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| Isaac Feinn ('19) |
I walk inside, and the only sound I hear is the echo of my step as it reverberates through the colossal corridors of a Catholic Church. The voices of those in our group quiet as they join the hush of others staring down the nave, all wholly overcome by the gravitas of the ancient chapel.
Two rows of statues stare back at us from behind the altar; their gaze elicits Hebrews 12:1, saying to my group that we are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses who have stood for hundreds of years -- just like this building. Even beyond the stunning architecture, the history of the place overwhelms me. I am standing where people have worshiped since 1875 – people like J.R.R. Tolkien himself – and this feeling of immersing myself in their world sunk deep into my brain and paralyzed my mental faculties. All I could do was experience.
I could describe to the best of my ability exactly what I saw that day, but my words alone would insufficiently paint the full picture of the Church of Saint Aloysius. To help, take a look at what I observed:
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| Church of Saint Aloysius (England) |
Conveying scenes such as this one from my trip to England strictly through words would leave my listener starved of one of the country’s top qualities: overwhelming beauty. Thankfully, I spent a few minutes photographing what I saw, which now enhances my ability to share my experience with you.
My classmate Easton argues that taking pictures at a historical site dulls the experience, while I argue that doing so ensures that you can relive that experience for the rest of your life. Just because I spend a couple minutes capturing the beauty of my surroundings with a camera doesn’t mean I miss out on reveling in the moment like he does.
On the contrary, I would argue that my doing so actually enhances my appreciation of the site as I’ve now sought out the places where best the light shines, which angles encompass the most deliberate design, and most importantly, where in the place I can most fully appreciate the experience. Eight minutes spent photographing the superlative of my surroundings so I can in turn enjoy those pictures for the rest of my life is a trade I’ll always be happy to make.
Furthermore, broadly saying that taking pictures is a lesser form of experiencing a place pridefully assumes that the speaker’s alternative preference is superior. In reality, it is only that – a preference. For Easton, avoiding photography may produce a more full experience, but my inclusion of it also produces a full experience that cannot be quantitatively compared. Easton speaks as if he achieved a higher “experience grade” because he spent more time improving his score than me as I spent a couple minutes instead taking pictures. How could he say that he left those churches receiving a “10 out of 10” for experience, and I left only with an “8 out of 10?” He’s making a subjective comparison that has no tangible evidence. In contrast, I left with 10 pictures, while Easton did not. That comparison can be can be quantitatively compared.
Many object to including people in photos of a historical place, as doing so selfishly detracts from the site’s natural beauty. I agree to some extent, but I am primarily concerned with discussing how photography enhances a person’s individual experience of their visit, not how best to showcase locational beauty. National Geographic attempts the latter, and thus rarely positions people in photos meant for that purpose. Regarding the former, a person’s experience is inherently self-oriented, and saying that being in a photo “distracts from the beauty of the setting” misses the point entirely. I capture people’s immersion in their location because that in itself was part of the experience. If I wanted merely to observe the beauty, I would simply Google the location.
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| Capturing my McConnell Scholar classmates in front of Salisbury Cathedral. |
This brings up an important point: to ensure that photographing a trip is beneficial, it is essential to add your own uniqueness to your images whenever possible. This transforms a camera roll of photos mimicking those copiously found online into a chest of priceless mementos.
Ultimately, having photos to reflect on years later will resurface memories that otherwise may have become too buried to recall otherwise. Neglecting photography prioritizes momentary satisfaction over lifelong benefit -- and as previously discussed, without much momentary gain. The inexplicable feeling I will get when in my forties, sixties, or even eighties when I return to these images is so incomparable to eight more minutes spent not looking through a lens that I almost feel bad for those who opt not to photograph their experiences.
Moderation is important, but being moderate in your moderation is likewise important. And if ever there is a time to photograph to your heart’s content, it’s during those times when your heart couldn’t be more content.
Isaac Feinn, of Louisville, Ky., is a member of the McConnell Scholar Class of 2019. He studies biology and political science at the University of Louisville.