Surfing the Outer Rectangle

“It is she who explains that picture taking is no innocent act–that it is a dangerously subtle way we drive our souls into extinction. If this is not so why is it that the photographers always manage to arrive just when the tribe is dying out, just when the traditional practices lose power, just when the people are blinded by sorrow.” – bell hooks

For as long as I can remember I have heard that many cultures consider cameras to be soul stealing devices, but I filed away this information long ago with such stories as the one of the native who stabbed the Spanish soldier’s horse, thinking solider and horse all one beast, and watched in amazement as the man rose and slayed him. However, I have been revisiting the morality of photography, as well as simply its purpose, as I emerge from another holiday season full of digital image capturing devices, as well as wading through the digital archives of the year past.

2011 ended with a project which is fast approaching becoming an official end of year ritual in our family: the great rounding up of the year’s best pictures, to create a bound, hard-cover photo book (through an online service at no small cost) to have and to hold. This project, as with the vast majority of projects which involve the whole family, is midwifed through tireless labor by Amy, often with the help of Maya. (Need a music mix? I’m your man. Otherwise…)

After my usual initial scoffing, I must say I really like this sorting through the digital archives and making something of them. Otherwise, where do those pictures go? What do they do? I don’t suppose they rot, but I’ve heard files can become corrupt. Is that any different? It seems almost wholesome to take these thousand stolen souls and march them back through the reality machine so they become tangible and textual again.

I thought I was here to talk about soul stealing and instead I’m on the verge of an infomercial. Is it a plus for my life, my family and the world? Let me walk through this a bit. So I spend my year at key moments pulling out a digital image capturing device…Boom, I press the button and snap click get the image. My daughter sings on stage, boom, snap. My son builds a tower. Boom, snap. Two relatives are in the same room together. Boom, snap. Special moments, excitement, danger, it all begins to trigger in me the need to pull the trigger. Boom, snap snap.

Ah yes, I remember one of the ways it steals my soul: I stop being present. Picture taking steals the present. It’s like if every time someone offered you food you said, “THAT’S GREAT! GIMME THAT! I’LL JUST SHOVE IT IN THE FREEZER FOR LATER!” Is that what we are doing? Are we creating freezer-burned reality for our future selves?

Come on, Mr. Peabody. Lighten up. Smile. Say cheese! Can’t photography make us more present by focusing in on small rectangles of reality? by helping us to literally focus? But what happens to the outer rectangle? Man, that’s deep.

My friend John showed me a picture of a bottle of wine on his digital image capturing device. He said when he drinks a bottle of wine he likes BOOM SNAP he takes a picture of the label and then he has it. My friend Kevin was trying to find an adaptor for a donated computer the other day so he looked at the port it would need to fit and BOOM SNAP he had the image of the pins. Capturing images on our devices is a tool. It is supplanting writing and drawing in our functional lives.

Tonight I was going to read my kids a book but instead I just showed them a picture of a book. Way faster. Makes travel a lot cheaper and more efficient too. Here’s a picture of the Eiffel Tower, kid, now beat it. Don’t say I never take you anywhere. Hungry? Here’s a picture of a sandwich.

Of course, people aren’t taking pictures more because there’s suddenly been a reawakening to the artistic capabilities of photography. No, it’s because their phone can take pictures, good pictures. Used to be the phone rang (try to stay with me, kids) and you went over to where it was plugged into and/or attached to the wall, and you lifted off the receiver. The curly thick cord stretched out as you paced in the kitchen, talking, “Hi Ma. No, Ma. Yes, Ma. I will, Ma.” Cut the cord, shrink the phone to an 1/8 the size, put it in your pocket, go for a walk. See a green caterpillar munching on a leaf? Take out your phone and capture the image. You post it online and 17 people click a button to indicate they like it. Does that mean they like green caterpillars too or that they like that you thought to post an image of a green caterpillar for them to see? Presumably the green caterpillar doesn’t know its soul has been capture, converted through a process known as the Binary Solo into little zeroes and ones, then, at the end of the year, if chosen to be made real again, converted into the molecular density of photo paper, shipped back to the soul stealer, handled by little hands, set on a shelf.

The phone beeps, funks, riffs “Wasting away in Margaritaville…” Push a button and say, “Yo! What’s up?” Then, “Hi Ma. No, Ma. Yes, Ma. I will, Ma.”

Do digital image capturing devices steal our souls? I don’t know. I’m pretty sure the advent of faster, lighter, better gadgets leads to more time spent both taking pictures and moments later looking at the pictures you’ve taken. I’m pretty sure that leads to spending less time in the outer rectangle sometimes known as the life around you.

If I were to stab someone’s digital capturing device in the “i” would it kill it? Or would its owner suddenly rise up, laugh cruelly at my lack of understanding of the new world, and take me out of it?