees, rivers, whatever, is a continuum unto itself. And cameras can't take pictures of a continuum. Nothing can. Nothing, except your own brain. Photographs bastardize the element represented by plucking it out of context, stealing its "soul." This reinforces the flawed perception of time and existence as a series of moments, and cripples the brain in its ability to see and remember people and things as they truly are.
So there. It's either that, or I just hate photos because they debunk the lies I tell legends I create about my own past. And because I look fat in them.
Except I really did uproot a tree with my bare hands. That's true. I have witnesses.
posted by Dean at 10/27/2005 12:50:00 AM
1 Comments:
But I really cherish those 10 photos of Dean being grumpy and uncooperative, plucked out of the timestream and souless as they are. They're funny.
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