Imagining Life

Imagining Life – a personal photographic essay

A very personal and ongoing photographic work on life. The one and only there is. It’s simple. And complex beyond imagination.

The work consist of a visual documentation of the simple everyday life accompanied by little bits of thoughts on the complexities of life.

All this will, most definitely, some day, become a photographic book.

On dancing and singing

Who am I? Who are you? And we? What is the meaning of it all? Is there any? I don’t know. I Don’t think I’m gonna find out either. I recon there is no higher meaning. We’re supposed to be. Just be. And we’re supposed to let others be too. And if we enjoy it along the way, nothing’s wasted. We must “dance and sing while the music is being played,” like Alan Watts said it.

On mostly enjoying being me

And I really try hard. To dance and sing. Every day. This photo essay is me dancing and singing. There’s nothing in the images. And there’s everything in them. They’re all made right here. In my life. Nothing special is going on. Just life. The words come to me on different occasions. Sometimes while photographing. Other times when reading. And yet other times when laying sleepless in my bed. My head’s spinning. All the time. With these thoughts. I try to turn down the volume so that I can have some peace. Sometimes it works. Most often it doesn’t. I’m just living with them. They’re me. And I have no choice but living with myself. And that’s okay. I’ve accepted it. I even mostly enjoy it.

On the struggle of staying positive

I tend to differ the days between the good ones and the not so good or even crappy ones. But they’re all good. Actually they’re all great. Like miracles repeating themselves. Like the movie Groundhog Day. Except this isn’t a nightmare. It’s a good dream. Every day is living. Every day is life. When days sometimes, for many different reasons, seem to be a struggle, this is when I remind myself that I’m alive. I love the things I do. I’m surrounded by people that I love. And even on the darkest of days a new light will shine suddenly and unexpected. That is life. One can’t predict anything. But I remember myself that it’s precious and I must appreciate it. Tomorrow will be another great day

On balance

In balance. Or not. Hard to tell the difference. Is balance standing still? Is standing still something one must avoid? It’s nice being right there. In the middle of stillness. And when really concentrating there. Something happens. You can suddenly hear. And maybe that’s where you find yourself in balance.

On doing nothing

Being. And nothing else. Nothing less. It must be the purpose. Sometimes a struggle. Other times impossible. On rare occasions simple. It’s a choice. Something conscious. I’m learning from the youngest. Nothing’s going on. Exactly like it’s supposed to be. Doing nothing isn’t easy. We’re training hard and determined. And we’re doing very well.

On the reasons…

Why am I doing what I do? Or rather, for whom am I doing what I do? When alone, I do things for myself, right? But is my self, without anyone else? Am I, if no one else is? When alone, for whom am I playing music for? For whom am I taking notes for? Enjoying a single malt from a nice whisky glass for? Placing things in my home in nice, well thought but apparently random order for? Do I ever do anything for myself only? Or for someone not present. For someone I know and like. Or for a fictional someone? Am I, if no one, real or fictional, defines that I am? For whom am I writing this? Was I, before SoMe confirmed that I was? Was anyone, when SoMe wasn’t? When there where only So and no Me?

On photographing

Why do I photograph? I ask myself that question on a regular basis. Sometimes I struggle a bit when trying to answer the question. Sometimes the answer just pops up almost by itself. I photograph because I can’t not do it. I have something inside me that needs to get out. Myself I believe. Maybe I’ll explode if I don’t photograph? That’s a fairly good reason to keep doing it. Not the right one though. It’s really hard to come up with something clever that hasn’t already been said by one of the photographic pioneers that I admire so much. To me, photographing is life. And I photograph it. Life. Mainly my own. It’s a drive from deep within myself. Doing it is a premise for living. It’s like breathing. It’s like loving. And being loved. And making love. It’s a basic instinct refusing to let itself be suppressed. It’s a way of expressing myself even when I’m not sure what I want expressed. When photographing I most often detach my brain and instead go with the gut and the heart. And then something happens. The feeling of giving yourself is both frightening and pleasing. When something’s at stake the satisfaction is ten fold. Photographing is a bit like standing naked and defenseless in front of everyone. And staying. It’s scary, it’s awkward, it’s vulnerable. But it’s also thrilling and rewarding and exciting and deeply satisfying. It’s like a drug. And I’m forever lost in getting high on it