February 15, 2020

It’s tempting to think of these as an antidote to the latest thing I did for work – the eyepopping colours of our newly decorated restrooms. But they are not so different really. Both sets of pictures are about lines and perspectives and framing. I don’t like this architecture any more than I liked the artwork I photographed, but that feels irrelevant in both cases, in pretty much the same way. I do set my ‘assignments’ apart on the website, because they provide a different context in which the pictures are taken, and I don’t always get to choose my subjects, but I would never call the one thing ‘work’ and the other ‘personal’. It’s all personal.

Pictures taken with the new Nikon Z6.


January 15, 2020

I’ve never been particularly interested in photo gear, the newest models and their technology. I have never owned a lot of equipment, and I’m not sentimental about objects, generally speaking. And yet, one does, I suppose, develop a sort of relationship with a camera. Having two of them, and feeling differently about them, makes that all the more evident. The Nikon the mature, steady and trustworthy companion, the Fuji the obstinate youngster that delights and disappoints at will. I’ve been happy with the outcome of both, that counts for something. Now that they are gone, I was all too inclined to run to my retailer, buy exactly the same set of cameras, put them in the same bag, mount the same tripod on it, and nothing ever really happened. But times have changed, that’s what happened. 

Pictures taken at Blijdorp Zoo in Rotterdam, with a try-before-you-buy mirrorless Nikon Z6 camera.

Photographer without a camera

January 6, 2020
A small church of grey brick behind birches, just north of Stockholm, with a faint sunlight on its facade. A house partly covered in plastic for renovation, on a barren hill with some patches of snow in a bloody lovely light. A school's playground in the woods. A forever closed roadside Thai take away. An icy meadow with a mountain slope in the background that has a strange gap in it. Boats covered for winter in a small harbour. A reddish sea of dead ferns, like waves. Wetlands in the last of daylight.

It pains me to remember them, to never see them come to life. And I wonder, how will I remember this time, this place, these landscapes, if not by them. I miss these images, if only to replace the black void, the crumbled window and the empty back seat of the car.

I knew they were good. I felt more confident about these unseen photographs than I usually do after a couple of weeks traveling. And there will never be proof to the contrary, so these pictures will always be the best I've ever taken.


December 08, 2019

I found a different take on this on the hard drive. It’s one of my earliest interiors, one that I’ve always had a weak spot for. It belongs to that undefined, hypothetical collection of photographs, mostly from the early days, that I feel have pointed me in a certain direction. The kind of picture that I’ve taken many times since then, but differently. Or not so differently. One that I know better than most, regardless its age. I have familiarized myself with every aspect of it, the lines, the stains on the walls, the colour of the woodwork, the reflection on the ceiling and the light breeze touching the curtains.

And now it’s here again, with the lights turned on and some patches of sunlight stroking the walls and carpet. An odd feeling, it’s like seeing it coming to life. And now I’m imagining how a collection of b-sides, outtakes, the ones that didn’t make it to the platforms, dismissed in favour of its siblings sitting next to it in a folder on the computer, and ultimately, forgotten, how these photographs would form a sort of parallel universe. Shifting my whole perspective and memory a couple degrees, a couple of hours or, more likely, seconds.

Hotel in Valdivia, Chile, 2012.

Model making

October 29, 2019

One that I wanted to see full page.

But then.. hmm, perhaps not. This would have been so much better with a lower ISO and a tripod. It’s a bit coarse and clumpy. Grainier than I expected with this camera. It was underexposed, and not just a little, that’s why. Sloppy. Not particularly sharp either, because of the held-held noise reduction combo. I’m willing to overlook the clipping in the background, but only barely. Do love it though, this picture, for its subject, but certainly not for its execution. 

I remember taking this shot rather hastily. I had been looking at the model making for a while, and suddenly all students were out of the frame. Walked away from their desk or dived under it to pick something up from the ground. And I love pictures of workplaces without the actual work being done. 

Model making at the Crown Hall (Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, 1965), home of the College of Architecture at the Illinois Institute of Technology in Chicago.