The Ubiquitous Lens

I haven’t been to our nation’s capital in about ten years. The last time I was here was before the iPhone, before the iPad, before the avalanche of digital cameras, large and small, simple and sophisticated, in the world marketplace. I’m sure everyone was snapping away then on their film cameras and early digital back then, but this time around, as I was introducing my son to Washington, I was struck by the sheer number of cameras around me, and the ways in which people were taking photos. It got me thinking–about why we need to photograph the things we see, why we feel the need to prove that we’ve been somewhere through photography, that we feel a need to share our world, and our experience, with others.

Photographing Flora, United States Botanic Garden, Washington, DC

At some point in the day, surrounded by careening bodies with their heads in their smartphones, I stopped taking photos of the things that have been photographed so many millions of times, and started photographing the people photographing the things that have been photographed so many times. I was there, seeing the landmarks. My friends and family knew that we were in Washington, seeing these things. They have, themselves, seen these things in person, in photographs, in videos, in movies. I’m sure the same was true for many of the folks around me, and I’m sure there were a few for which all of this was pretty new and exciting. I started to think about, to wonder why we feel compelled to document ourselves in a place. To prove that we were there? To make our own mark? To build a chronicle of travel conquests? Probably some combination of all of these things, depending on the person.

Here we are! On the mall, Washington, DC

Even though I generally don’t take a lot of photographs of my family in front of whatever iconic monument we happen to be near, I still find myself taking my own photos of these things that we’ve seen, and seen, and seen again. Bolstered by the idea that nothing is original, I blithely go about creating my own images for my own purposes, in my own time. I was there, damnit! I made my mark, I have added these things to the chronicle of my conquests.

Say cheese! United States Botanic Garden, Washington, DC

Now, more than any other time, people have the technology to communicate their experiences visually, through images. They can share these experiences with others seamlessly, through the air. It is an age of miracles and social media. Now, more than ever, people have easy access to great technology, and are creating information apace.

And yet, the more things change, the more things stay the same. Access to the right brushes does not a Da Vinci make. There will always be those who take pictures, and those who are photographers (that sounds kind of snobby, and really–no really–I don’t mean it to). Maybe I should say, there are the home cooks–some of them very, very good–and then there are the executive chefs, working endless days in the kitchen, practicing, perfecting their craft over weeks, months, years.

Look! I was within mere feet of the Hope Diamond! Its aura passed on to me, even though I didn’t get to snap a photo.

Whatever your motive or skill level, people with cameras want to share experience with others, for whatever reason. For me, they are visual reminders of this moment in my life, of introducing my own son to some of our nation’s great treasures. They are also, to some extent, social commentary–this is the world we live in, check it out! Lastly, they are aesthetic baubles, things that I try to create prettily for their own sakes. You know, like art… or something.

And while I don’t begrudge or judge anyone for taking photos of whatever they feel inclined to photograph, I will leave you with a question: what do those throngs of people elbowing for a clear view of the Hope Diamond or the Mona Lisa hope for when they pull out their smartphone, or their tablet, their point and shoot or their DSLR? To capture its soul? To find the perfect angle that no one else has tried? To bring home a trophy?

I’m pretty sure that my photography is, at its root, a feeble attempt to freeze or slow down the relentless march of time, the pixels or paper and ink or silver halide documenting what was then, and is no longer.

Remember, I am not judging here, just navel gazing in the lobby of a hotel room, the cold rain falling outside, thinking about our drive back to North Carolina tomorrow.

I was there! Self-portrait reflected on the side of Skylab at the National Air & Space Museum.