This time, we went there in company with a bunch of other people from her work. It was sort of a photowalk combined with dinner at a castle that is located nearby. But no, it didn’t look as in the fairytales, rather as one of those mansions I’ve seen on movies from the Beverly hills. Later I learnt that it was built in the beginning of the last century, which explains it all. I didn’t honoured it a single photo, was that very impolite?

The walk went throug an area with lots of postcard views, of which I photographed quite a few. Pretty photos that are now uploaded to flickr, for everybody’s pleasure, or not.

I walked also into this scene:

A stranded boat, it has been battered by the sea until nothing else but the hull remains. Beside it, a beach ball.

The events that caused the boat and the ball to end up at this place are of course not the same. The wind will have moved the ball to another beach tomorrow, perhaps to the share joy for a new kid. The boat looked like it has been stranded there for a while. Quite probably a storm tore it loose from its anchoring. I happened to coincide when their paths met. As this scene was presented to me, my imagination went away in another direction than the logical. I tried to capture that in the composition and the later b+w processing.

This time, I photographed the games with the soft focusing Lensbaby. Not one single photo where you can see who’s actually participating. I just love it. (But the friend who asked if I got any good images of him might think otherwise). I uploaded a few of them to Flickr, as is, but processed the one below into b+w. I like the melancholic feel I get when the image is unfocused, when there is no apparent depth of field. By making it b+w, the image becomes even more suggestive, as fading memories often are. Very special, too.

This weekend is special for many Swedes, although not for me. This year, however, it was really pleasant. I had worked a lot with late nights every evening up until last Thursday, so when Friday and Midsummer eve came up I was really tired and needed to rest, probably too tired to think of everything you have to be on a traditional holiday like this. I really had a lovely weekend and am fully charged again.

I have been shooting, creatively too. It’s good to feel that it’s enjoyable again. The image above is made with the Lensbaby and the double glass. I haven’t been shooting that much with the soft focusing glass, lately. I eventually became tired of seeing everything defocused, and with the double glass you get it at least sharp in the middle. As in real life , if you think about it.

This week will be dedicated to writing, though. I will participate in a feature writing workshop. Maybe I turn into a Pulitzer award-style writer, and starts to write captivating and interesting articles that have the potential to change you lives. What do you know.

Anyway, two years ago I drove by a roadsign that warned for airplanes, by a coincidence. It stood there right along a road with fields on both sides. Airplanes passes by here, but where is that airfield? On a closer look I saw that I stood by one of the ends of the airstrip. I’d better duck if an airplane was to take off, but I saw none, not even a parked one. Just a very well-mown grass field. Via a small road to a farm, which I first thought was private, I eventually found the well hidden hangar. It stood by a few trees and it was not that obvious what type of building it was. To me, hangars have semi-cylindrical shaped roofs, this rather looked like a regular building. Except for the front doors, that said.

This was two years ago. I never saw any of the airplanes that probably had their home out there on the field. Since then, the town has moved closer and it’s been closed down and abandoned. A new road cuts the airstrip right on the middle. Still, the piece of the strip on the hangar side of the new road looks like being mown, whoever that might be doing it. The hangar has been partly de-constructed, and the previously so pretty windsock is now ripped apart by the wind. It’s like it still stands there as a monument. The cones that the pilots used for markings along the strip have been tossed under a tree. The fuel pump is no longer there, and the garden furniture that stood so you could sit down and look out on the airstrip, these are gone, too. I think this will be a missed part of Lund, for the people who spent their weekends there, maintaining and exercising their airplanes. I wonder where they flew?

It’s from last Winter, one of those mornings when the night had our car coated in a thick layer of ice, impossible to work through with the ice scraper that always seems to be the one from past year. Nothing else to do than leave the engine running and wait while the defroster slowly comes to life. Then, after having seen myself in the rear-view mirror for a few good minutes, threads of melt-water starts to work their way down the window.  When vision finally is clear enough, I can’t help feeling I don’t appreciate what I see. The defroster only worked on the window, the outside remained as is. So I stay seated a few more minutes,  looking at myself in the rear-view mirror, having no clue why everything all of a sudden feels so uninspiring. The longer I look, the more anxious I get over myself. Eventually I carry on to do what I’m supposed to.

There were many such mornings, last Winter; the Februaries, as my friend Ray so well calls them. They are long gone now, and I had actually forgotten about them. It was just this image that made me thinking. I found it embodying the feeling I have when I’m like that, and I just wanted to write it down and save it for the records.

I’ve been away for a while, away from everything that spells out Internet and present in the more tangible reality. Well, all I’ve been writing about and everything that I have been photographing, that has been real, too. This time, I’ve been busy with life and a course in graphic design that I participated in this semester. The former has perhaps not been very tangible, but it is nonetheless a reality show that is broadcast in my life annually. Not very fun, but it’s in the past now. The latter was really fun, and I learned a lot that I hope I can gain from in my profession. Now, I don’t only master Illustrator, I also know InDesign at my finger tips. Very useful. In fact, this takes me directly to SOFOBOMO.

Apparently, the SOFOBOMO window starts tomorrow!?! This came as quite a shock to me, since I though I should participate, earlier this year, at least. Well, I have not been thinking of quitting, there are still plenty of time to consider what to do, if anything at all, that is. And, as an answer to myself – yes, I’ve seen that some has started to blog on this topic, so there are definitely many that still are out there. Hardly a surprise, and I’m happy for it.

Hello, everybody!

Now, when I have been writing myself midway through this post, I realise I’ve entitled it nearly as one of my favourite photographer’s web site is called, While Standing Still. Her images have inspired me to explore colours again, although the images in this post are in b&w. Let’s see what will come out of that, and back to this post and the images.

I took them last week, an early morning while it was very foggy. I knew about this windmill and thought it would be perfect to shoot it in this light, so off I went. The time has indefinitely stopped ticking for it. It costs of course a fortune to maintain such an old mill like this. This one has probably been out of function at least the late 75 years, perhaps more than a hundreds, so the economical rationales to keep it standing are about….none. While people probably would be willing to pay 10 millions (divide by 7 to get a figure in US Dollars) for a house with a picturesque mill on the property, right here in Lund, this one is located a few kilometres outside, far too long away to attract those who have that kind of money. So, the decay is inevitable. It will only stand a few more years, as it looked like now. Large parts of it had already fallen down to ground and started to become one with Mother Earth. As life in the large, I guess.

Om jag kisar lite
Målar med mjuk, vit pensel
Ser jag ett sandslott