My photographs become the pillars that sustain my visual world.
Do I carry the luminous landscapes of South America when I enter the darkness of the Nordic tundra?
Do I remember the Scandinavian light summer nights when I walk beneath the stars of Atacama Desert?
My eyes roam over the landscape, as the hunters’ must have done in The Kalahari thousands of years ago. For a short moment, I hide myself behind the camera and focus in order to see a new picture. Where does the limit between greed and natural curiosity go? I have a need for something to take home - something to preserve. Perhaps photography has to do with the perception of Time? With a wish of erasing the differences between old and new in order to catch a sense of the eternal?
I wish to know the secrets of nature and of human beings in order to understand the world better. I need to find the roots of what becomes universal. I am always searching for the limit between light and shadows in order to separate them, so as to comprehend. In this sense, I may be seeking a kind of control, wanting to catch the whole world in, say, a little shell, so I can have it in the palm of my hand – and feel safe. Or catch it in a big smile so when I am sad I can remember joy while looking at the particular picture? Or create the picture of a sad face, so as to grasp my own sorrows?
Taking pictures changes your perception. To photograph allows you to contemplate a world that spins faster and faster.