a front-row seat
As we quickly approach the holidays and spending time with loved ones, I wanted to share a blog post I recently stumbled upon titled "This life gives you nothing." In it, the authors — journalist Jonah Weiner and design scout Erin Wylie — illustrate something I strongly resonate with: the idea that screens and our online lives shape the way we view and experience our real, in-person lives.
The post, from the Blackbird Spyplane blog, beautifully captures how smartphones and social media have changed the ways we relate to the world, and how this relationship isn't neutral — often, it's negative. I highly recommend you read the whole piece.
In my post, however, I want to call attention to the entry's following excerpt:
"The problem is that the cameraphone, connected as it is to our online lives, doesn’t just serve the creative impulse and stop there. It risks cannibalizing that impulse, co-opting it, colonizing it, and ultimately thwarting it. Because the cameraphone allows us so readily to stop noticing the thing we’re photographing, and instead to outsource our experience of experiencing to the phone, much like we’ve outsourced our sense of direction to Google Maps.
What’s more, when you start shooting video at the concert, your experience of watching Spyfriend Cameron Winter perform in real time is captured and subordinated by your desire to commemorate that experience for some vaguely imagined Future You, and/or to post the footage for the benefit of some vaguely imagined Impressed Other People.
This ultimately makes you more absent, and less present, to your life. And yet, again, I suspect that trying to rack up faves on a pic stems from something wonderful, which is our communal urge to share our experiences with other people: Are you guys seeing this sunset??"
As I read this part, I was reminded of attending Taylor Swift's Reputation Stadium Tour in 2018. The Christmas prior, my sister gifted me a ticket to the show — and this wasn't just any ticket. My sister and I would be watching from the Snake Pit (or, for those less familiar with the Rep Tour, the VIP section in front of the stage).
The Snake Pit didn't have reserved seating, so on concert day, we sprinted to snag spots in the front row. As we stood by the front barricade, I remember looking up at the towering stage set, then turning to see the massive stadium behind us. It all felt so surreal.
As we waited for the concert to start, I was ecstatic — but that wasn't all. I also felt an immense, self-inflicted pressure to capture this one-in-a-lifetime experience, not only for my own keepsake but also for the "Impressed Other People" who otherwise wouldn't see the show this up close or at all.
