62 // via http://mk2weddings.blogspot.com: Genius
I’ve had two epiphanies in my life this year: One was during a white chocolate ganache dessert at Volt, a restaurant hear in Frederick. The other was this morning while looking at photos by Mary Kate McKenna, a local photographer.
These moments are hard to describe, being a sort of emotional reaction. How shall I couch this? I’m a cynic, a realist pretty much convinced that if we can’t experience something in some way, it doesn’t really exist.
I thought food, for example, is just nature’s way of maintaining our bodies. There is nothing special or extra-sensory about it. You eat. You go. That’s all. Then I ate at Volt. The food was good, sure. Bryan Voltaggio’s proved he’s a world-class chef from his time on Top Chef.
Then I ate dessert. I was no longer there, in the conversation. I wasn’t present in the restaurant. It was just me, this taste and … well, I guess I entered a state of what Zen masters call “no mind.”
Now, that’s genius. The epiphnay was understanding, experiencing, what all these obnoxious food critics go on about. (If you’ve ever seen “Ratatouille,” you’ll remember the scene where the food critic is instantaneously transported back to his childhood by a single taste of ratatouille). Food, I believed, couldn’t possibly do that.
I believed the same thing of pictures. What can a static image teach us about ourselves?
Looking at the photographs taken by Mary Kate, I experienced something profoundly different, but every bit as much a moment of enlightenment. Mary Kate and my family spent about an hour on Carroll Creek for a photo session that I wanted to give my wife for her birthday.
Mary Kate sent through a link to the photos today. Here’s the thing, they are awesome. Philosophers, mainly of the Continental school, have this concept called authenticity. It’s kind of a subjective term, but it’s to do with capturing the truth of something, and in doing so, making it subjectively genuine.
The photographs I saw had that authenticity. The pictures of my children made me see them as I always see them. That may sound common or garden, but in reality it is not. Pictures don’t capture the truth of what we see everyday. They are, supposedly, a moment in time, divorced from all the preceding and antecedent moments. But these still moments of my children held in them the absolute and authentic timeless essence of my kids.
That is to say, they captured something eternal. In 20 years, in 50 years, I will be able to look back on these photographs and say with absolute certainty, “This is my son and this is my daughter, and this is how they were in this moment, and countless other moments like them. this is them in a moment of truth.”
It takes a true artist to be able to give the experience of authenticity. It takes a true artist to provide us with a transcendence that allows us to touch on a thing greater than ourselves, something immutable and eternal.
