I always thought if I photographed anyone or anything enough, I would never lose the person, I would never lose the memory, I would never lose the place. But the pictures show me how much I've lost.— Nan Goldin
Simplistic Photographic Memory quotations
Some days I wish I could go back in life. Not to change anything, but to feel a few things twice.
The charm, one might say the genius, of memory is that it is choosy, chancy and temperamental; it rejects the edifying cathedral and indelibly photographs the small boy outside, chewing a hunk of melon in the dust.
What i like about photographs is that they capture a moment that’s gone forever, impossible to reproduce.
Remember how far you've come, not just how far you have to go. You are not where you want to be, but neither are you where you used to be.
If at first you don't succeed, destroy all evidence that you tried.
To me photography can be simultaneously both a record and a mirror or window of self-expression the camera is generally assumed to be unable to depict that which is not visible to the eye and yet, the photographer who wields it well can depict what lies unseen in his memory.
Photography is like a found object. A photographer never makes an actual subject; they just steal the image from the world... Photography is a system of saving memories. It's a time machine, in a way, to preserve the memory, to preserve time.
Enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things.
I have a photographic memory; I just haven't developed it yet.
A photograph it a souvenir of a memory.
It is not a moment. It is the looking at the photograph that becomes the moment. Your own moment.
Like an old photograph, time can make a feeling fade, but the memory of a first love never fades away.
Live the way you want to be remembered.
Everyone has a photographic Memory, some just don't have film.
The sense of smell can be extraordinarily evocative, bringing back pictures as sharp as photographs of scenes that had left the conscious mind.
One has the impression that something is stirring inside [photographs] - it is as if one can hear little cries of despair, gémissements de désespoir... as if the photographs themselves had a memory and were remembering us and how we, the surviving, and those who preceded us, once were.
The axe forgets what the tree remembers.
Parks and gardens are the quintessential intimate landscapes.
People use them all the time, leaving their energy and memories behind. It's what's left behind that I like to photograph.
In my photographic work I was always especially entranced.
.. by the moment when the shadows of reality, so to speak, emerge out of nothing on the exposed paper, as memories do in the middle of the night, darkening again if you try to cling to them.
Poems come from ordinary experiences and objects, I think.
Out of memory - a dress I lent my daughter on her way back to college; a newspaper photograph of war; a breast self-exam; the tooth fairy; Calvinist parents who beat up their children; a gesture of love; seeing oneself naked over age 50 in a set of bright hotel bathroom mirrors.
Never regret a day in your life: good days give happiness, bad days give experience, worst days give lessons, and best days give memories.
Memories have no life. They're just pale reminders of a time that's gone-like faded photographs.
Visiting the Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, D.
C., for example, I was struck by its marginalization of any other victims apart from the Jews, to the extent that it presented photographs of dead bodies in camps such as Buchenwald or Dauchau as dead Jewish bodies, when in fact relatively few Jewish prisoners were held there.
The most valuable things in a life are a man's memories. And they are priceless.
Spend time with those you love. One of these days you will say either: "I wish I had" or "I'm glad I did".
We do not know the true value of our moments until they have undergone the test of memory. Like the images the photographer plunges into a golden bath, our sentiments take on color; and only then, after that recoil and that trans-figuration, do we understand their real meaning and enjoy them in all their tranquil splendor.
I hadn't performed or been in the public eye for about 16 years.
When my husband passed away, I was obliged to go back to work to take care of our kids. I also wanted to do a record in memory of him. So we did Gone Again. During that process, I had to be photographed and had to go back to doing articles and interviews.
A paradox: the same century invented history and photography.
But history is a memory fabricated according to positive formulas, a pure intellectual discourse which abolishes mythic time; and the photograph is a certain but fugitive testimony.
You can't rush something you want to last forever.
I always loved the idea that a photograph was a memory frozen in time.
We must avoid however, snapping away, shooting quickly and without thought, overloading ourselves with unnecessary images that clutter our memory and diminish the clarity of the whole.
I would love to have a photographic memory.
It would come in handy with the rants I'm given on Scrubs... often on short notice!
People don't realize that now is all there ever is; There is no past or future except as memory or anticipation in your mind.
We photographers deal in things which are continually vanishing, and when they have vanished there is no contrivance on earth can make them come back again. We cannot develop and print a memory.
I don't think I think when I play. I have a photographic memory for chords, and when I'm playing, the right chords appear in my mind like photographs long before I get to them.
How does photography serve to legitimate and normalize existing power relationships? ... How is historical and social memory preserved, transformed, restricted and obliterated by photographs?
Never forget that everything Hitler did in Germany was legal.
Though infested with many bewildering anomalies, photographs are considered our best arbiters between our visual perceptions and the memory of them. It is not only their apparent 'objectivity' that grants photographs their high status in this regard, but our belief that in them, fugitive sensation has been laid to rest.
I see the whole episode in my memory as if it were a very crisply photographed black and white movie. Directed by Bergman perhaps.We are playing ourselves in the movie version. If only we could escape from always having to play ourselves !
The charm, one might say the genius of memory, is that it is choosy, chancy, and temperamental: it rejects the edifying cathedral and indelibly photographs the small boy outside, chewing a hunk of melon in the dust.
Examine the past, but don't live in it.
Our memory is like a shop in the window of which is exposed now one, now another photograph of the same person. And as a rule the most recent exhibit remains for some time the only one to be seen.
It is a cruel, ironical art, photography.
The dragging of captured moments into the future; moments that should have been allowed to be evaporate into the past; should exist only in memories, glimpsed through the fog of events that came after. Photographs force us to see people before their future weighed them down....
Much like photographs, I also love the idea that ghosts are memories frozen in time. We can be haunted by both just as horrifically. One really becomes a metaphor for the other.
I enjoy places that have mystery and atmosphere, perhaps a patina of age, a suggestion rather than a description, a question or two. I look for memories, traces, evidence of the human interaction with the landscape. Sometimes I photograph pure nature, sometimes urban structures.
In memory, you can access something from the past, anything that you've experienced that you remember - it's there. Now, you might have a memento of it in a photograph or in a film or a building or some clothes that you wore. There might be something that connects you to this memory. But all of us are just all caught in this time, whatever that is.