This morning, this view sent me to find the camera and snap some shots. And now? Meh.
What can I say? It looks better in real life. The birch is green and fresh in a way that even cropping can't show.
See? It's fine. Not special. It's interesting to me because I live here. But it doesn't communicate what I want it to.
There's a lesson in here, too. Maybe the same one: some experiences just can't be captured. Maybe none can--maybe experiences can be only interpreted in a different medium. And some media work better than others. Some experiences translate better than others.
So, real life is different. In some cases, better. In others, just different.
As someone who spends a lot of time in her head, and who spends much of the rest of her time trying to capture experiences in words, this is another good lesson.
Real life is always different, and that's the point. That's why they call it "art" or "writing" or "photography" instead. Duh. Sometimes I'm a little slow to the party.
But I will keep taking pictures--not so much to see if I succeeded in a particular goal, but out of curiosity: what picture will this turn out to be, really?
