It is somewhat of a vain effort for us to be our own archaeologists, striving to preserve ourselves moment my moment.

Photography itself is wonderful. I have the utmost respect for it, and when done properly, deserves high praise. Traditionally in the realm of art history, the artists agency is by taking a piece of the world, and being able to render it through their original perspective. This is what makes it art.

But, what happens when that is amplified. What if everyone took the same photos of the same places. What then, is a singular person offering that hundreds of thousands of others can’t? It transforms, and becomes a matter of preserving the moment, a way of remembrance rather than capture it in the traditional sense.

A photograph is holding on to a singular moment, preserving it. Yet, at the moment it is captured, it is also lost in time. It both holds and looses a moment indefinitely. It is within itself a paradox, an intellectual disagreement, a schism if you will.

Say Cheese!

When finishing the process of developing film, it is placed in a stop bath. This moment in time that has been captured is thus halted. One also halts at a stop sign.