Ephemerality
Nothing lasts. Things become other things. Here today, gone tomorrow. Fleeting moments.
Every day is filled with reminders of the same truth, that the things we know and love today will be gone tomorrow. Memory lasts a little longer, but only a little.
Many take this to mean that humans should fill our days with as much “living” as possible, grasping at the experiences that may be gone tomorrow, continually trying to fill our hands with water. That is appealing, and I do love living. But happiness might be found in a period of contentment and reflection, recognizing the impermanence of our experience and learning to value it, seeing the fleeting beauty and pain as an outward flow.
I was reminded this morning of one of the most prolific photographers on Glass. Every time I opened the app, I was almost guaranteed to see new work from this person. I went to leave a note on their latest photo about missing their work, but the person and their images have vanished from the app. Not just that they haven’t posted in a while, but their multiple profiles are gone. The people at Glass highlighted the persons’s work once and now that’s gone, too. I don’t want to cyberstalk, but a quick google with as much information as I know about the person only returns broken Glass links.
Glass itself—the only social network I still participate in (if we’re not counting YouTube)—seems in decline. Scrolling through the list of people I follow reminds me of how many have not posted any photos in a long time. Some days I think I can count the number of new photos I see on my hands (not very many, I have 10 fingers). I do attribute some of that to the air being sucked out of creative, reasonable people due to the larger societal hellscape. But for me, creating art and appreciating others’ art (not mindless, escapist content—art that elevates) helps make living in hell a little more bearable. If others feel the same, it doesn’t seem like Glass is where they’re finding what they’re looking for.
Nothing lasts. That’s okay. I love what the people at Glass built. I will continue to use it until it’s gone. I hope I’m wrong and more people will discover Glass, understand the value it offers, and help to revitalize the community there.
If you’re reading this and have participated in Glass in the past, know that your contributions there are valued and I miss you. If you’ve moved on to a different online photography community, let us know in the comments. If you’ve eschewed all online photography communities in favor of opportunities in meatspace, especially let us know about that.
As I look forward to where my own photography could lead me, I know that a social app isn’t the end of the road. I enjoy hearing what people think of my work, even if it’s just an “appreciation.” I’ll miss Glass and its unique blend of photos and personalities when it’s gone. But there are possibilities beyond the screen. I just hope I’ll continue to cross paths with the same people along the way.
My about.me page has a contact button that goes straight to my email. If you’d like to keep in touch outside the socials (which, full warning, I’m bad at), send me a message.
