A Study of Photography and the Moment that’s Already Gone
(No selfies allowed)
Hey, I’m not judging. I take selfies, always. Good ones. Shit ones. Filtered ones. Who cares? But most of them — I’m not in a thought process when taking them. It’s not a creative art flow in my brain. It’s a vanity analysis of how hot I can look. (What can I say? I’m a millennial who grew up on tabloid magazines, diet fads, Slim Fast, and MTV.) They’re not moments. Maybe moments of narcissism. But there’s nothing whole. There’s no moment. No people. No places. No memories. Nothin’s fuckin’ there.
But I recently looked at some old photos a few friends and real talented artists took of me over the years and thought… what’s going through their minds when they took that shot? Is it love? Delight? For the sake of art? Was it to capture a moment already gone? What was going through MY mind when they were taken?
This is my deep dive into a few photos taken of me over the years. An experiment, will you, to see what comes up.
You should know – I hate when people take pictures of me. But I always appreciate it when they do. We only take photos of things we care about, right? (Eh- I literally took an Instax of my workstation this morning. I do not give a flying fuck about my setup, laptop, etc. But the coffee the boy made me this morning, the flowers he picked me – I do care about.)
