Last week I went to an amazing concert. I don’t know if everyone in the concert hall was of the same opinion, but there were definitely some who insisted on ruining the mood. Yes, I’m talking about that group of people trying to record the moment with a telephone in their hand. This group—who, despite being reproached numerous times, continued recording like mischievous students as soon as security left their side—was not only sabotaging their own enjoyment but also preventing mine. Due to this superfluous instinct to record, I was literally watching the concert from a glowing, stupid square instead of on the stage. I tried to free myself from this angle by shifting my sitting position.
Then I thought about the feeling I had during the Audrey Hepburn exhibition last month. I had smiled when seeing the ‘Photos Prohibited,’ sign at the entrance, but also couldn’t help but think that I wouldn’t be able to shoot images of the photos. Yes, in the end I didn’t shoot any photos. And that is probably why it’s one of the exhibitions I remember most clearly. Because I really looked at each one. I didn’t fool myself into thinking that I would shoot a photo to look at later. I looked for a long time, thought, and smiled. I slowly read the anecdotes about those moments and outfits and brought them together with my previous knowledge. I elongated the stories and left an exhibition with joy and many images present in my mind.
And now I ask those recorders at the Hiromi Trio concert, did you later watch what you shot? And did those mechanic sounds and visuals really satisfy you?
Wishing that we all get rid of those screens blocking us from our real lives,