Future Fotos

Sometimes I find myself prematurely nostalgic. I'll pull myself out of a moment to relish it, preserve it, turn it over in my mind's eye before it vanishes, leaps, changes. Lately, this has taken the form of future fotos. Last Sunday I saw myself in a future foto: draped over the lap of a friend, hair falling into my eyes, laughing in vacant, cool air. I saw a hypothetical moment in the plastic of a polaroid. It was the strangest thing. Photos are, of course, a means of encapsulation. Their beauty is in their summation and precision. But of course, a photo can never properly summarize a moment (can any art form appropriately capture the majesty of one perfect minute?) so why am I pushing and shrinking the present into a future and inert replica? I have no idea. I only know that of late, photography is speaking to me. The click of the camera, the weight of the body in my hands- it's immediate. I guess immediacy and grace are the two things I'm lusting for. Tomorrow is my 22nd birthday (and by tomorrow I mean in 14 minutes). I hope to have the sort of day/ night/ revelatory sequence that keeps me satiated all the way through---> the type of day that includes no future fotos. Do you know what I mean?