Musings on the performance of parenthood on Instagram.
I know myself. I won’t finish any of them. Instead of letting them rot in unpublished limbo, I’ve lifted each draft — each false start — and pasted them below, one by one. Perhaps together, these fragments might create something.
August was a busy month — weddings, time with family and friends, and exploring cities we’ve never been.
Such different life paths
From each other, and from mine
Yet New York City is like glue
Where these intersections materialize
Then I opened Instagram, ran a filter over it, and posted it — to send it off into the world to be liked and viewed for its moment of glory, and to shortly after join the stream of other Instagrams disappearing into our Internet wasteland.
I present to you my past month’s adventures in England and Scotland, via iPhone 4. With the exception of a handful of shots, most of these are Instagrammed.
Yes, I write about not knowing where or what home is.
That something is missing, that here isn’t quite right.
Then I walk around. I explore where I live.
And I’m reminded that things, truly, are fine.
I show a similar disinterest in my photography. Process and context are increasingly less significant. I’m preoccupied instead with creating the perfect shot for any given moment—worthy of an avatar, of a Facebook cover photo—and discarding the rest. A single unit is easier and faster to create—and consume.
I love experimenting with filters on static and solitary objects, clean symmetrical or diagonal lines, uncluttered compositions, and off-center focal points (especially with the tilt shift effect). Simply put, the app magnifies the gorgeousness of simplicity.
I’ve been in Istanbul for a week and have mainly used my new iPhone to take photographs. I was a (mostly disgruntled) BlackBerry user for three years until I got an iPhone over the holidays, so I’m very late to the iPhone party. And very new to Instagram, too. So, I decided to test out my iPhone camera and fiddle with filters (noted in parentheses).