A shared day

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The 27th of October has since 1983 always been my sister’s birthday, but as of last year, it’s also the date of when our godfather died. I can’t think of a better photograph to embody this new duality, which I took at some point in the 90’s. My sister is watching TV in the his front room, while he stands in the kitchen, holding a lightbulb delicately in his hand. They’re together, yet apart, which I guess is a bit like how we live on with our loved ones who are no longer with us.

My godfather was a keen amateur photographer, with a great selection of cameras and lenses that he gave me while he was still alive, and I remember that on this particular roll of film I was trying out my newly gifted 17mm lens. I had never shot with a lens as wide before or afterwards, but if I remember correctly there’s not one dud on that whole roll. The wider perspective gave me new eyes and everything looked different, better.

I’ve been watching the calendar creep closer to this first anniversary with a bit of trepidation, but dipping into Thich Nhat Hanh’s “How to live when a loved one dies” yesterday really helped me feel less sad. Thanks for having been such a great part of my life dear Guffar*; I hope you can feel all of my love and gratitude somehow ❤️

* my incorrect pronunciation of gudfar (godfather in Swedish) when I was a kid

Dutch flowers on film

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When we were away this summer I decided to not bring my DSLR and only shoot on film. On my birthday we were in Amsterdam with no real plan, but after breakfast I remembered that I’ve always wanted to go to Museum Voorlinden, which is near the Hague. I hadn’t realised that the gardens were designed by Piet Oudolf, so this is where these are from. I was holding back on them with the intention of posting them in the middle of winter, for a little colour boost, but with our world so bleak at the moment, why wait?