#74 Forever unchanging
about the immutability of photos
The info on your ID card is spot on. Well, with one exception: your passport photo. That little portrait staring back at you? That’s a younger, smoother, and frankly, more innocent version of yourself.
Back then, your skin hadn’t yet decided to accessorise with wrinkles, your hair was blissfully unaware of the concept of thinning, and your eyes still had that wide-eyed optimism you might now laugh at.
You change. The world changes. But that frozen snapshot of the past? It stubbornly refuses to budge.
Back in 2008, researchers Shanyang Zhao, S. Grasmuck and Jason M. Martin pointed out in their paper "Identity Construction on Facebook: Digital Empowerment in Anchored Relationships" that people actually don’t like talking about themselves too explicitly on social media. No surprise there, right?
Instead, we craft our online identity in other ways, through profile pictures, likes and carefully curated posts (sometimes containing photographs). It’s a neat little trick because, in real life, you get to switch gears: professional mode at work, party animal with friends, and the sweet, well-behaved kid at your parents’ dinner table.
Online? Nope. Facebook (and the rest of the internet) only accepts one type of context, an all-encompassing one size fits all “like-” or “follow-” relationship.
But your online audience is a chaotic mix of coworkers, family, exes, and distant acquaintances, so good luck keeping all your different personas in check.
And here’s the kicker: it’s not just context that crumbles online, time does too. The internet is ruthless. It never forgets. Your old posts? Maybe they’re buried deep in your profile or even deleted, but search engines will dig them up like digital archaeologists. Your online presence is just like your passport photo, or, by extension, any other photo. Frozen in time, unable to evolve.
In the real world, you can change your mind, grow, and gain new perspectives. But that tweet you posted two years ago? That thing is carved into the internet like an ancient tablet, waiting to trip up your future self.
The people in the photos I took last week share the same fate. Trapped in rigid pixels, sealed off from the ever-shifting, unpredictable mess we call reality. Forever exiled from the ever-moving, ever-changing reality.
