Lately, I’ve been watching Cascade Mountain and a few of the buildings at The Banff Centre via the Centre’s cool webcam. I check it out in the morning, I guess, to try to simulate the thrill of getting that first view of the mountains when actually lucky enough to be in the Rockies — and disciplined enough to get up early. Occasionally, I use it as a momentary emotional escape hatch out of an office tower meeting pushing an hour that should have been 30 minutes. You get the picture.

For a rectangular image that sits on my laptop, the webcam screen is, in a way, enlargening. Typically, when I get back from a vacation, whether to the mountains or wherever, I return resolved not to submit to the tyranny of the now visible. And to remember, for instance, that at this exact moment there are people walking into the Safeway on the corner of Robson and Denman in Vancouver, or walking past the Peace Tower in Ottawa. Right now, just not right here, laundry is on the line in a neighbourhood in Havana. Right now at Cafe Trieste in San Francisco there are sounds of a latte being made and maybe some accordion music being piped in. At this very moment at Coyotes in Banff, if you glanced to your left walking down the stairs, you would see the kitchen chefs at work. And in another instance of right now but not right here, Cascade Mountain looms over The Banff Centre.
The webcam experience also does an opposite kind of work, investing a newness in the seemingly mundane scene in front of us. One of the many criticisms of webcams is that nothing happens. That’s true, until you look.
And see that where once there was no truck:

Moments later, there is:

Other times, smudgy contingencies, like a piece of snow or ice on the lens, makes for newness:

Taking us further out to the “exotic,” yes, but also further in to the familiar. There are deeper depths to plumb when thinking about webcams and what they involve the viewer in. One question, for me, is to what extent I am being viewed (by myself?) as I gaze at Cascade Mountain? Another, is whether I am mistaken by feeling I have somehow gotten away from the grids and arithmetic and garishness of the rational city by slipping into the Rockies via this computerized portal?
A longer version of this post was originally published by Glenn Kubish on his personal blog http://glennkubish.blogspot.ca/ and was reposted with permission.