In an interview with Dangerous Minds, author William Gibson reveals he has given himself permission to not take photographs when traveling. His reasoning?
When I visit a new place what I’ll value most, after I’ve returned from that place, is the peripheral feed. It’s sort of why I’ve decided—that I don’t like taking photographs when I travel. And I’ve given myself permission not to—now that I’ve given myself permission not to take photographs when I travel, the reason I’ve never been fond of it is that it gets in the way of the peripheral feed. And the peripheral information is what I will ultimately make the valuable memory out of.
In Jim Jarmusch’s Mystery Train, we see Jun (Masatoshi Nagase) taking photographs of objects and places most banal. He photographs the wall at the cheap hotel. He photographs an open suit case. His girlfriend asks him why he photographs things that don’t make any difference and why he doesn’t photograph anything important like Graceland or Sun Records. To paraphrase:
The important things will stay in my head long after I have experienced them. The small things are what I will forget. This hotel room. That rug. I need these unimportant things for my memory to be complete.
Why do we photograph? Is it so we can remember the things that will otherwise fade? Is it to create or re-write our narrative past and help us with the continuity of our lives? Do we eschew photography in favor of our own sepia’d nostalgia? In the end, do we imbue photographs with meaning and narrative of our own making?
What do you notice when you make photographs? What do you notice when you don’t?
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