Just like how every experience in real life can teach us something new if we look at it with an open mind, behind every video there are lessons to be found that can shape our lives.
YouTube is now how we experience and are first exposed to significant pieces of information and culture. We live in an amazing world—where virtually everything eventually becomes a free video. We accept any sound or video quality, because we’re grateful to have access to this digital library.
We can summon amazing videos anytime. Wow. Click. Wow. Click. One after the other. “Amazing” becomes casual. Give me that quick hit of “Amazing”, a quick “laugh”, a quick hit of any emotion—and then I’m right back to thinking about what’s for lunch.
I believe YouTube can condition your brain to crave instant entertainment—restructuring what’s impressive and what is now. When you can see whatever you want, whenever you want, things lose their speciality (if you let them). Since you can replay a video an unlimited number of times, you don’t have to pay attention. Life outside the digital world is not like that—every moment that passes you by you cannot get back.
I find myself expecting to see or hear something powerful every single time I go to YouTube, which in actuality is the mindset I should have all the time. The emotional states that YouTube videos can put us in are amazing. But when I limit myself to finding intense emotions online, it disrespects the life in front of me. This idea that new, incredible emotions cannot be discovered on your walk to work, or in conversation with your partner is completely false.
When you watch footage of someone surfing hurricane waves in Hawaii, your brain can fuck up the process of internalizing what you just saw—it can put that experience on some fucked up pedestal. Instead of saying “Wow, that’s amazing”, it jumps straight to “Wow, that’s amazing. I could never do that so I’m not even going to try to learn how to surf.”.
The more we reduce experiences, the more I want to see them for myself. Reduction in the sense that we let our mind think that the highest form of an experience is the medium: the amazing video clip, the perfect photograph, the beautiful poem.
When your mind associates “amazing” only with GoPro footage of people squirrel jumping off mountains, it can also dull the incredible experience of hiking a local trail, the excitement of swimming in a small stream, or driving with a friend. In my opinion, the amazing that exists in a video pales in comparison to the real opportunities around you. We should not settle for 4k Ultra HD video of a sunset.
When a YouTube screen shot prints blurry, that’s a step towards reality. My relationship to that video changes when I see it as a tangible, grainy print—without sound, without motion. It exposes the limitations of the medium. The illusion starts to disappear. A grainy picture of a night sky makes me want to go see the real thing, tonight. I don’t want to miss the amazing things around me or have my relationship to an experience to be a YouTube video—or a print that’s hanging on the wall. What I want is the experience.
This process of transitioning from digital to print is obviously not an original idea, but for me, it’s a step worth taking over and over again.
dededos
yousharknotpass
pixelskylines
titsay
discoholicmusic
jacobvanloon