One Picture – One Story
I do not photograph the nature I see,
but what I feel when she embraces me.
but what I feel when she embraces me.
The Singing Birch
29/9/2020
(Please consider that English is not my mother tongue. Comments with approvement suggestions will be appreciated.)
Two years ago I bought a motorhome. That's one of the smartest things I've ever done. (That probably tells you that I´m not very smart.) I didn't buy a new, big and flashy one, but a cute little camper van, with some miles on it, that is just big enough to accommodate me, camera equipment and a fishing rod or two. It has everything I need; a comfortable bed, light, hot and cold water, shower and toilet, hob, fridge and efficient heating. All gas powered. But that's not the most important thing. Most importantly is that in this little man cave, or rolling hunting lodge, I get a feeling of happiness and freedom, which brings me far out of the concerns and everyday hustle and bustle and into a world of imagination that is ONLY MINE. It is when I am in this state of mind that I see nature and the surroundings as if I am in a fairytale. It is when I give nature time to come to me so she calmly can tell me HER story that I take my best pictures. When I enter and start up my motorhome I feel a wonderful ripple in my body. It´s gonna be an adventure. Even if it's just for a few hours, or a couple of days, it's still a journey. I rarely make any plans for the tour. I have an idea of which direction I will go, but that's all. I might glance at Google Maps to get some ideas for where to go, and then let the gut feeling decide. Here in Rogaland there are so many places to go. A huge variety of landscapes, and everything is only an hour or maybe two away. It's Norway's largest candy store. I'm always equipped to stay a night or two in the camper. Have everything I need regarding food and beverages. A week ago I went to an area I hadn't been before; Lyngsheia, which is located at the mountain crossing between Hjelmeland and Lysefjorden. It's totally beautiful. The mountain horizon frames numerous lakes and ponds and the trout jumped and bounced everywhere. Autumn had already begun to paint from its warm palette. And the silence was only occasionally broken by a few sheep bells in the distance and a raven calling for its life partner. And all this just a 45 minute scenic drive from the oil city of Stavanger. I grabbed the fishing rod and hung the camera over my shoulder. I had to go out. In waders. I aimed for a lake that is surrounded by marsh and small streams and rapids. It's also good to wear waders that reach all the way to my chest when I crawl around looking for the best angle and position for photography. Arriving the lake, Sandvann, I get fascinated by a tree, a fine mountain birch with two trunks that stretch in different directions. The biggest and most powerful trunk leans over the water, and the other kind of tries to hold back - as if to make sure that they both do not fall into the water. Or is it perhaps that they have grown apart - like an old couple who are tired of eachother but unable to apart? Or maybe they are like a strong and vigorous duo that stands firmly on a common platform and individually contributes with genuine energy and inspiration? Right in front of the tree grow some cheerful grass tufts that strut proudly in all the autumn colors – like a cheering crowd in party clothes. I lie down on all fours in the swamp and crawl around to find an angle that allows you to see both the enthusiastic audience and the duo stretching towards the sky and singing a beautiful serenade against the evening sky. There are no limits to what you can see and experience in nature if you just listen and let your imagination free.
2 Comments
The Friendly Fiddler
21/9/2020
Want to buy this photograph? Click herePictures are shipped world wide (Please consider that English is not my mother tongue. Comments with approvement suggestions will be appreciated.)
Venice's tourist streets were packed with people. Happy tourists enjoyed the heat from the August sun. But even though parts of this fairytale-like city are virtually impenetrable at this time of year, you´ll find liberating empty streets, squares and alleys just a few blocks away. My hotel was in such an area. I can not explain exactly where it was, because I managed to get lost several times the week I was there. I wandered around a lot in those parts of the city looking for good motives - motives not everyone else is looking to take pictures of. It was early morning the first day. I had enjoyed a lazy breakfast containing a couple of fat croissants and jam accompanied by a cup of liquid asphalt, by some called coffee. With my camera on my shoulder and a small selection of lenses in the bag, I set off. It didn´t take long before I heard a strange sound. I stopped and listened. Then I went in the direction of the sound. Just around the corner and through a narrow, picturesque alley, the city opened up and I came out into an open space. A kind of church square. Right next to an anorectic, summer-tired tree stood a man in gray trousers, a white-striped shirt and a silly hat, playing the violin. Or rather; made an attempt to play the violin. I had found the origin of the strange sound I heard. In front of me stood an elderly looking man with a violin. The melody, or whatever it might be called, was not particularly catchy. And it was repeated indefinitely. He could not play anything but this stanza. And it can be discussed whether it can be called playing. It sounded more like (“gnikking” - dinner ikke riktig oversettelse). So… how come that this man - the street musician who can not play - has become a kind of role model for me? This man, who may not have been rehearsing his violin since he was 12, and who is still (gnikker) at the melody he was trying to play at the time, stands proud and upright smiling and playing hour after hour and wishes everyone who passes by a good day. And then he hands out compliments to all the ladies. Any age. In the Italian way. “Ciao, Bella!” he says to an adorable little miss with an ostrich skirt as she beams og joy and dances carefree towards her future. This is how he stands, hour after hour, day after day - a poor street musician who can not play - and the only thing he cares about is being good to others. Wish them all the best and give them some kind words as they pass by. It stroked my mind; "I have to photograph this". But how? It must be a picture that really depicts and brings out the good and friendly in this unique man. I found a suitable angle for the photo shoot, and lined up, ready with a telephoto lens. The background had to be as anonymous and rustic as possible without disturbing elements. Just a flimsy little tree that gave a nice diagonal in the picture. Then it was just a matter of waiting for the right moment. "At some point something has to happen around this man," I said to myself. Time passed and I waited. He played his sad little tune over and over again. My hero smiled and greeted everyone even if only a few greeted back. SO, after three and a half hours, a little girl comes running towards the fiddle man and starts dancing. I was ready with the camera. The girl showed the piece of money she wanted to give him, and as they made eye contact; "PANG" - then I shot. Five exposures. One of them was a “bulls eye”. An imaginary ray of energy, compassion and childlike glow went like an invisible lightning bolt between the two. I captured the magical moment. The decisive moment. The fiddler's face does not appear, just a "potato nose" and three deep smile wrinkles that show that he radiates kindness - and has done so through a long life. He stands out like incarnated love. I wish that I, who is privileged and has everything I need - and more than that - could be just as good at giving people around me more kindness and goodness as him. It is so easy, and affordable, to give a friendly smile to a fellow passenger on the bus or a "thank you" and "have a good day" to the young Iranian at the checkout at the grocery. If I just could learn to turn my gaze more outward toward others instead of inward toward my own navel. Just like the Fiddler in Venice. |
About the BlogThis blog is dedicated to tell stories connected to my photographs. It can be everything from things that happened at the shoot, to emotional elements and facts. ArchivesKlikk her for å redigere.Klikk her for å redigere. Categories |