Between editing software and artificial intelligence, photographs are no longer trusted as presenting an absolute truth. It’s a different world from the one nearly 150 years ago when Eadweard Muybridge showed racehorses can briefly fly through the air. But even an unedited photo represents only one version of the truth. That’s because there is no such thing as a completely unedited photo.
Fibrous strands of red swayed just below the water's surface with the motion of the incoming tide. I loved the color. I loved the lines. I loved the serenity. As I stood up to my knees in the saltwater of Puget Sound, I was struck by the beauty before me.
But none of it was supposed to be there.
You will sometimes hear photographers talk about getting “the shot” — they captured what they wanted to get. If you were to compare photography to the way we commonly think about education, this picture is the equivalent of the diploma. It’s the reward. The achievement is complete. We’re done here.
This concept has some precedence in art history. Henri Cartier-Bresson was a French photographer of candid scenes and he was known for capturing “the decisive moment.” The elements in his photographs were so perfectly arranged that a picture taken even a split second earlier or later would appear obviously inferior.
There’s a saying about how Earth becomes smaller every passing year. There is an element of literal truth to that. Each day, several hundred tons of hydrogen, helium, and oxygen leak out of our atmosphere, more than offsetting the 40-some tons of asteroid debris and other space dust that enters. But the saying is really about how technology makes our world feel smaller.
With the internet, information travels across the planet at light speed. Commercial jetliners allow us to get virtually anywhere in under a day. But as the world feels smaller, we may feel smaller still. While the shrinking world puts more within reach, our influence seems to be shrinking, too. There are plenty of factors that make us feel personally insignificant.
