The Scroll Killed the Stillness

On the Dilution of Photography

Everyone’s a photographer now.
A camera in every pocket. A thousand images posted every second. Likes, shares, scrolls. Swipe. Double tap. Gone.

That’s not to say there aren’t great photos out there—there are.
But something’s been lost in the noise.
Photography, once a patient art, has become a blur of fast content. A moment isn't lived with—it’s glanced at.
Three seconds of attention, if you're lucky.

I don’t think a screen can carry the weight of a photograph the way a book can.
Or a print on a gallery wall.
My favourite feeling in the world is standing in front of a photograph that catches me off guard—
the kind that sends a shiver down my back,
makes me feel what the photographer felt in that split second when they pressed the shutter.

Turning pages in a book, feeling the texture, letting each image sit with you—
that’s where the love happens. That’s where the work breathes.

I know the irony. I’ve got a website. You’re reading this here.
But if you’ve made it this far, I doubt you’re the swiping type.
And that gives me some hope—that maybe you're here to really look.

Because photography isn't about approval. It’s not about numbers.
It’s about seeing.
It’s about taking a picture for yourself first—because it moved you, because it meant something.
And if you’ve forgotten that, if you’re only chasing the thumbs-up,
then maybe you’ve stepped out of the darkroom and into something far less human.