Welcome to my journey, the photographic.
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An excursion with the camera as travel company, constantly curious about new views, new finds.
For that reason, it feels when the journey is against undecided goals. In worst case, I drive after the map, but usually only by chance because that’s when I find it right. So right now right can be …
To photograph is an interest that followed me as long as I can remember. Early memories are the family’s slide shows in the basement and Dad’s Voigtländer, which I tried to sneak. It laid like a treasure in one of his deskdrawers. Or those moments on the couch at my grandmothers house when I got to browse all yearly editions of National Geographics or in a collection volume of Ansel Adams. That puts its mark.
One day I felt ready. I was 16 and had saved enough money to buy my first real camera, used, but still a system camera, yes, one with interchangeable lens. It cost 995, I still have the reciept, but I could not afford a few more lenses, but now the possibilities was waiting round the corner! What a feeling!
The years has passed and the first camera has retired and has been exchanged several times, but has now been placed behind glass and frame where it is now in my display cabinet among various other “fine things”.
Having said that, it must end the nostalgic story about me. Now, instead, take on the real story. The story of the journey in the border country. There between the light and the dark there are leftovers of the forgotten. It is an evasive landscape in change with buildings built with labor and care, once crowded inhabited, then left by someone, forgotten and missed by none. Or?
Rolf Johnson, Sunne / Ed