Digital reflections

Do the pictures we take reflect our life?

?? Suggested music pairing with this post: Overflow (Emmit Fenn), Test the Waters (Autograf), Touch (Big Wild)

?? Drink pairing – if before wine o’clock: a warm drink you like (green tea in huge quantities for me). Then, a glass of good wine (for example, this Condrieu from a friend-owned winery close to Lyon).

74% of photos taken on mobile phones are never looked at again, a study showed in 2019. Yet, we keep taking an astronomical quantity of pictures: 1.4 trillion (or 185 per human) was the projection for 2020 only. I confess I heavily contribute to this unnecessary digital load: although I (infrequently) delete some of my pics, there are still 936 visual evidences of 2020 in my phone – and the year is not totally over yet as I’m writing!!! Imagine if we’d been able to travel ??

What do these pictures say about this very, very weird year? Did they reflect the disruption, sadness and disconnection brought by the virus? I was curious so, for once, I looked at all 936 photos again. They speak a lot about family (birthdays, good times together) and about the remodeling of our apartment (providentially completed, after hard work and high stress, just before the first lockdown – March 17 in France). The four of us got “locked” in a nice home, at least. My closed office space has been even more of a blessing than planned.

In January, I was still travelling and attending conferences (no need to add “in-person” then). Looking at DLD Munich 2020 pictures again sparks off nostalgia for crowds, noise, live-tweeting, post-conference dinners with strangers. Yes, we can attend remote events, absorb knowledge from behind a screen, avoid the airport experience, save travel expenses… but it is not the same. Sending big hugs to my friends in the event industry. In February, I partied over my youngest sister’s (well deserved) medal of the National Order of Merit; celebrated with my daughter her tenth birthday with some sightseeing and a lovely musical in Paris. Early March I flew back from Birmingham UK, unaware this would be my last flight before… who knows – a very long time. We also hosted the last dinner a home for a large group of friends. Then everything closed and the city became eerily silent.

My photo shooting didn’t stop.

It captured exercising in the building staircase (72 steps down, then up, 7 times). Having drinks with friends over Zoom. Going out to the nearby square to enjoy a few minutes of sunshine. Sunbathing inside the apartment, window wide open (much to my teenager’s despair: “Mummy! Please stop!”). Intensely caring for the three aromatic plants in the grower by the kitchen window. Basil was phenomenal this year. Inventing new family rituals, like the Saturday Movie Night. Beautiful sunsets. The flower bouquets we managed to smuggle in (husband is in the plant business) when “non-essential” shops – everything beside groceries – were closed. Suddenly, flowers felt essential. Baking experiments with the kids, but I’m still terrible at pastry. My parents’ celebration of their 52th wedding anniversary, in love as one day one. A hike in the Alps. A meeting at the Army Headquarters. A blissful couple of days at Les Esplanes guest house in Dr?me Proven?ale. A swim in the Atlantic Ocean by the South-West coast of France. The stunningly beautiful landscape of Cathar castles. Sunsets, more sunsets. Family, birthday cakes, presents, hugs, smiles. First fire of the year in the fireplace. A very moving street art exhibition. Decorating the Christmas tree. Memories of my beloved friend Kitty, who chose to leave this world – I exhumed old paper albums to keep a digital trace of her beautiful smile. Candles by the window on the day of the Festival of Lights. Dressing up with garland and baubles for a fun last Zoom call of the year. Cooking foie gras.

Our cameras capture mostly the highs, not the lows of our lives.

We will remember 2020 as the year of Covid, lethal and destructive to the existence of many. And yet life went on. Pictures remind me of events unique to this year but unrelated to Covid: my daughter's face lighting up with sheer joy, going up the Eiffel Tower; turning fifty ?? and receiving the largest bunch of red roses ever ??; rowing on the Sa?ne river with my two kids ??????; discovering the lovely tiny village in Tarn where my grand-mother was born (in the house with the red shutters). To be fair, this discovery is actually Covid-related: without the pandemic we would have spent our holidays abroad instead of France. I’m looking forward to traveling again but it was nice.

Finally, these photos miss some very important elements of the year. Not captured on camera, but well remembered: the pain of my friends who’ve lost their jobs, their gigs; my own stress at facing income instability and the threat of the disease; comforting conversations with Eugenio, Gunda, Jillian, Aude, Fabienne, Fatiha… in the early days of disruption and after; angst about the world drowning in a vortex of division, anger and blame; hellos waved by the window to and by my neighbors across the courtyard; bewilderment at conspiracy theories reaching some of my friends; the delight and excitement at serving new clients (thank you! ????); emotions triggered by music and plays – I can’t wait to return to concerts and theaters. Also, what took most of my evenings this year, a large part of my days too, and that is not captured in any picture is my writing. Already 8 chapters completed (out of 12), and an amazing thinking experience so far. I don’t know if anyone else will find it interesting, but I feel very proud. After carrying this book as a fantasy for many years, unsure I had anything useful to say, I finally got to grips with it. A huge thanks to my writing coach Richard Martin for his patience and skills at improving my style. I suppose you can guess he hasn’t edited this post ??

What do your 2020 pictures say about this year?

I wish you all and your loved ones a very happy, healthy and creative 2021.

This post was originally published on my blog WeNeedSocial.com