A Trip To The Aquarium

This by holiday weekend I took a trip to the Baltimore inner harbor with my girlfriend to go visit the National Aquarium. She had never been and it'due south a place I've been countless times both every bit a child and in my developed years. I love going to watch all sorts of exotic fish and animals as information technology creates a genuine sense of wonder for me. Some of them are so beautiful, some of them very ugly, and all of them have this enchanted way of living their life in these tanks, seamlessly swimming and floating in their captured globe.

In that location's something immeasurably enchanting virtually watching these creatures – some then unrecognizable from anything around united states. When I went this weekend, all of those feelings returned to me, despite the crowds, and I couldn't help but recollect that I wasn't the only one who felt that fashion. Merely then I noticed a nasty addiction forming effectually me – cameras, lots of cameras. Flashes. Red lights. And it bothered me.

Now granted, for full disclosure, I brought my Canon point-and-shoot myself. At that place's no uncertainty when y'all brand a drive to a place like the Aquarium in the cute inner harbor that you lot'll desire the possibility, at to the lowest degree, of taking a few pictures. Yet, it wasn't necessarily the cameras themselves that were bothering me. If I had a nice DSLR, I definitely would bring that with a nice prime lens to shoot some breathtaking photos. In that sense, it'southward more of a hobby.

What I saw over the weekend, however, was more photography for the purposes of memory. For showing off to Aunt Betty and Uncle Joe on a slideshow. Fine. Understandable. I can accept that. Plus, at that place are tons of cool fish and animals at the Aquarium that if I didn't live so shut to it I would probably snap a bunch of pictures as well.

Simply that's still non what bothered me.

What was bothersome about the cameras were the amount of people who were walking up to exhibits cameras on and in paw, snapping pictures, then moving on to the adjacent one. Their unabridged experience of that exhibit took place through the LCD eye, looking at that tiny screen on the back of the camera. It had me asking myself whether they could really appreciate what they saw?

For 1, information technology seems to me that to truly be able to capture the beauty or interesting function of an paradigm, it would help immensely to run into it with your ain eyes and ask yourself what is the essence of the bailiwick and how exercise I convey that in a photograph? Secondly, what's the point of only viewing the fish through your camera both during and subsequently the trip? If all you wanted was some pictures of these fish, Google images would exist happy to oblige without wasting your time and money.

That was the crux to me. At some exhibits I stood for ten minutes watching, wondering, affectionate and still these goons snap, snap, snap and motion on. Where'south the value in that? Do the pictures even mean as much if you didn't actually watch the fish or creature?

One of the few pictures I did take: a panorama of the Baltimore inner harbor

I'm not bashing motion picture taking at all at places like this, exist information technology an Aquarium, a Zoo or any other place that lends itself to natural, spontaneous beauty. In fact, I even took some myself – although more often than not videos due to the low light and my aversion to flash a bright bulb in an unsuspecting fish's face. Merely, what the picture should be, to me, is a reminder. So, I watched the fish for awhile, would take my picture, then watch it a fleck more. I wanted to see information technology with my own eyes and written report it. The moving picture was just something to help me remember what I felt watching.

Maybe I am the only one who feels this way. Who approaches these things with a "stop and odor the roses" sort of mental attitude. I don't desire my earth to be viewed through an LCD screen or a viewfinder. I'd rather appreciate the visceral intensity of being there than take it captured in a photograph.

In the end, it didn't ruin my trip, but it did make me remember that sometimes we should put our cameras back in our pockets. There are times where the moment is more valuable than the pictures and the memory serves itself without the help of a visual. After all, if what I wanted was some pictures of amazing creatures, I'd settle for some Discovery Channel. Or I can just wait until 3D photos take over all sense of being there.