Image credit: The Royal Institution
A photograph is a captured moment in time.
In a world of digital media and camera phones, photos of everything already exist. Don't get me wrong, being philosophical, the moment you capture is entirely unique and will always be. Stand ten people in front of the same subject and all ten images will be different, maybe subtly so, but different none the less. Take ten people and tell them to take a photo of an apple and you'll be faced with ten different apples.
But who needs ten pictures of apples?
Especially when it comes to social media, the first time you see a picture of an apple, you might say "great apple", it might even make you hungry. Fast forward to the sixth or seventh (yes, I know what I did there!) and you may start to have an adverse reaction to seeing "yet another apple", by the tenth and beyond, you may develop apathy, you may barely even see the apple, you might scroll without seeing it.
But, the photographer behind the tenth apple? It might be their first time photographing an apple, it might be an experiment with lighting that gave them the confidence to take more photos, it might have helped them learn a new skill.
Yet, to you, it's just another apple in a saturated market of apples.
built in obsolesence
We often joke that as the second child, less photos of me exist and this directly correlates to my parents love for me. I hope it's not true. As a rough estimate, I have seen less than 100 photos of me as a child. Conversely, I have over 600 photos on my phone of one of my three children. Each one a moment, each one taken for a reason, each one makes me smile and each one unique. Unless I take decisive action, these memories won't outlive my latest phone. At some point my storage will fill and my cloud storage costs become prohibitive - and the dreaded delete button becomes the only option.
The record gone, the memory unpreserved.
Obsolete.
Was there a simpler time?
I'm 43. My childhood predates digital cameras. If you're reading this, and you're a similar age then perhaps you'e experienced the joy of flicking through a photo album or rifling through a box of loose photos. Reliving the joy and the memory, over and over again. A single photo can help the photographer relive a memory with joy, the subject being sent back to that exact moment in time, a child laughing at the childhood version of their parent. If a photo is a captured moment in time, it shouldn't just live in that time right? It commands a little more respect than being a one off.
The top 2%
There are great photos in the world, whether it's 'Lunch Atop a Skyscraper' from 1932, 'Earthrise' taken in 1968 from somewhere near the moon or a number of other photos that changed the world. According to Rise above Research, worldwide 5.3 billion photos are taken daily, this is 61,800 each second. I googled "what are the odds of taking a world changing photo" and the maths - that may or may not check out fully, suggests the odds are one in 1.95 trillion.
Don't get me wrong, people take great photos everyday, and some of these people use these photos to carve a lifestyle and earn a living. If that's your aim and you want to enter into battle with algorithms and the rest of the photographers then I wish you all the luck in the world. While people are still doing it, there's no reason you can't. Chase your dream, but my advice would be to ensure you're enjoying the journey and not just chasing a destination. Your plan B should be "I didn't hit my goal, but I loved trying".
I'm one of the 98%
I'm trying to make sense of my photography. It's not my job, it doesn't pay my bills, in fact it costs me money. So far, in return for photography, I've earned some of the best steaks I've ever eaten thanks to Nempnett Pastures, a new tennis bag from Avon Tennis and some new tennis shoes curtesy of Cuurt. But more importantly; I've sat up front in a tractor, jumping out into a field of cows to shoot farm tours. I've met a couple who were simultaneously grieving tragic loss and celebrating pregnancy. I've had muddy cuddles from a husky after they've torn round a track, pulling the leading female sled dog racer in the UK. I've taken my daughter on a trip to a DIY shop to buy fake grass and white tape to set up an indoor tennis shoot. I've made lasting memories, I've smiled, I've connected with people, and I've made an impact.
How I'm making sure my memories aren't lost
Social media is fleeting. Social media moves on. What was once viral will pass. I'm making sure that my memories are stored for my future self and for others. I am taking digital media out of the digital world and making them physical. A tangible thing that can exist outside of a screen, a post or a WhatsApp group.
When used correctly, digital media is life changing. A long distance relative can keep in touch. A child can learn about the wider world. People can connect over common ground.
But when digital becomes physical, these moments live longer, live louder and reach further.
So, we're printing everything now?
Maybe not that extreme, but perhaps this writing might just make you think differently about your digital media. Think about why you took it, what you'd like to do with it and how would you feel if it was never seen again.
All I can tell you is what I'm going to be doing.
1) I am going to take photos that I want to take. For me.
2) I am going to immortalise some of my memories in physical media
3) I'm going to offer my clients the chance to do the same
I recently shot a charity event, the organisers have a deeply personal reasons for running it and the event was a success. I captured hundreds of smiles, hundreds of supporters. I am going to curate these photos into a small collection which, with a few clicks can become physical. A small flip book, low in cost but high in memories. It can exist in a drawer, until one day someone will open it, flick through the photos and enjoy the story again - and again. This won't be a sales pitch, this won't be an opportunity for me to make money on top, it's going to be offered because it feels right.
