This week I shot a documentary of sorts. I recorded my brother’s comedy routine at a rock club in Nashville using a Sony hand-held camera. I bought it six months ago from a friend for $350.

The stand-up performance lasted 28 minutes, and this camera records to 30-minute mini-DVDs, so it was a perfect fit. I didn’t worry about lighting. And I didn’t worry about the sound … the camera has a built-in microphone that doesn’t seem to disappoint.

The only things I did have to do: Get to the show early enough to get a seat in the front row; make sure my camera battery was charged; and have a disk ready to record. What did I capture on video? Plenty.

His performance that night is now on a small silver disc anyone can pop into a DVD player. Live video is much better than trying to remember, days and weeks later, which jokes were the best.

The footage is a little dark - especially when my brother jumped off stage to talk to people in the crowd - but it looks cool. You can’t tell what the club is really like, but that wraps the performance in mystique, the mystique that life on Planet Earth is layered with every second in every way.

Cameras make instant art out of life, and that’s thrilling to sit back and watch. But be careful. Recording life is work and it changes how you experience things. Watching a boxing match live in the front row with two free hands is much different than watching the match with tired arms and a camera smack in front of your face.