The most important thing photography has taught me is to not photograph. I almost never carry my camera around, but in case I feel the need to document I use my trusty iPhone. We millennials, through technological and photographic breakthroughs, have adopted the essence of documenting as the accepted way of living, capturing what our life is or supposed to look like. While creating a historic data of either your life or the world around you is important (and personally gratifying) it can also highlight the existence of the fleeting moment.
There have been times where I've let my camera just hang over my chest while I'm shooting live music. At rare and remarkable times I've experienced a mix of raw emotions intertwined and inexplicably real: I close my eyes and feel peace, urgency, and gloom—all at the same time, knowing the moment is completely unrepeatable.
This physical experience is totally audible. What you are watching on stage is not necessarily the visual representation of what you're feeling. The music travels through your ears and connects to your heart in such a way that it seems like they have their own secret tunnel or pathway inside your body. What this trigger might have been is somewhat irrelevant (though most might appeal to a specific memory) but the stillness, the slow motion of it is making you feel present. And instead of letting the camera in to see what I'm seeing, I let the moment live and rest in an intimate part of my brain.
