By Sophie Sim (27S05A) 

All photos courtesy of Orlando Khoo (27S06F) unless otherwise stated.

Scrolling through my camera roll, I see all the events I’ve been a part of, all the outings I’ve been on. But if asked to pick my favourite event, I would hesitate. Because even the best pictures on my camera roll are rarely the best memories of my life. 

The most fun moments of my life would come out as the most blurry, low-res pictures ever: where someone’s eyes are closed, when the lighting’s terrible, and nobody is posing properly. 

It’s these moments when nobody cares about whether the photo turns out “glam” or not, or whether to post on “spam” or “main”, when the only thing on everyone’s mind is just laughing, crying and even bickering with one another, when we feel that we are living for ourselves, not to showcase to anyone else. It is at these moments that people have the time of their lives.

Shifting Intentions: The Sad Paradox of Documenting Life

“You’re not a display.” is what my mum told me as I was preparing my post-concert Instagram post. 

Indeed, when you step out of the concert hall or NSG event and immediately see a flood of stories on your social media feed, it is hard not to feel the urge to post too. To prove that yes, I was there. Yes, I did this too. 

This is the subtle digital performativity brought about by social media. The collective urge to record everything about your life creates this cycle, where when we see others posting highlights of their event, it pressures us to post our own events to document our own lives—to offer indisputable evidence that we went for this event, that fun was had, that we are living just as fully. This gradually warps the purpose of going to social events, such that the representation of the experience becomes more important to us than the experience itself. 

This is saddening because moments are inherently valuable just because we experience them, emotions are valuable because they are uniquely ours, and is what makes life feel grounded and real. Yet, social media has now created an anxiety that undocumented joy is somehow wasted joy—that if the moment only exists in your mind, it lacks value. 

This defensive loop is all the more tragic because more people are trading genuine emotion for curated digital currency, living for the audience rather than for themselves. And although this can make us feel admired, it is fleeting and superficial, and ultimately leaves us feeling more alone. 

So I wonder: Does every moment really need proof? Do you really need affirmation for everything you do in life? And from whom? 

Why do we reach for the camera?

“There is a difference between recording the whole concert and taking a few quick photos.” (Reddit)

So many people have the urge to record the concert that even Jennie from Blackpink commented that Blinks (Blackpink fans) seemed to be more focussed on capturing the show on their phones rather than the concert itself. 

It is understandable that people feel the urge to record the moment, because despite wanting to purely enjoy the moment, it is a fact that human memory fades, and it is also a fact that humans have a desire to preserve joy. 

People value photographs differently. To some, sharing photographs on social media may serve as a form of self-expression or validation. To others, photographs may be treasured keepsakes that allow them to revisit meaningful experiences long after they have passed. 

Historically, photographs were revolutionary as they served as a visual record that evoked emotions and memories transcending time. 

In On Photography, Susan Sontag writes: “A photograph is not only an image (as a painting is an image), an interpretation of the real; it is also a trace, something directly stenciled off the real, like a footprint or a death mask.” 

Photographs hold such emotional power because they do not simply remind us of the past. They serve as tangible evidence (a footprint) that the people we were with, places we went to and emotions we felt were once very real. 

And after the moment is gone, we sometimes just need something to relive it. To remind us of the versions of ourselves we once were, of the friends we cried and laughed with, of moments when we really loved life. Something to bring us back to those good old days and make us feel happy. 

In this sense, photographs are valuable because they are not merely records but vessels for memory, immortalising it. Yet, there is a distinction between preserving a memory and experiencing an event through a screen. 

The cost to focusing wholly on recording the experience is that it may instead cause greater detachment. Research shows that our memory is worse for things that we’ve photographed. This is known as the photo-taking impairment effect. When people outsource their memories to a device, they end up remembering fewer details of it than those who just looked at it. 

Photographs can help us preserve meaningful moments. But when documenting the experience to display to others later becomes the primary focus, we risk creating memories of the recording rather than of the event itself. So sometimes, purely enjoying the moment of your life with your friends and just appreciating the moment for what it is can bring us the most basic but fulfilling type of joy. 

The Changing Role of Photographs

The previous arguments may sound like something your grandparents would tell you. Yet, as GenZ-ers, we are witnessing the role of photographs subtly evolving. From being just a record of events to something more. 

Take the newest Gen Z trend, Setlog, for example, where friends upload a short clip of their lives every hour. Although simple, this practice allows friends to see fragments of one another’s lives that would otherwise go unnoticed. In doing so, it lends meaning to ordinary routines and makes seemingly mundane experiences feel worth remembering.  

It is interesting to note that taking photos, whether it be of people, places or objects, can also boost enjoyment by actively forcing us to observe details, thereby deepening engagement and immersion. 

Following the rise of social media and such trends, this generation has taken to documenting not just milestones and celebrations, but also everything in between. In a world where nearly every experience can be recorded, posted and revisited, the line between living a moment and documenting is becoming increasingly blurred. 

Such platforms also do not automatically save clips taken every day; users must make a deliberate effort to do so. This could be seen as evidence of a declining tendency to treat photographs and recordings as keepsakes. This idea can be oddly comforting given the everlooming fear of leaving permanent digital footprints. Yet, I found this transient approach to photography somewhat unfortunate, given the traditional role of photographs as a means of reliving the moment.

At the same time, photographs have taken on an entirely new function: communication.

According to the adage, “a picture is worth a thousand words”. Our generation has taken this quite literally. Instead of using text messages, communication via visual rhetoric gained popularity, following the rise of a less recent social media platform, Snapchat. 

It is, unsurprisingly, a more immediate and expressive reflection of one’s state at that time rather than through less versatile means like words or emojis. In this sense, taking a photo is no longer merely about preserving a moment. It has become part of participating in it.

With photographs increasingly being woven into everyday interaction, does this then turn not only select moments in your life, but virtually our entire lives into a performance for others? 

A last ditch attempt at rescuing the ephemeral magic of a shared live experience

Regardless of what has been said, people who value taking pictures more will continue taking pictures, and people chronically not on social media will continue to stay away from this complex world of digital communication. 

However, my hope is that when you step into your next concert or outing, this article helps to quiet that bugging feeling that you must take a picture as evidence of your event, or that feeling of FOMO if you aren’t, because both are valuable in their own way. 

If the moment is so phenomenal that you feel that you have to take a picture, by all means. But I hope you will remember that, even if not captured on film, true connections last. While capturing the memory, do also remember to take some time to immerse yourself in the moment, because there is a fleeting, ephemeral magic of just being in the moment, and simply enjoying your life with the people around you.