At least I didn’t have my cameras stolen
January 6, 2022
Öregrund, Sweden, a 20 minute drive from Tuskö.
The house in Dalarö, Sweden. 
From the car, on our way home, just after passing Stockholm, I saw the snow gradually disappearing. The most beautiful colours appeared, shades of brown, reddish and beige, shades of dark green, against a grey sky – this sounds like drab, but even so, it touched a nerve, these landscapes, right besides the highway, sloping, soaked. Naked all of a sudden, without its white cover. Sometimes looking at a landscape feels like looking at someone you love. That’s how it was. On a Monday afternoon from behind the window of a car. I didn’t just see opportunities, I saw frames passing by, flawless, meticulously composed frames in deep, earthy hues. They made me feel like I had made a mistake, wishing for snow.

Not that I didn’t like it. I loved walking through these white, fluffy landscapes, the silence and the cold light. But strangely enough, I don’t care much for most of the pictures I took. There is only a handful that take root. From the colour files perhaps only these two. And it’s okay to notice that they are not landscapes. I initially selected a dozen for the website, but one after the other bit the dust*. They are not all bad. Just pictures that I don’t really want to make. Even if I enjoyed taking them.

The house in Tuskö was situated deep into the woods. It was stunningly beautiful, this snow covered landscape all around. All these pictures are taken in the immediate surroundings of the house, in the afternoon, when daylight is quickly fading from as early as 2.30pm. Often the same paths and trees, in just slightly different light conditions. For some reason I do care about this little series. For its repetitiveness, for the dark afternoons that were something exotic to me. For the love of snow in this soft light. For this being our world for a couple of days.

*which didn’t keep me from uploading them anyway less than a week later.