It used to be that pictures mattered. They weren't taken lightly, snapped with nary a pause at the slightest provocation. We used to participate more and record less maybe - to experience the world presently and directly, without a screen mediating memories, constantly distorting light to capture the colors of the moment. Pictures were saved for special occasions: stones to mark the miles of lives: births, graduations, proms, weddings.
Ties, hair appointments, corsages.
Family. Nerves. Sweaty palms.
Poses, forced and otherwise.
They were printed and held. Slides were saved and shoeboxes everywhere found second lives. Photos were not taken with phones or texted to a person across the bar, Tweeted. Film developed.
An economist would say pictures were more valuable then. They were scarcer. I don't know if I necessarily agree. But I do know that this one is priceless. And that it makes me feel something powerful, knowing that the moment it captured for all eternity meant something special.
Noma and David Reine... from when pictures mattered.
I miss you, mom.
