Scourge of selfies obscures the scenery

O ne of the more odious scourges of the digital age — and there are many — is the selfie, that ubiquitous turned-inward, all-about-me, I-was-here, ain’t-I-cute exercise in narcissism, to put it in the most subtle way possible.

Social media and incredible technology allow us to share photos to an extent hardly anyone could have imagined a few years ago.

New baby? No problem — the grandparents receive a picture before the kid has even been hung up to dry. First smile, first steps, first lost tooth — the hits just keep coming, megabytes of irresistible charm and cuteness.

Travellers can let friends and family back home see instantly what they are seeing, the ultimate “wish you were here” postcard. Yes, I’m slightly envious of my brother and sister-inlaw who are, at this moment, tootling about France in a rented motorhome, but I’m still enjoying the photos they post daily. I’m grateful they concentrate on the scenery and historic architecture, and keep photos of themselves to a minimum.

Not so for many, many tourists I saw during a recent visit to Butchart Gardens. Almost everyone there was shooting photos, and why not? Words aren’t adequate to describe the wonder of the flowers, shrubbery, trees and landscaping there — only pictures can do it. It’s difficult to get a bad photo there.

But many were succeeding. They were so busy lining themselves up in the screens of their smartphones, I wonder if they even noticed the amazing variety of roses, the countless shades of green, the mind-boggling beauty of it all. I can’t imagine a selfie, no matter how well posed it is, being an improvement on the scenery.

Photos are about preserving memories, about capturing the moment, about interpreting what you see. Niagara Falls is awe-inspiring; your grinning mug is not. Of course you should have a few photos of yourself when you travel, but when you are focusing on yourself, you are missing out on so many grand and remarkable things.

These were some of the thoughts on my mind as I wandered about Butchart Gardens, trying to get a photo that wasn’t jam-packed with people, especially people taking photos of themselves.

I lined up a shot across the rose gardens in my telephoto lens, waiting for the crowds to clear, when I saw five women setting up a selfie. The one in the centre held the selfie stick, the others crowded around to smile at the smartphone. I groaned.

I shot the photo — five people in the middle of world-famous gardens, surrounded by colour and beauty, and they were taking a photo of themselves? Let’s put this one on Facebook, I thought — for a second or two.

But that would be unfairly exposing them to ridicule. And they did not know I was taking their photo. Even though they were in a public place, I was invading their privacy.

And when I opened the photo on my computer, I saw it in a different light. I didn’t see narcissism, vanity or selfabsorption, but five friends having fun, enjoying the moment. It’s not hard to imagine them looking at that photo years from now and smiling.

And I thought of other selfies I have liked. One my son shot of himself while hanging on the outside of a jitney bus in the Philippines, his blown-back hair hinting at how fast the bus was going, a shot guaranteed to make his parents worry, but one that now makes them smile.

I have a photo of a grandson and his girlfriend, shot using a selfie stick as they climbed a mountain in Waterton Lakes National Park. They are at the bottom of the photo — the spectacular scenery dominates. I have a granddaughter who experiments with hairstyles and sends us photos we enjoy.

So I’ll have to admit that not all selfies are bad, that they occasionally might have their place.

And they’re nothing new — think of all the classical artists who have done self-portraits. (Some even emulate Van Gogh by posting photos of themselves with their latest wounds.)

I confess I don’t get it. A glimpse in the mirror is more than enough selfie for me, especially first thing in the morning.