I always choose matte.

Remember when people actually printed out their photographs? I used to take photos with my dad's old Yashica, shoot a roll of 24, and send it away IN THE MAIL to be developed. By the time my prints showed up in the mailbox a few weeks later, I usually forgot what I'd shot, and it was a fun surprise to see the results.

When filling out a form to send my photos away, I always chose "matte" -- never "glossy". Matte just fit better with the images I was taking: irises blowing in the breeze on the side of a dirt road; a close-up of clothespins on a dewy morning clothesline; a cat walking along a weathered fencepost. Living outside of the city, my eyes absorbed the effortless beauty of humble objects in nature. Nothing was contrived, primped or polished. An interesting shadow on a wall or an unusual texture was enough to draw me in. Beauty settled around me in dust motes, like nature sharing a secret.

I never took it lightly, checking off that "matte" checkbox. It seemed a vital aesthetic choice to me, even at the age of twelve. And, 20+ years later, I still choose matte, in all its various forms, whatever the word stands for in my mind.

Photo taken at a farm in Maine, on an analog camera.