Yesterday, I went to the latest show of whom I consider to be Belgium's finest stand-up comedian: Bart Cannaerts ('Waar is Barry'). With his mix of clever puns, funny observations describing the connection between our language and everyday life, neurotic stories and a sheer amount of visual humour, he had me going through the complete spectrum: from chuckling over smiling to laughing out loud. One of the nice things about his show was the fact that it actually carried a message. Without giving too much away, as I do recommend you to check him out yourself, I can share a particularly interesting reflection of his, concerning photographs. "Photographs", he said, "are usually taken under the pretext of giving you the opportunity to live the moment again, at home. This is bullshit, as you didn't actually live the moment, since you were too busy taking the picture in the first place."
This reminded me of a particular experience I had this weekend, not to mention all the previous times (notably whilst traveling). I had one of these moments that will sound quite familiar to keen photographers, in which the only thing you can think is "Damned, where's my camera when I need it?". On my way home, cycling along a riverbank in Ghent, I noticed a flock of birds (geese, I suppose) flying in what can safely be described as a fractal formation. You are probably familiar with the typical V-shaped form, but this was different, almost like a binary tree - if that makes sense to you. Halfway one of the legs of the bigger V, another leg branched off, generating a smaller version of the original shape. This repeated itself at several places, including the smaller branches, generating something which essentially resembled a river delta. Quite fitting, I thought, as they are probably on their way to a river delta, somewhere near the equator.
This particular view of the sky was mesmerizing: the mathematical pattern, the actual colour of the sky, the birds following each other; it made me realize that I was missing a perfect shot. And yet, in retrospect, I feel quite happy that I did not have the opportunity to capture it on film, as this might have ruined my recollection. The mental image is firmly etched into my mind now, making it way stronger than the 4.6Mb image I could have extracted with my camera. As cheesy as it sounds, I really enjoyed riding my bike whilst looking upwards, seeing these magnificent creatures head towards their friends in the South. They were probably completely in panic "What the duck is going on here? Weren't we supposed to leave like... I don't know, a month or two ago?". I envisioned families of geese, switching heads from thermometer to calender, staring at the not so freezing temperatures in utter disbelief, fearing that the annual barbeque party in the backyard of their African friends would no longer be an option.
But look, it's one week later and the situation drastically changed. Hundreds of people frozen to death as temperatures keep plunging (reasons to stop complaining about trivial shit: plus one), political turmoil over the fact that homeless people have to spend the night outside, and there is more to come. I am safely inside now: nicely warm on the outside - thank your local deity for sweaters and heaters, nicely warm on the inside. Because I saw them geezers on their way to normality, minding their own aviary business. I wished them good luck, I do hope they'll drop me a postcard...
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