A few weeks later, Lewis arrived at the Star-Club in Hamburg, West Germany. If you don't know what happened that night, you can read about it here.
Even the stopped moment of a photograph paradoxically releases its figures by holding them because the actual change, the movement away from the stilled moment, has already taken place, outside the frame of the photograph, and the moment we see ourselves stilled, we know we have also moved on. This is the sadness of the photograph: knowing, even as you look, it is not like this, though it was. You stand in the "was" of the present moment and you die a little with the photograph.I don't think that the smooth flow of last summer's downloaded (and increasingly uploaded) videos are much different from the fading photographs in the basement. Though we see ourselves in action, there on the bright screen, moving, alone or with people, creating the third-person community of was, we are still here in our first-person, present skepticism, insisting that it wasn't like that, that it was.