Photographs tame the memory. They solidify a space which was much more vibrant. First of all, they are such scattered instants, selected for compositional clarity, color aesthetics, and pyrotechnical wow. On one level, the photographs are so far removed from the experience that they lose any connection with what they might mean to be "documentary." Sometimes the camera clicker wants to represent that moment that happens so often when glancing around, things fall into place, and some image just gets burned into the brain. Most aren't frantically searching to encapsulate the eyelash flash, and so the scattered assortment of accidents and unintention that are produced feature a drive alien to the motivations of others.

But maybe that's good. There is no unified objective, after all. The removal from that sort of intent could perhaps do something else. If it is not possible to catch what is in the internal subjectivity, then some sort of real truth might arise, might bubble up from the void. Intent does, in a way, destroy the documentary function of photography. But then it comes down to selection, searching for secrets in the faces of all these strangers - and friends; looking for disparities and contrast; finding stories that might never have been; selecting for what was mentioned above, composition, color, and light; all of which bringing personal opinion, a personal aesthetic, back to mix. Some avoid this problem and post every photograph taken during the night. It doesn't eradicate the problem, though. Every time you snap you select. Videographers only have to deal with the subjectivity of aim. They don't have to worry, until editing at least, about preferences of time.

Labels: Photos, Raves