We Record the Wrong Things

[MarkBarbieri]

I write a weekly substack. It's generally not photography or Disney related and of little to no interest here, but I wrote a photography/video related article today and thought I'd share it. The topic is that we overemphasize taking beautiful or attention getting pictures and don't put enough focus on capturing the everyday things in our lives.

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We record the wrong things. In fact, serious hobbyist photographers are often worse about this than casual amateurs. I think more people need to step back and ask themselves why they are taking pictures and video, and that will help them make better choices about what to record. The photos you’ll value most later are rarely the ones you think are important today.

I get asked a lot of photography questions. They are usually about what equipment to buy, what settings to use, and even sometimes about how to improve technique. The one thing that nobody ever asks about is “what should I record” and I think it is the one thing that people get wrong the most.

Our instinct tells us to get out our camera for big, important things. We want vacation pictures showing the amazing sights that we are experiencing. We want gorgeous pictures of the beautiful things we see. We want pictures that will capture people’s attention and garner likes and comments on social media.

I get it. I do the same thing. And it’s not a bad thing.

I’ve found that taking pictures of beautiful scenes when we travel actually helps me see more. Many times, a desire to capture beautiful sunrises has motivated me to get my lazy self out of my bed or sleeping bag and hike in the pre-dawn light to a great spot to capture the sunrise. Doing that has helped me see some incredible sunrises, not to mention watching a herd of elk wade across a shallow lake in the morning fog.

When I’m traveling, my photographic desires encourage me to look at the world differently. I notice the light more. I pay attention to the colors. I find myself admiring interesting juxtapositions, shapes, and patterns. Just like learning to cook helps you appreciate food more, learning and practicing photography/videography can help you appreciate the visual world around you.

If I could only keep a small collection of my recordings, none of them would be gorgeous pictures of a mountain reflecting on a lake lit by a rising sun. That collection wouldn’t include photos of seaside Italian villas garnished with bougainvillea. It wouldn’t include the butterfly pictures I love taking or the macro flower shots I find so captivating. But I can easily buy better pictures of those same subjects if I want to. Beauty is a commodity. My experiences are not.

I might save a picture of those elk crossing that lake. I wouldn’t save it because it was a great picture. I would save it because it was a magical moment. My wife and I were standing on the lakeshore. I was fumbling around trying to get everything set up for a sunrise picture when I heard an audible gasp from my wife. I turned to see what she was looking at and saw a large buck standing watch over his harem as they slipped through the mist blanketing the lake. The picture takes me back there.

That’s the key. Pictures and videos are the closest thing that we have to time travel. While we focus on capturing the best pictures, we should be focused on capturing the most meaningful memories.

If you are at all like me, you have far too many pictures of your vacations. I could fill a book with pictures of Disney World, Rocky Mountain National Park, Pacific Grove, and other scenic places that we’ve seen. When they come up on our digital picture frame, they bring back pleasant memories of those trips. But they are not the ones that invoke the strongest emotional reaction.

Surprisingly, the pictures and videos that hit me the most are usually ordinary. The lighting isn’t great. The composition isn’t well thought out. The image quality is nothing special. But the emotional content overcomes all of that. They are pictures of my children when they were young. They are pictures of my wife and I starting on our life journey together. They are pictures of my own childhood. Over time, ordinary life makes for extraordinary memories.

But let me ask you this—would you rather see a picture of you and your spouse posing in front of some lovely but long forgotten waterfall or a picture of the two of you at home on your long forgotten couch in your old apartment? I’d pick the latter. It brings back richer memories. That seems backwards. Big trips are supposed to be memorable, but everyday life is often where the deepest nostalgia lives.

I don’t really care about the pictures of myself as a child standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon. I love the picture of me standing with my bicycle. The Grand Canyon was nice, but that bike gave me a taste of freedom and excitement that I can feel when I see it. Graduating was a big and important event, but I’d rather see a video of me playing tag with my sister than one of me walking across that stage.

As I get older, the ordinary times matter most. I want to relive those lazy Saturday mornings watching cartoons, taking the kids to the park, or playing video games together. There’s no time machine that will let me do that—but photos and videos come surprisingly close.

So if you are looking for photography or videography advice, I can give you a lot of tips on what gear to get, how to optimize your light, and how to better capture your subject. I can help you take pictures that will impress your friends, but I don’t think that’s the advice that will benefit you the most. My advice is to take pictures and video of the ordinary things in your life.

Here are just a few thoughts and ideas:

Get out your phone or video camera and walk around your house. Not after you’ve cleaned it up and made it presentable (and sterile). You may never get that done and it isn’t how you live. Walk around it today. Narrate the video. Tell the viewer what you do in each room. If you are hesitant because you plan on improving your space, talk about your plans in your video.

Record ordinary life. Put the camera on a tripod or shelf and record a game of Sorry or Chutes and Ladders. It seems boring now, but those kid voices will soon be gone forever.

If you don’t want to shoot video, at least take a few candid photos. That picture of everyone stopping to stare at the camera with a forced smile is nice for posting and sharing, but pictures of you and your group actively doing whatever it was that you used to do is even better.

Interview people and have them interview you. Think of someone that you love who is no longer with you? What would you give to watch an interview with them? Don’t get too fussed about the lighting and the topic. Someday, the people that love you will want to just hear your voice talking about what is important to you.

We did a couple of interviews with the kids when they were young, asking about their future goals and dreams. I wish we’d done more. But it isn’t just kids. Interview your parents. Interview yourself. Create an oral legacy.

We focus too much on the pictures that matter right now. Don’t ignore the mundane. Decades from now, we’ll be more interested in the car you drove every day than the Ferrari you saw at Cars and Coffee. Your children will be far more interested in what your family room looked like than they will be in what Yosemite looked like.

That’s my simple message for today. Record ordinary things in your life. It’s a simple message, but that doesn’t make it any less important.

I rarely end these articles with a direct call to action, but today I will. Commit to recording something ordinary today. Record a conversation. Walk through your home with a camera. Capture something now. Time won’t stand still and wait for you to be ready.

 

[OKW Lover]

The argument that “we record the wrong things” rests on a false dichotomy—one that pits meaningful memories against visually striking or “important” subjects, as though the two are mutually exclusive. In reality, photography has never been an either/or practice. It is both an artistic pursuit and a personal archive, and to suggest that people are broadly getting it “wrong” oversimplifies the diverse reasons we pick up a camera in the first place.



First, the claim assumes that we are poor judges of what will matter to us later. While it’s true that some seemingly mundane images gain emotional weight over time, that does not invalidate the instinct to capture extraordinary moments. Major life events, travel experiences, and visually compelling scenes often do retain their significance. A photograph of a mountain at sunrise is not just a “commodity” image—it is a record of presence, effort, and perspective. The fact that similar images exist elsewhere does not diminish the personal meaning attached to one you created yourself. The experience of being there, composing the shot, and witnessing that moment is embedded in the image in a way no purchased photograph can replicate.



Second, the argument undervalues the role of aspiration and creativity in photography. Many photographers—especially serious hobbyists—are not merely documenting life; they are engaging in a craft. They are learning to see light, refine composition, and express a vision. To dismiss their focus on “beautiful” or “impressive” imagery as misguided is to ignore the intrinsic value of artistic growth. Just as a musician practices scales or a painter studies form, a photographer’s pursuit of technically and aesthetically strong images is a meaningful endeavor in its own right, not a distraction from what “really matters.”



Additionally, the idea that ordinary moments are inherently more meaningful is subjective, not universal. For some people, the defining memories of their lives are the extraordinary ones—the once-in-a-lifetime trips, the awe-inspiring landscapes, the rare encounters. These experiences can shape identity, broaden perspective, and create lasting emotional impact. Suggesting that a photo of a couch will inevitably outweigh a photo of the Grand Canyon imposes a personal value system onto a deeply individual process.



There is also a practical flaw in the argument: we cannot reliably predict which moments will resonate most in the future. The solution, then, is not to shift entirely toward the mundane, but to embrace a broader approach. Photograph the everyday and the exceptional. Capture the quiet moments at home, but don’t neglect the sweeping vistas and milestone events. Memory is complex, and its emotional triggers are varied; limiting what we record based on a philosophy risks losing moments that might later prove meaningful.



Finally, the rise of digital photography has removed the constraints that once forced careful selection. We are no longer limited by film rolls or development costs. This abundance allows for a more inclusive approach to documentation—one that accommodates both the ordinary and the extraordinary without sacrifice.



In the end, photography is not about choosing the “right” things to record, but about recording what resonates in the moment. Meaning is not fixed at the time of capture, nor is it dictated by subject matter alone. It evolves. Rather than prescribing a shift in focus, we should encourage intentionality across all types of images—recognizing that beauty, significance, and memory often coexist in ways we cannot fully anticipate.

 

[Pea-n-Me]

I think both approaches are great for consideration as a photographer.

I remember this advice being giving here many years ago - and it was probably from you, Mark; I’ve embraced it ever since - that as a Disney photographer, to not so much capture the classic Disney icons over and over, but concentrate on recording family and friends enjoying time in the parks and resorts. I like to participate in these photo threads but oftentimes I have to really search for a photo that doesn’t have someone in it.

The other day my son was visiting and I went to take a picture of him and his twin sister enjoying breakfast, and he jokingly put his hood over his head and said, “Not another picture!” He’s a busy, exhausted guy these days with a family, pets, a draining job and in school again training for a tough career. It’s rare he has a day off. I realized last year when I was making my Christmas card I didn’t have many pictures of just the two them together anymore and said to myself I need to make a point of getting more this year. (We see how that’s gonna go.) I am very glad I have so many of them growing up and on trips, etc., because you’re right, as everyone gets older, pictures become fewer, and many from our inner circles are no longer with us.

I think spontaneity comes into play quite a bit when you have the right light or beautiful colors or shapes, and it’s a natural instinct for us to want to capture that, whether is’s people, places or things. That’s a big part of the fun of photography. It doesn’t hurt to keep in mind that there’s a lot at home, in our everyday lives, that we shouldn’t overlook. Photographing the display car is a great example. I was recently telling a friend about an old rust bucket I used to drive when I was in college. The only reason I had a picture of it was because an old friend had sent one to me recently, with me standing in front of it. (I was embarrassed about it and really didn’t care to take pictures of it, lol.) You’re right, seeing some of the cars I’ve bought since then, when I first got them, does recall that flood of joyful emotions. I suppose that’s the case for many things that people photograph, though, too, as it is so individual.

Good discussion. And always nice to “see” you!