I wrote this on my infrequently posted to “writing about photography” blog.
Photographers, especially the newfangled internet age, history-clueless ones, love to glorify the “moment”. A term loaded with sentimentality and nostalgia, and intrinsically entwined with a sense of faux understanding of the most simple of photographic principles.
We understand, cameras work quickly. Moments are moments, minutes are minutes, and months are months. When was the last time, outside of a sexual encounter that you truly experienced one definite “moment” of ecstasy, especially with a plastic/metal device in your hands? A moment is not a measure of time, and it is not a measure of quality. I am c̶o̶n̶s̶t̶a̶n̶t̶l̶y̶ ̶a̶s̶t̶o̶n̶i̶s̶h̶e̶d̶ ̶b̶y̶ fucking bored with how many of these “once in a lifetime”, unique, starry-eyed, cross-processed, grain-laden, girl-in-high-waisted-shorts, moments are exactly the same.
The phenomenology of “the moment” is an outdated wolf in sheep’s clothing. “The Moment” with a capital M was a new concept when the cost of entry into the photographic medium was high, in both theoretical knowledge, as well as finance. Photography is no longer a privileged medium and, I believe, to be taken seriously we should stop treating it as such.
It has been democratized, for better or for worse (that’s not really any one person’s decision, or right to opine over…to do so would be very pretentious and entitled.). It is not dying, it is not some Mighty-Morphin’™ creature, it’s a means to put an image on a display media.
Compartmentalizing an entire medium and science of imaging into trite, saccharine soundbites doesn’t serve any positive purpose; and we would all be better off by not trying to put our personal aesthetic preferences into a box before we even have the proper vocabulary to describe them ourselves.