Revisiting the world through my own lens

At the top of NYC looking out | Photo credit: Juxxtapose

Every now and then, I look at my digital photo archives of wonderful places I’ve visited abroad, and I long once again to revisit these places – to soak up the feels, eat the food, and be a part of the culture. I tell myself that I will surely revisit those places if I get the chance to.

I have said before that I am more inclined to see new places (as opposed to revisiting places I’ve been to before) while I can, since time and money are limited. Yet, I am starting to miss the places I’ve been to, and so I think I’m starting to understand one of the reasons people like to revisit holiday destinations. I get the strongest urges when I look at my old photographs.

Credit: http://www.diyphotography.com.au/?p=39

Because your own photos capture moments according to how you see them, they bring with them specific and personal memories associated with the place. Looking at said photos remind you of that particular moment the photos was snapped – something that no one else can experience but you.

Before the Rain Came

In my previous post, I told you about how it started pouring on our trip to the Ring of Kerry. Well, before that, we saw one of the most beautiful landscapes we saw on our trip.

Photo credit: Juxxtapose

Bur first, in front of that, was the prettiest, most nonchalant dog, lounging on an Irish donkey. Can’t decide which of the two animals I liked more. I imagine them thinking: Oh, another one of those green buses. We’re going to get those rectangular gadgets shoved in our faces again. We’re such superstars, obviously more worthy than the supposedly stunning valley behind us. Totally embodying the definition of self-assured.

The trouble is, I don’t even know which valley this is. It had a babbling brook running through it, and looked so peaceful and happy.

Photo credit: Juxxtapose

I’m finding it hard to put to words what we saw. The photos don’t seem to do the place justice. Perhaps we remember how we felt as we stepped out in front of it more than the details of the place itself, and that memory alters the reality behind the memory we store in our minds.

We don’t remember the details. We remember how we felt when it happened.

Photographs

It was strange. I was just staring at the photos hanging on my wall, thinking about which wedding photo I would like to have passed down to my future children and their children and so on. Wondering which photo alone fully captures the essence of that day.

And then it happened. It suddenly struck me that my children would probably not feel the same sentiments I have to my truckload of photos. Photos with my friends, photos from travels, etc. They might still keep my wedding photos for keepsake and of course, family photos. But what would my picture of, say, the Great Wall of China mean to them? Probably not much, definitely not as much as when I look at the photo myself.

Then I wondered what they would do with my digital truckload of photos when I die. What is the point of keeping photos if no one looks at them, when the photographer herself is no longer around to enjoy them herself?

To me, photos are attempts to capture moments and memories. A third party looking at a photo will never understand it as fully as the person who was taking the photo. Memories can never fully be shared with someone who wasn’t there. And just as memories disappear along with a person who has passed on, the photos will also no longer serve its purpose, unless there were others present in that captured moment.

Instead, I hope that through my photos, they see the world as I saw it. That they are inspired to live the life they want. That the smiles of my friends, whom they may not have met, show them the blessings of good friendships. And that they too will be encouraged to build their own memories, and in tow, their own truckload of photos.