on going analog
thoughts from a heatwave and a cracked computer screen
A few weeks ago, I came across a post by designer Ken Sakata. He shared that he’d taken to carrying a small film camera with him everywhere. As he went about his day, he would take photographs of whatever moved him, without any judgment about whether the scene was beautiful, or would produce an interesting photograph. Because it was a film camera, he wouldn’t be able to see what he’d shot until the end of the week, when he’d develop the film. And then, once he had the week’s work in tangible form, he’d pore over the images to see what they revealed about himself.
I was so taken with this idea, I decided to do something similar. I don’t have a small-enough film camera to take with me everywhere, but I did unearth a small point-and-shoot that fits easily in my bag. It’s old enough that it doesn’t have WiFi connectivity, and this is important: I’ve discovered that taking photos this way, without the immediate impulse to share on social media is … well, it’s freeing. It feels like the photographs are more for me. It’s a way to slow down.
This little practice reminds me of what it felt like when I first started writing online, in 2004. Not to get all back-in-my-day about it, but back in my day, blogging was a really fringe thing to do: most of us who started blogs did it purely for self-expression. We just wrote to write. There were no such things as “sponsored posts,” but there were blogrolls, which was how we bloggers ended up finding each other. And because we really were just writing about what was on our minds as opposed to giving advice or building a business, blogging felt really connecting. As weird as it seemed back then, the truth is that over twenty years later, most of my closest friends today are people I met because of those early, pre-ad-revenue-pre-monetization-pre-social-media-algorithm blogs. In so many ways, I miss the intimacy of the early aughts internet. I wish there was a way to bring that feeling back.
Speaking of algorithms: for whatever reason, all of my social media feeds and online subscriptions have been feeding me articles and accounts of how artificial intelligence is here to stay. I have to admit: I’m a complete Luddite when it comes to AI. Yes, yes, I know that AI can make life easier, that it can relieve the “drudgery” of work, yadda yadda yadda, but I’m someone who gets irritated when restaurants eschew actual paper menus for QR codes, so I’m not likely to change my mind. My reason for disliking AI isn’t (solely) because of the whole it-might-become-self-aware-what-about-Skynet-and-I-Robot-for-heavens-sakes thing. It’s mostly because AI (and, for the record, those blasted QR codes) creates a reality where we connect with each other less and less. In a world where I can’t be certain that the image was created by an actual photographer, or the artist’s bio was written by her instead of a machine, or the video isn’t a deepfake, then, well, why trust anything? Part of the reason that I read and watch and listen is because it used to be that whatever I was reading or watching or listening to felt like a tangible way to connect to the person behind the words and images. And to you who might argue, “Karen, I really don’t think that my using ChatGPT to compile my grocery list is going to affect how you connect with me,” I say, yes, but it’s a slippery slope, my friend. Today’s grocery list is tomorrow’s holiday cards, and I’m sorry, but I like receiving those cards with awkward pictures of your family and imperfect life-update notes! I delight in them! I display them proudly! Whence will come the holiday cards??
Sorry. It’s entirely possible the heat is getting to me.
So, the heat: last week, there was a record-setting heatwave in England. And while the temperatures were shocking for the region — topping 100F — coming from Houston, the outdoors didn’t feel that oppressive. (Houston’s heat and humidity are prodigious.). That said, unlike Houston, English homes don’t have air conditioning and are designed to keep heat in, so even with the blinds closed and three fans in constant rotation, the indoor temperature was in the 90s. It was so hot, I couldn’t think. To add insult to injury, my brand new Macbook developed an inexplicable crack in the screen (I swear I do not know how it got there), so I had to brave the heat to take it to our local Apple store to get it fixed. With no computer and stifling heat, there was no way I could work on my book, so instead, and since I’ve always loved playing with hand lettering, I just doodled.
What I ended up doodling are undoubtedly the jumbled thoughts of a heat-addled brain, but I’m sharing it here because — well, is there something really connecting about seeing someone’s handwriting, or is it just me? It reminds me of the brilliant blog by Jessica Hagy, Indexed, where her posts are entirely made up of her doodles on index cards. I’m also thinking of the snail mail clubs that seem to be popping up everywhere, where people subscribe to receive actual handwritten mail that is actually delivered to their mailboxes. Doesn’t that just sound like the best?
Anyway, I’m rambling. The upshot is this: between taking photographs with an old camera and whiling away hours doodling, I’m seeking ways to slow down, and go more analog. But I’m also thinking about how to truly connect with people, not “cultivate a following.” And I’m wondering if there’s a way to create more analog experiences to make that happen.
Just thinking.
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Really great article Karen. I completely agree about the power of photography to help us slow down.
Photography for me is about making me more aware, of noticing, of pausing and really savouring the everyday wonders
Me, too. Slowing down, getting more analog. (I still love mail and real books and my art is all hand done...on paper) Thank you for this very sweet post.