
why do we take
the photo?
A Question We Should All Ask
the story:
Mesa Arch is one of the most photographed spots in Utah—but what happens when Instagram turns wonder into performance? A personal reflection on presence, photography, and the moments we miss.
You’ve heard the saying: Never meet your heroes. I’ve met a few of mine—and to my surprise, they were just as cool, if not more down-to-earth, than I expected. But that’s not always the case.
Take Mesa Arch, for example. One of the most iconic landmarks in southern Utah. You’ve seen it a thousand times—glowing at sunrise, perfectly framed. But what you don’t see are the dozens of people packed behind the lens: tripods, smartphones, elbows jockeying for position. What you really need is Photoshop to erase the crowd.
That’s the tragedy of Instagram. It strips away the magic from something truly remarkable.
Don’t get me wrong—I'm grateful people are willing to wake up at 4:00 AM to witness it. I did the same. But imagine, just for a second, what it would’ve felt like if none of us brought a camera. If we simply stood there in silence, watching the sun rise and cheering as it broke through the clouds. Like a shared moment in a movie theater—everyone caught in the same awe-struck breath.
And honestly, there is something special about gathering together to capture these moments. In its own way, it is a collective experience. But deep down, we photographers all want the best shot—and sometimes, that’s hard to fight. (No ego, amigo.)
More often than not, though, we do it for the ’Gram. We snap the photo, post it, and wait for the likes. A little hit of dopamine straight to the dome. These moments can be beautiful—until they’re not. Until it becomes less about presence and more about performance.
I’m guilty of it. We all are, to some degree.
Can we turn back the clock? Can we unplug from the “Gram-fluence” and just be in the moment—not reaching for the phone, not composing the perfect shot?
I don’t know.
I tried not to take a picture. I really did. But every fiber in me said, Click the shutter.
If you’ve seen The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, you might remember the scene with the snow leopard. The photographer chooses not to take the shot—just to watch. I understand that. But part of me wonders: Was that selfish? Wouldn’t you want to share that moment with the world?
Maybe that’s why we gather—so early in the dark. Some show up just for the ’Gram. But I believe others are drawn there for healing, for inspiration, or simply for the joy of watching the sun rise.
So... why do we do it? And what are we really after?
As a filmmaker and photographer, I wrestle with this every time I pick up a camera. My job requires me to capture fleeting moments—but deep down, I face the same question: Do I take the image, or do I sit back and just let the moment unfold?
The photo might be the same either way.But the intention behind it?
That’s what makes all the difference.