Is the Camera Phone To Blame for Sabotaged Childhoods?
We are more interested in watching what we did than experiencing what we are doing!
What happened to those precious Kodak moments?
Over a couple of days, I observed the interaction of two sets of guardians and their respective four-year-old muses. One interaction left me achingly lonely; the other warmed my soul. More on this later.
I remember the days when each photograph was snapped with intention. Photographs were not limitless, and capturing them was ancillary to our lives instead of being the filter we experienced life through.
There was a time we cherished our quota of just 24 or 36 (depending on the film exposure) moments captured in time. And once we grabbed our frozen still into our camera, we only had faith and hope that we pressed the shutter button perfectly to claim an accurate replica of our mind’s eye.
We learned patience. We didn’t know any better. We didn’t have access to the instant gratification of swiping through the freshly captured images and zooming in for a better look before commencing the tiresome dance of retaking the shots due to a stray hair or 1% head tilt error.
After winding the camera on for the next shot, we had time to put down our weapons and take in our surroundings. Our senses came to life, connecting us to the environment through wafts of aromas or subtle noises, leading us to and inspiring us on our next potential muse.
Are we now absent in the moment?
Are we too consumed with scatter gunning photos and looking down into a one-dimensional screen to bother searching for the emotion in its purest form all around us?
If only we would look up.
When we have a scarcity of something, it is savored. We treat it with respect and gratitude.
Do you remember the tingling anticipation of waiting for a film to be processed and turned into real-life photographs? Rectangles of firm paper with sharp or rounded corners and smelling faintly of chemicals. Glossy or matt? You decide. Sometimes still warm like freshly baked bread and slightly sticking together.
The delight of journeying through precious memories a second time, days or weeks after the event. Shrieking and howling at faces caught off guard and swooning at the pictures that came out exactly as hoped.
My friend and I invented photo bombing long before the digital world existed. On our travels, we egged each other on to stroll nonchalantly behind a group of fellow tourists posing in front of an attraction. If we timed it perfectly, we managed to meerkat up, turn our heads, and grin just as the moment was captured. Oh, to be a fly in the wall when those images were developed. Sorry if I ruined any of your photos!
The fun was in the slow-time revelation. We didn’t get to enjoy the reaction to our silliness. But the imagination of it was good enough.
I was in my early 20s when smartphones became accessible. And with that came the selfie.
It wasn’t so long ago that asking someone to take a photo of you was cringe and gave off ego and conceited vibes.
Smartphones ruined my nights out with one group of friends. Nights that used to be filled with dancing and exciting chatter became photography sessions!
Seriously, pouting like trouts into the selfie screen, hair flicking, change of angles, and click click click click click a machine gun firing off shots. The next half hour was predictably spent pouring over the images, deleting the undesirable ones, and retaking. This cycle repeated until closing time. What fresh hell was this? Can we not just dance already? I thought.
An accurate observation by a fellow writer revealed something a little bizarre but wholly accurate.
She wrote that when reviewing selfies, everyone looks at themselves. They ignore their friends. She further explained that a way to discern a friendship level between people is to look at the images on their socials. A good friend won’t share images where they look good, but their friend doesn’t. Fake friends don’t care what others look like in images they share as long as they look good. (I forget the origins of this article, if you are familiar with it, please let me know, so I can link to it and credit the writer.)
Here are some horrifying selfie stats.
The average woman takes 3 selfies a day and spends five hours and 36 minutes a week on the “activity” yes, it’s referred to as an activity. Taking photos of ourselves! I’m proud to say I would be lucky if I took 1 selfie a week, and it takes me all of 10 seconds.
But five hours and 36 minutes! You could learn a new skill in that time, study or get fit. Instead of taking photos of yourself!
Here’s a question. Does anyone care about other people’s selfies? Or are we all doing that polite thing like when baby pictures get circulated, “ah cute, now look at mine?” We interact with others’ pictures because we want them to interact with ours. Does anyone really care? Are we all just talking over each other with photos?
Of course, people can do whatever they like. But I fear humanity is becoming increasingly superficial.
I spent a mesmerizing hour watching a dozen whales frolic in the ocean off the coast of Boston. Most people were more concerned about capturing the moment on a digital device. Eyes staring at a small screen limited their panoramic view of the delights happening in the periphery. Full-body leaps and tail slapping were missed due to the tunnel vision of digital mania.
An increasing number of people are motivated more by the lure of a spectacular photo than a life-affirming experience.
What about today? What about living for the moment? What about experiencing life first, then taking a few keepsake shots to help recall the experience?
And back to the four-year-olds I happened to observe.
It was early December. The first scenario was inside Edinburgh airport. I sat in the corner, nursing a piping hot coffee and watching people in their natural environment.
A flamboyantly decorated Christmas tree stood proud to my right. Suddenly a woman rushed over, towing a child sitting astride a kiddie pull suitcase. As if on a timed scavenger hunt, she promptly whisked the child up, positioned him in front of the tree like a prop, and placed his arms where she wanted them. Snap, snap, snap, and then they were away. The child’s head turned to look at the tree as he was dragged away.
What just happened?
I wonder if his childhood memories are a series of photo shoots.
The next day, I was walking my dog through the village when I passed a woman and a child. They stood at a local outdoor Christmas tree. No camera in sight.
Together they marveled at the decorations.
She picked the child up so he could touch the fluffy pompoms and giggle at the sight of his reflection in the baubles. They scoured the whole tree with their eyes and absorbed its aura into their senses. They lived and breathed the tree, capturing its magic into the Shutterstock of their brains and forming a new shared memory.
It was a joy and an honor to observe them bonding. The child was encouraged to explore his senses with every new discovery the tree provided.
I was struck by the juxtaposition of the different interaction styles between the woman from the airport and the woman here.
When we prioritize photos over experiences, are we creating a false life by living retrospectively? And what is it even for? Cheap likes, comments, and the approval of others on socials? Is it to kid ourselves?
Let me ask you something. Which child would you rather be?
The one with photo albums bursting full of events you don’t actually recall experiencing. Or the child with a memory bank full of nourishing and rich wonders of the world.
The thing is, it needn’t be one or the other. There is a happy medium in there. Get out from behind the screens and experience this world's full three-dimensional spectrum with all your senses.
🙏Thank you for reading my story Ali Hall
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