Murder My Digital Darlings

Dang my boasting about being the only one at my workplace who can throw things away. It's true, I have no love of things, so long as those things are physical. Once they are captured by a CCD chip and translated into ones and zeros, however, they are my precious darlings and it hurts me like a hangnail to erase them.

This weekend, I took over 500 pictures. I've managed to select the best 125 or so (at 125, the term best is a little bit of an exaggeration. 2 of these pictures are of grass--just grass.), but I don't know if I should delete the rest. What if I change my mind?

When I took a traditional photography course and had to make contact sheets, test strips, proofs, prints, then paint out the dust spots and such, I was ruthlessly selective about the photographs I bothered to make and keep. Now that the only thing at stake is gigabytes and the patience of flickr folks, I'm a photo hamster.

Maybe modern art was about conception. Art in this age is about selection. Some smart person probably figured that out in the days of the Commodore 64. I wish that person was around to help me delete some of my photographs.