I have no camera. It went dead. It may be the battery; I'll find out tomorrow. Like an idiot, I don't have a card reader with me, but today I took an interesting picture, so, not being able to show it to you, I will tell you about it.
Everyone in surveillance pictures seems sinister. The surveillance camera is a machine, disinterested in artistry. Its superior angle makes humans seem small.
There was a time when photos spoke of artists, of the lone, human observer, and were generally considered art, in part for that reason. Photographers love to talk about a particular photographer's vision, about processes of selection and framing shots. But the connection between the brain of the photographer and the image produced has always seemed a bit shaky.
Some would say that I am wrong to believe that there are things that should not be photographed. Yet many pictures taken on September 11, 2001 have not been publicly displayed. I am not a surveillance camera; there are things that make me turn away, and I assume others would, as well.
But in the future, everything will be recorded, from the bombings of cities to a ripple in a field grass, if there are fields of grass in the future.
The camera has an electrical problem, or the battery does, or the camera has simply gone to Jesus and joined the Choir Celestial. I don't know. The fact is, the camera is--or was--several thousand times smarter than I am. Probably. So little that we mere humans know for sure.
Postscript: I have since replaced the camera and found the picture I've described here.
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