My family is a funny group.  We’re all individuals (oh man, are we ever!), and we have our own personalities. I’m the one who’s always been a little off-kilter when it came to photographs.  At parties with friends & family, I’m the “ninja photographer” – the one who takes photos when you’re not expecting it.  I’ve been that way since I first had access to a camera.

Then there’s my brother, Jason.  A physicist by day, official press of the bay-area indy film circuit by night (seriously, he has press passes to some of the festivals).  When he’s not resolving the complexities of time & space, he’s doing what he does: watching movies (nice original title, bro).

I don’t want to say that he’s not big on photography.  His work in physics has involved gamma-ray cameras, but you’ll notice that he only uses a camera phone on his site.  He’s just not that big on most photos.  At one time he used to have a camera & took a lot of photos.  Then at one point he just decided that they were bad: people took pictures so they wouldn’t have to remember.  He wanted to remember, so he wouldn’t take any more pictures.

Well, that’s kind it.  And at the time, I thought “bullpucky.”  I mean, pictures help you to remember, right?

Wrong.

I’m not the first to suggest this, but it’s really hit home lately: pictures, the snapshot that we take at vacations & family gatherings – they tend to replace memories.  I look at my pictures of my daughter – she’s always happy, smiling, running.  Is that her? Partly, but not entirely.  She’s also strong-willed, insistent, fearless, and prone to sullen tantrums to get her ice cream now,dammit.  But even now, I look back to her old photos & only see her happy.

I suppose that’s a good memory, but it’s not the complete truth.

So consider that my rambling thought for today.