There are often aspects of an artwork that are impossible to capture with a camera lens; some quality of color or light or tangible substance that vanishes the moment a picture is snapped. It doesn’t look like that, you think, frowning at the oddly lit, washed out image on your phone screen. Maybe you then feel frustrated that you can’t save or share the artwork in a way that feels like you’re doing it justice. But could an argument be made for the unique significance, or the singular intimacy, of such an artwork experience that defies replication?