Up until relatively recently, the only way to post a non-square photo on Instagram was with an external app. IG became, by default, a place of square photos. Who, after all, had time to be dicking around on their phone with an extra uni-tasker app they didn't really have space for in the first place?
Well, I did. Sometimes. Every once in a while I wanted to post a photo that just had to have that extra millimeter on one side. But then IG upgraded, and now you don't need another app to post a non-square photo anymore. IG removed its own definition of what an IG photo should be. But I refuse to go along. Now that the option of non-square photos is baked in, I refuse to use it. IG defined itself with squareness, and I won't let the one social media platform I enjoy undefine itself.
This means there are limits to what I can post. That's good. No one, not even my parents, wants to see every single picture I take. I don't want to see them. So some photos don't work as squares: okay. So IG isn't the place for them. Maybe they're great photos and they belong on a wall somewhere instead (either physical or Facebook).
The word "limit" has some negative connotations, but I say it's limits that make things interesting and give them meaning. If anyone can do anything they want, anytime, you don't get creativity; you get a lot of people fucking around and annoying each other. Limits create focus. Focus is how the magic happens.
All communication, after all, from abstract finger painting to narrative nonfiction, has rules. (Otherwise you would spell purple "basdvio," and really mean green.) Depending on the form of expression, the rules expand or contract. Sonnets have more rules than free verse, so writing sonnets (as I haven't done since high school, but I remember enjoying) is fun and challenging in a different (not better) way than writing free verse.
I want Instagram to have that same sense of challenge. I want it to retain an internal consistency, a purity. I want to take a stand on all these tiny little details because taking a stand on the big things is easy; it's the niggling things that'll kill you.
(For more detailed thoughts on poetry and rhyme, see The Anthologist. While you're at it, read this poem and become a better person.)
RECIPE: Malted Milk Ice Cream. Just... yes. I bought a 2-pound can of malt powder just so I could make this ice cream over, and over, and over again. I've still never put the chunks in, but I don't see why they wouldn't be great; chocolate-covered pretzels too. (Tangentially: Always order your milkshake malted.)
No comments:
Post a Comment