Lean into the Good

 Polaroids: Tangible Memories in a Digital World

A Love Letter to the Physical Photograph

Some may call me a hoarder. I have been known to never throw things away. Birthday and grad cards, letters from friends, pages from books, even sticky notes my dad leaves on my bathroom mirror have been known to collect themselves in boxes under my bed or hung on my wall. I crave the tangible: something I can hold and think: this is something I never want to forget.

I think this is partly what drew me to be a photographer. Finding a moment and saying I want to remember this. This needs to be captured and seen. A race car speeding down a track, a driver’s first podium celebration, a mom hugging her daughter on her wedding day. These are all moments that will be passed down through generations. Photos that will be able to transport the viewer into the scene, and give them a feeling of what it was like to be there. 

In our digital world, most of these memories exist on screens. Us photographers capture things on a screen, edit them on a screen, only for them to be shared to others on a screen. This is something that has always bothered me that I could never quite put into words. I realized one day that if I never had access to a laptop again, I could never share the work that I don’t have printed out. (this is very doom and gloom/unrealistic of me, but hear me out). 

In a world where all my work, school, and hobbies revolve around the screen, anything not connected to a phone or laptop gives me a much needed break.

If you are close to me, chances are you have heard me talk about (or even have seen!) my Polaroid wall. Its a collection of Instax and actual Polaroid photos hung on a string with tiny clothespins. Its my favorite part of my room, and I am constantly adding new memories to it. I think its nearing about 150 photos now, and I have even added a whole other section on a different wall. 

These tiny vignettes mean the world to me. I can’t tell you how often I stop and look at them all for a few moments before continuing on my day. I can pick each one of them up and physically hold a memory that brought me joy and reminds me how rich life can be when you stop and notice. 

Beyond the physical, beyond holding a joy-filled moment, these photographs are a tangible reminder of God and all the blessings and joys he brings to my life. When I look at my wall, I see nothing but moments that I am thankful for. Pictures from my first trip to a new track, my 21st birthday, dances, a night at the symphony, hiking, seeing friends I only see once a year, my graduation party, Belize, countless road trips and countless race weekends have all been captured on these little pieces of plastic. I can keep them and pass them on to my kids and even grandkids one day. 

All of them remind me and anchor me during times of doubt and fear. I can pick one up and be transported to a moment where God showed up. I can look at them and think I have so much to be grateful for. In the words of my twin, “my heart is so full and God’s not even finished yet”

Do I keep too many things? You could say that. But in a world stuck in the digital, filled with people who crave the tangible, my pile of photos and I will gladly be called hoarders anyday.

Print out the photos. Steal memories with an instant camera. I promise you will appreciate your memories and notice more blessings because of it. 

-emma cora