Want to take pictures that will make people gasp? Photographer David Yarrow shares his advice on how to avoid the played-out and zoom in on the unexpected.

Over his 30-plus years in photography, David Yarrow : Wild Encounters--the story of what I do differently) has waded through the crocodile-infested Nile, taken a selfie reflected in the eyes of a polar bear and watched countless cameras get gnawed on by lions -- all in the quest for a wildlife image like you’ve never seen before. “My goal is to take four good pictures a year,” the London-based Yarrow says. “I want to take pictures that stop people in their tracks.” Below, he discusses how he captured some of his favorite images, with suggestions that all photographers can use.



Battle boring.
Yarrow jokes, “If you ever get a sunburn on the back of your neck, you’re not a very good photographer.” That’s because he defies what so many of us have been told -- and frequently photographs into the light. He took this shot with a remote-controlled camera and a wide-angle lens at Kenya’s Amboseli National Park, one of his favorite places to work for its dusty expanses and cinematic skies. “The big bull had to block the late afternoon sun -- otherwise there would be no picture -- and he kindly did that, which allowed the lighting to be energetic and dramatic,” he says. While Yarrow plays fast and loose with his techniques, there is one rule that he always stands by, regardless of the subject or the setting: “Be tough on what is boring. Most things in life are boring.”


Focus on the essence of your subject.

When Yarrow is planning to photograph a particular animal, he and his team will often sit down and list all the words they associate with that creature. This exercise “prompts me into thinking about how to take its portrait in a way that does it justice,” he says. For the bison, he wanted to capture its “fortitude and resilience” -- which also meant the portrait needed to be taken during winter at America’s Yellowstone National Park, when life is most challenging for bison. While many photographs of bison showcase their massive, powerful bodies, Yarrow feels their shaggy, stoic faces are the more striking feature. “I sensed that any picture that didn’t recognize this would miss my goals.”



Leave it to viewers to fill in the blanks. 

Yarrow typically photographs wildlife in black and white. “We live our lives in color, so a departure from reality is refreshing,” he says. He likes creating pictures that demand more from his audience, like this untraditional polar bear image. “It’s made complete by its lack of completeness -- the storytelling is started by the camera and finished by the viewer.”



Think about what you’ve already seen, and veer away.

Before Yarrow shoots a subject -- animal or human -- he always does research to see the work of other photographers and to figure out a new angle. With swans -- an animal that is, he says, “an inadvertent accomplice to lazy postcard photography” -- he knew he wanted to see as much white as possible, inspired both by the bird’s pristine ivory feathers and by visions of the 1965 film Dr. Zhivago. He eventually decided the snowy landscape of Hokkaido, Japan’s northernmost island, would offer the perfect backdrop. “My approach was to create a dream, not necessarily report on reality,” he says. “The greater the cocktail of whites, the greater the possibility of an image that could be ethereal as well as evocative.”

Find a way to establish scale.

There’s no shortage of dramatic photos of the American bald eagle. For Yarrow, the trick to photographing overexposed subjects is to find “fresh detail.” However, he had difficulty taking a picture that met his standards. For example, because we've all seen many photos of eagles in flight with their wings lifted horizontally, he didn't want anything that looked like that. He also wanted to emphasize the impressive length -- up to seven feet -- of their wings. “In flight, there is a disconnect to anything that gives real scale,” he says. Having only the sky as backdrop “doesn’t help; it excludes much of what could help define and give it context.” After getting soaking wet from the surf on the beach of Homer, Alaska, he finally achieved a unique take -- not only are the wings in an unusual vertical position, but the wings’ opposition to the bird’s body and legs provide the contrast he desired.



Lose the telephoto.

Many wildlife photographers rely on telephoto lenses to avoid disturbing their subjects and to protect their safety. Not Yarrow. “The relationship between photographer and subject diminishes, the longer the telephoto,” he says. With dangerous animals, he prefers to either photograph them from inside a sturdy cage or use a remote-controlled camera, and he’s become known for the latter technique. Knowing where to place a remote camera and when to press the trigger requires “a considerable amount of behavioral research and predictive analysis,” he says. To capture this grizzly bear in Alaska, he placed a wide-angle lens along its fishing path and snapped the image when the bear was two feet away. “I’ve spent many days working close to grizzlies, and this is surely my most visually arresting photograph,” Yarrow says. “You can see every detail in that bear, and that’s why it’s a strong picture.”



Know when to break the rules. To achieve this shot in Kenya’s Amboseli National Park, Yarrow followed two of his go-to approaches: he chose a wide-angle lens over a telephoto, and he shot as low to the ground as possible (he dangled out of a moving jeep) -- as well as shooting into the light. However, he knows when to improvise. Although he usually tries to position himself in front of or parallel to the animal, he decided this rule could get a pass so he could capture the drama of the dust being kicked up. “We are in the wild, not a studio, and it’s often better to just go with the flow and think spontaneously,” he says.




Create images that invite second -- and third and fourth -- looks.
Yarrow aims for images that compel viewers to keep coming back and notice something new. This image, which he titled “Mankind,” was taken at a Dinka cattle camp in South Sudan. After studying the photographs that had already been taken in the area, Yarrow decided he wanted his image to capture the depth and scope of a camp scene. To do that, he decided to take his photo from above (he brought a ladder to stand on). As a result, he could silhouette the crowd of livestock and people against the smoke used by the tribe to fend off mosquitoes. The resulting photo is equal parts vibrant and otherworldly, exactly the effect that Yarrow was hoping to achieve. “Mankind is heavenly on one glance and Dante’s Hell on the other,” he says.

The self-taught Scottish lensman -- who has a degree in economics -- began his photography career covering sports, and even now, Yarrow doesn’t restrict his photography to wildlife. He is fascinated in how people live around the world, and he’s traveled to Nigeria, Namibia, Bangladesh and more to photograph indigenous communities. (Many of his images of animals and people have been collected in the 2016 book Wild Encounters: Iconic Photographs of the World’s Vanishing Animals and Cultures.) Most recently, he went to North Korea to capture the residents of that secretive nation. Yarrow also works closely with wildlife conservation organizations WildArk and The Tusk Trust as a photographer, ambassador and philanthropist.

All images courtesy of David Yarrow.

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Talents you've Got which you don't know about.

When most Africans living in Africa hear or read the word talent the first thing that goes into their mind is music. Music has become one talent that so many people have been rushing into, and even those who are not talented musically have found themselves trying to break into the music industry because of its profitability. But apart from music, comedy, dance etcetera, there are some other talents that are even more profitable that God has deposited in so many people that are lying idle. One difficult hurdle that I have always encountered when coaching people in my talent maximization coaching program has been trying to convince most of my clients to leave music or comedy for the moment and focus on some other idle talents that needs attention.

These four talents can be taken as a full blown career, used to grow your business as an entrepreneur and can also be used to increase your productivity as an employee. You probably may have heard about them, or know about them, but I strongly believe that there are so many people who need to read it. So, please, show love by helping to take this to the four corners of the earth.

• Eyes For Errors 

There are people who are very talented with this but don't know that it can be made Profitable. This set of people can spot an error from afar. They can also be called perfectionist. No matter how good you claim to be, a perfectionist can spot an error in your work unless it has already gone through the table of a perfectionist.
Being a perfectionist is not as a result of your experience or skills, it's a talent. While discussing with a friend sometime ago, I jokingly told her that the easiest way to know a scam email is to check the spellings and grammars, because most Internet scammers are high school dropouts. Big organisations have Perfectionists who go through their works before taking them public. Perfectionists are of different types and works in different areas. Haven't you wondered why some foreign products looks perfect?
So, when next you see a product that looks excellent, please know that it has gone through the table of a Perfectionist.

•  Manager 

When I hear people say that women are naturally managers, I laugh because not every woman has this talent. Some people are talented managers while some are talented wasters. People who are talented managers can use what Is available to sustain for a period of time. When others are complaining that what they have won't be enough, managers don't. Few managers are maximizers but not all. Companies, especially startups with limited funds are always in search for employees with this talent or skill (if you learnt it). Even most men and women desire this talent in their spouses.
Managers naturally knows how to manage their resources, time, team etc. A manager is not a waster. Management isn't just about finance, but also people. Most people with this talent are always seen as stingy, but they are not. A man who's a waster needs a manager as a wife otherwise, he may end up working for thirty-five years with nothing to show for his labours. With this talent, you can become a lender to people who earn more than you.

• Strategist 

Has anyone ever approached you for a way to get out of a problem they found themselves? and you just find yourself helping them out without knowing how you came about the solutions? That's a sign that you are a natural Strategist. If well maximized, this talent can give you financial freedom, influence, connection and can ultimately make you a highly sought after Consultant. I used to have a friend back then in the University who was referred to as a go-to for relationship issues while another friend was the one you go to when you need a lie to tell your parents in order to collect money from them. These aforementioned people were Strategists and were always needed. The truth is, not every knowledge was learnt, some came naturally.

• Critics

Critics and perfectionist are somehow interrelated but, a critic criticisms without having a concrete solution to the problem. People with this talent naturally criticizes even if they don't want to. It is a natural something. Every product needs critics. Critics may not spot errors, they can even criticize a perfect plan. Sometimes, as humans, we are bound to see things from one particular angle, but what criticism does is to show us life from a different perspective. Some critics criticizes out of hatred but talented critics criticizes because they can't live without criticism.

Succeed You Must!

(c) Johnspeak Uwangue 

Motivational Speaker

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So many of us long to be part of something real. But we’ll need to risk discomfort and criticism and show the world our real selves first

Our True belonging.

I don’t know exactly what it is about the combination of those two words, but I do know that when I say it aloud, it just feels right. It feels like something that we all crave and need in our lives. We want to be a part of something, but we need it to be real -- not conditional or fake or constantly up for negotiation. We need true belonging, but what exactly is it?

“Belonging is the innate human desire to be part of something larger than us. Because this yearning is so primal, we often try to acquire it by fitting in and by seeking approval, which are not only hollow substitutes for belonging, but often barriers to it. Because true belonging only happens when we present our authentic, imperfect selves to the world, our sense of belonging can never be greater than our level of self-acceptance.”

This definition has withstood the test of time as well as the emergence of new data, but it is incomplete. There’s much more to true belonging. Being ourselves means sometimes having to find the courage to stand alone, totally alone. It’s not something we achieve or accomplish with others; it’s something we carry in our heart. Once we belong thoroughly to ourselves and believe thoroughly in ourselves, true belonging is ours.

No matter how separated we are by what we think and believe, 

we are part of the same spiritual story.

Belonging to ourselves means being called to stand alone -- to brave the wilderness of uncertainty, vulnerability and criticism. And with the world feeling like a political and ideological combat zone, this is remarkably tough. We seem to have forgotten that even when we’re utterly alone, we’re connected to one another by something greater than group membership, politics and ideology -- we’re connected by love and the human spirit. No matter how separated we are by what we think and believe, we are part of the same spiritual story.

The special courage it takes to experience true belonging is not just about braving the wilderness, it’s about becoming the wilderness. It’s about breaking down the walls, abandoning our ideological bunkers and living from our wild heart rather than our weary hurt. We’re going to need to intentionally be with people who are different from us. We’re going to have to sign up, join and take a seat at the table. We’re going to have to learn how to listen, have hard conversations, look for joy, share pain and be more curious than defensive, all while seeking moments of togetherness.

True belonging is not passive. It’s not the belonging that comes with just joining a group. It’s not fitting in or pretending or selling out because it’s safer. It’s a practice that requires us to be vulnerable, get uncomfortable and learn how to be present with people -- without sacrificing who we are. We want true belonging, but it takes tremendous courage to knowingly walk into hard moments.

True belonging is not something you negotiate externally, it’s what you carry in your heart. It’s finding the sacredness in being a part of something.

You don’t wander into the wilderness unprepared. Standing alone in a hypercritical environment or standing together in the midst of difference requires one tool above all others: trust. To brave the wilderness and become the wilderness, we must learn how to trust ourselves and trust others.

As I often say, I’m an experienced mapmaker, but I can be as much of a lost and stumbling traveler as anyone else. We all must find our own way through. This means that, while we may share the same research map, your path will be different from mine. Joseph Campbell wrote, “If you can see your path laid out in front of you step by step, you know it’s not your path. Your own path you make with every step you take. That’s why it’s your path.”

We’ll need to learn how to navigate the tension of many paradoxes along the way, including the importance of being with and being alone. In many ways, the etymology of the word “paradox” cuts right to the heart of what it means to break out of our ideological bunkers, stand on our own and brave the wilderness. In its Greek origins, paradox is the joining of two words, para (contrary to) and dokein (opinion). The Latin paradoxum means “seemingly absurd but really true.”

True belonging is not something you negotiate externally, it’s what you carry in your heart. It’s finding the sacredness in being a part of something. When we reach this place, even momentarily, we belong everywhere and nowhere. That seems absurd, but it’s true. Carl Jung argued that a paradox is one of our most valued spiritual possessions and a great witness to the truth. It makes sense to me that we’re called to combat this spiritual crisis of disconnection with one of our most valued spiritual possessions. Bearing witness to the truth is rarely easy, especially when we’re alone in the wilderness.

But as Maya Angelou tells us, “The price is high. The reward is great.”

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Researchers recently reported that they were able to edit human embryos to fix a dangerous mutation

The technology is inching closer to reality, so we need to take a stand, says biochemists

If CRISPR can help parents conceive a disease-free child when no other options exist and it can do so safely, ought we to use it? It’s a question I’ve asked myself again and again -- and one that is particularly timely due to the Nature study published this month that described how scientists at Oregon Health and Science University, working with collaborators in California, China and South Korea, were able to correct human embryos of a common and harmful genetic mutation.

Unsurprisingly, Americans are having a hard time agreeing on an answer: a 2016 Pew Research poll found that 50 percent of adults in the US oppose the idea of reducing the risk of disease using germline editing, compared to 48 percent in favor. (When it comes to making nonessential enhancements to a baby’s genome, we seem to be considerably more unified; only 15 percent of the poll’s respondents were in favor.)

Religion is one obvious moral compass that people use to confront difficult questions like this, though perspectives can vary widely. When it comes to experimentation with human embryos, some Christian communities are opposed because they regard the embryo as a person from conception, whereas Jewish and Muslim traditions tend to be more accepting because they do not consider embryos created in vitro to be people. And while some religions see any interventions in the germline as a usurpation of God’s role in humanity, others welcome human involvement in nature as long as the goals pursued are inherently good.

Humans have been reproducing for millennia aided only by the DNA mutations that arise naturally, and for us to begin directing that process ​seems almost perverse.

Yet another moral guidepost is purely internal: the visceral, knee-jerk reaction to the idea of using CRISPR to permanently edit a future child’s genes. For many people, the very idea feels unnatural and wrong, and I was one of those people when I first started thinking about the issue. Humans have been reproducing for millennia aided only by the DNA mutations that arise naturally, and for us to begin directing the process ​-- ​similar to the way that plant biologists might genetically modify corn ​-- ​seems almost perverse at first glance. As National Institutes of Health director Francis Collins put it, “Evolution has been working toward optimizing the human genome for 3.85 billion years. Do we really think that some small group of human genome tinkerers could do better without all sorts of unintended consequences?”

While I share the general feeling of unease at the idea of humans taking control of their evolution, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that nature has fine-tuned our genetic composition. Obviously, evolution didn’t optimize the human genome for the present era, when modern foods, computers and high-speed transportation have completely transformed the way we live. And if we look over our shoulders at the course of evolution that has led to this moment, we’ll see it’s littered with organisms that didn’t benefit from the mutational chaos that underpins evolution. Nature is less an engineer than a tinkerer -- and a fairly sloppy one at that. Its carelessness can seem like outright cruelty for those people who have inherited genetic mutations that turned out to be suboptimal.

Similarly, the argument that germline editing is unnatural doesn’t carry much weight with me anymore. When it comes to human affairs and especially the world of medicine, the line between natural and unnatural blurs to the point of disappearing. We wouldn’t call a coral reef unnatural, but we might use the term for a megalopolis like Tokyo. Is this because one is crafted by humans and the other isn’t? In my mind, the distinction between natural and unnatural is a false dichotomy, and if it prevents us from alleviating human suffering, it’s also a dangerous one.

One woman told me: “If I could use germline editing to remove this mutation from the human population so that no one else suffers as my sister did, I would do it in a heartbeat!”

I’ve had numerous opportunities to meet with people who have experienced genetic disease themselves or in their families, and their stories are deeply moving. One woman pulled me aside at a conference to share her personal story after a session in which I had discussed CRISPR technology. Her sister had suffered from a rare but devastating genetic disease that affected her physical and mental health and caused tremendous hardship for the entire family. “If I could use germline editing to remove this mutation from the human population so that no one else suffers as my sister did, I would do it in a heartbeat!” she said, tears welling up in her eyes.

On another occasion, a man came to visit me and explained that his father and grandfather had died of Huntington’s disease and that three of his sisters had tested positive for the trait. He wanted to do anything he could to advance research toward a cure or, better yet, prevention of this terrible disease. I did not have the heart to ask him if he carried the mutated gene. If he did, he could expect to be robbed of his powers of movement and speech before much longer and to meet an early death ​-- ​a terrible sentence for anyone to see placed on their loved ones, let alone be subjected to themselves. Stories like these underscore the terrible human costs of genetic diseases. If we have tools that can one day help doctors safely and effectively correct mutations, whether prior to or just after conception, it seems to me that we’d be justified in using them.

It’s not a stretch to think that wealthy families would benefit from germline editing more than others, at least in the beginning.

Setting aside the inherent rightness or wrongness of editing the germline, another ethical issue continues to nag at me: how would CRISPR affect society? Just as it’s hard to know where we’d draw the line when it comes to editing embryos, it’s difficult to see how we’d do it equitably ​-- ​that is, in a way that improves human health across the board, not just in certain groups. It’s not a stretch to think that wealthy families would benefit from germline editing more than others, at least in the beginning. Recent gene therapies have hit the market with a price tag of around a million dollars, and it’s likely the first gene-editing therapies will be no different.

Of course, new technologies shouldn’t be rejected simply because they’re expensive. You need look no further than personal computers, cell phones, and direct-to-consumer DNA sequencing to see how costs of new technologies generally diminish over time as improvements are made, leading to a resulting increase in access. Furthermore, there’s also the chance that germline editing, like other medical treatments, could one day be subsidized by health insurance.

This might certainly seem like only a remote possibility in the US, since existing reproductive procedures such as IVF and PGD, which routinely cost tens of thousands of dollars, are seldom covered by insurance. But in France, Israel, Sweden and other countries whose national health plans cover assisted reproduction, it’s possible that simple economics will incentivize governments to make gene editing available to patients who need it. After all, providing lifelong treatment to a single person with a genetic disease could be much more expensive than intervention in the embryo using gene editing.

But even in countries with comprehensive health-care systems where people from all classes could benefit from germline editing, there’s a risk that it might give rise to genetic inequalities, creating a new “gene gap” that would only widen over time. Since the wealthy would be able to afford the procedure more often and since any beneficial genetic modifications made to an embryo would be transmitted to that person’s offspring, linkages between class and genetics would ineluctably grow from one generation to the next, no matter how small the disparity in access might be.

Consider the effect this could have on the socioeconomic fabric of society -- if you think our world is unequal now, just imagine it stratified along socioeconomic and genetic lines. Envision a future where people with more money live healthier and longer lives, thanks to their privileged sets of genes. It’s the stuff of science fiction, but if germline editing becomes routine, this fiction could become reality.

Using gene editing to “fix” things like deafness or obesity could create a less inclusive society, one that pressures everyone to be the same.  ​

Germline editing may also create a different kind of injustice. As disability-rights advocates have pointed out, using gene editing to “fix” things like deafness or obesity could create a less inclusive society, one that pressures everyone to be the same ​— ​and perhaps even encourages more discrimination against differently abled people ​-- ​instead of celebrating our natural differences. After all, the human genome is not mere software with bugs that we should categorically eliminate. Part of what makes our species unique and our society so strong is its diversity. While some disease-causing gene mutations produce defective or abnormal proteins on a biochemical level, the individuals who live with the disease are certainly not defective or abnormal people, and they might live happy lives and not feel any need for gene repair.

This fear ​-- ​that gene editing will exacerbate existing prejudices against people who fall outside a narrow range of genetic norms ​-- ​underlies the association that numerous writers have made between germ­line editing and eugenics. That concept is best known today for its popularity in Nazi Germany, where a quest to perfect the human race reached its terrible zenith through the forced sterilization of hundreds of thousands of people and the widespread extermination of millions of Jews, homosexuals, the mentally ill and others deemed unworthy of life.

Eugenics as practiced by the Nazis was utterly reprehensible, but I believe the odds are minuscule we’ll see anything similar happen with gene editing. Governments are simply not going to begin forcing parents to edit their children’s genes. (In fact, the procedure is still illegal in many places.) Unless we’re talking about coercive regimes controlling their citizens’ procreative liberty, germline editing would remain a private decision for individual parents to make for their own children, not a decision for bureaucrats to make for the population at large.

My views on the ethics of germline editing continue to evolve, ​but as they do, I find myself returning time and again to the issue of choice. Above all else, we must respect people’s freedom to choose their own genetic destiny and strive for healthier, happier lives. If people are given this freedom, they will do with it what they personally think is right, ​whatever that may be. As Charles Sabine, a victim of Huntington’s disease, put it, “Anyone who has to actually face the reality of one of these diseases is not going to have a remote compunction about thinking that there is any moral issue at all.” Who are we to tell him otherwise?

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Our images and Memory

People worldwide upload more than one billlion images a day, preserving their memories to enjoy them in the future

When it comes to obsessional tech habits, photo-taking probably isn’t the worst for relationships. If you’re not gazing into someone’s eyes, at least you’re pointing an iPhone at them. But how does that persistent need to capture the moment -- which so many of us feel -- change how we actually experience the moment, both in the present and when we try to recall it down the line? The answer is quite illuminating.

One of the major reasons we take photos in the first place is to remember a moment long after it has passed: the birth of a baby, a reunion, a pristine lake. In 2015, I conducted a Bored and Brilliant Project -- in which I challenged people to detach from their devices in order to jump-start their creativity -- with more than 20,000 listeners of Note to Self (the podcast about technology that I host). When I surveyed the participants, many said they used photos as a “memory aid,” taking pictures of things like parking spots or the label of the hot sauce at a restaurant to buy later. However, every time we snap a quick pic of something, we could in fact be harming our memory of it.


In one study, students were told to take photos of objects at a museum -- and they remembered fewer of the overall objects they had photographed.

Linda Henkel, a professor of psychology at Fairfield University in Connecticut, studied how taking photos impacts experience and memory by crafting an experiment using a group of undergraduates on a guided tour of the university’s Bellarmine Museum of Art. The students were asked to take photos of objects that they looked at on the tour and to simply observe others.

The next day, she brought the students into her research lab to test their memory of all the objects they had seen on the tour. Whenever they remembered a piece of work, she asked follow-up questions about specific visual details. The results were clear: overall, people remembered fewer of the objects they had photographed. They also couldn’t recall as many specific visual details of the photographed art, compared to the art they had merely observed.

“When you take a photo of something, you’re counting on the camera to remember for you,” Henkel said. “You’re basically saying, ‘Okay, I don’t need to think about this any further. The camera’s captured the experience.’ You don’t engage in any of the elaborative or emotional kinds of processing that really would help you remember those experiences, because you’ve outsourced it to your camera.”

In other words, if your camera captures the moment, then your brain doesn’t. Henkel came up with a frightening term for this phenomenon: the “photo-taking-impairment effect.” Okay, okay. Of course you’d remember things better if you were completely in the present, hyperaware of every detail, like some supreme Zen master. But isn’t that what photos are for? To refresh our fallible memories?

Who hasn’t dumped photos from a trip into Dropbox and promised to make an album -- only to never look at them again?

Henkel doesn’t disagree that the purpose of outsourcing our memory to devices can free up our brains to do other cognitive processing. The problem is, she says, “We’re constantly going from one thing to the next to the next.” So instead of outsourcing so we can focus our attention on more important tasks, “we have this constant stream of what’s next, what’s next, what’s next and never fully embrace any of the experiences we’re having.”

Nonetheless, Henkel and her student Katelyn Parisi ran another study to see what happens to memory when people have photos to remind them of a moment or object. Although, in the real world, Henkel rightly observes, “We’re so busy capturing photos that afterwards we don’t actually look at them.” Who hasn’t dumped a bunch of photos of a graduation or trip into Dropbox and promised to make an album only to never look at them again?

This time when people took a tour of the museum, they were asked to take two kinds of photos: those of the objects in the exhibit alone and those with them standing next to the objects. Afterward, Henkel had the subjects look at all the photos and interviewed them on their memories of what they saw. “It turns out that it actually changes your perspective on the experience, whether you’re in a photo of it or not,” Henkel said. If you are in the image, you become more removed from the original moment -- it is as if you are an observer watching yourself doing something outside yourself. Whereas if you are not in the image, you return to the first person, reliving the experience through your own eyes, and you remember more.


Professor Linda Henkel is sure: cameras, as amazing as they are, can’t compare to what the brain is capable of with input from the eyes and the ears.

How taking photos affects our understanding of ourselves and of the things we are photographing is still a big question mark. But as a result of her experiments, there is one thing Henkel is sure of. “Cameras, as amazing as they are, can’t compare to what the brain is capable of with input from the eyes and the ears,” she said. “Cameras are a lesser version of the human information-processing system.”

Even if you can’t bear to face a computer hard drive that’s nightmarishly filled with photos, there was one way in which taking pictures did not erode people’s memories in Henkel’s experiments. In the art museum study, “when participants zoomed in to photograph a specific part of the object, their subsequent recognition and detail memory were not impaired, and, in fact, memory for features that were not zoomed in on was just as strong as memory for features that were zoomed in on,” the professor wrote. “This suggests that the additional attention and cognitive processes engaged by this focused activity can eliminate the photo-taking-impairment effect.”

Why not challenge yourself to a photo-free day? For 24 hours, see the world through your eyes, not your screen. Take absolutely no pictures -- not of your lunch, your children, your cubicle mate, or that beautiful sunset. No photo messages. No cat pics. Instagrammers, it’s gonna get rocky. Snapchatsters? Hang in there. Everyone is going to be okay. I promise.

Those of you who take one picture a month -- like my mother -- will find this challenge a breeze. But before you get too smug, know that this might be harder than you think. Many people reported they took pictures way more, and way more mindlessly, than they had previously imagined. But you will experience rewards for your sacrifice. “Sure, the world does want to see my adorable grandchildren and gorgeous children,” Beth in Indiana wrote us. “However, it’s been a liberating twenty-four hours!”

If a participant in my Bored and Brilliant photo-free challenge were given a prize for the day, it might have to be Vanessa Jean Herald, whose green Subaru skidded off the highway and into a snowy ditch during her one-hour commute between the southern Wisconsin farm where she lives and her job in Madison. Although she had to wait more than two hours in frigid temperatures for a tow truck to arrive, Herald did not lose her resolve!

“I placed my necessary emergency calls, sent some texts to let folks know I was okay, and then just sat,” she wrote. “Sure, my gut reaction was to snap a picture of the car sitting in the ditch and covered with thrown snow for Instagram. Or, to snap a photo of the cool way the red and blue lights of the sheriff’s car blinked in my rearview mirror and lit up the roadway as the day turned to night through my two-hour mandatory break from life. But thanks to today’s challenge, instead I chilled out, took it all in, and then pulled out my writing notebook to jot down a story about how the best-laid plans sometimes end you up in a ditch on the side of the road.” [Place imaginary photo of green Subaru in a snowy ditch on the side of the road here.]

Don’t worry if your photo-free inspiration doesn’t spill out in a well-formed story like Herald’s. And it’s okay to be uncomfortable, hostile or bored without photos to fill your day. Just use your brain instead of your phone. No one is going to “heart” or “like” whatever goes on up there, except for you.

And if you want a deeper detox from digital images, avoid all photo proliferation for the day -- meaning you can check out images on social media, but don’t “like” or retweet them. Just take a good look, and maybe a (mental) picture.



more on images. Click here.

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