At least I didn’t have my cameras stolen
January 6, 2022
January 6, 2022
From the car, on our way home, just after passing Stockholm, I saw the snow gradually disappearing. The most beautiful colours came to the surface, 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 beside 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. 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. 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.
Clicking through this series feels disorientating, like getting lost. Haven’t I just seen this picture before? Did I accidentally upload it twice? Haven’t I been here before? Did I already pass this pile of chopped wood? This tree, this path? It’s getting late, and I’m walking around in circles.
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. 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.
Clicking through this series feels disorientating, like getting lost. Haven’t I just seen this picture before? Did I accidentally upload it twice? Haven’t I been here before? Did I already pass this pile of chopped wood? This tree, this path? It’s getting late, and I’m walking around in circles.