Man at work. Seen on 231st Street in the Bronx.
I enjoy taking pictures with my phone and of course I’m not alone. Lately I’ve noticed, especially downtown, stickers and pictures are pasted to doorways and fire hydrants and the bottom of telephone poles. In an Instagram world, there’s a self-awareness about tucking things in small, semi-hidden places, so they can be discovered, photographed and shared.
I don’t know if that was the case here, but what the hell, who puts an L.A. Dodgers sticker on a subway platform in the Bronx?
Before I climbed the steps to the subway this morning I saw a cluster of small birds bathing in a puddle by the curb. I stopped and looked at them. My first instinct was to grab my phone, take a picture, put it on Instagram, email it to myself to use on the blog, to share the moment. But I didn’t reach for the phone. I just stood and watched, the birds flapping their wings and then one by one taking off. More taking their place. I took it in for myself and that was enough.
Now I’m telling you about it because it was a pleasant way to start the day. But I was also relieved not to photograph it, send it, share it, faster, faster.
[Photo Credit: Todd Gipstein]
Photography was once an act of intent, the pushing of a button to record a moment. But photography is becoming an accident, the curatorial attention given to captured images.