While watering the garden last night, I asked Charlotte to capture a few seconds of me in slow motion. I’ve been planning a longer watering video for about a year, but just haven’t gotten around to it. So, see this as a teaser.
Today is Mother’s Day here in Sweden, so this is my mother four years before I was born on a game show hosted by none other than comedian Groucho Marx.
I can’t remember any part of my childhood or have any recollection of my mother that would make her worthy of celebrating today. Which is sad on several levels.
Truth be told, I would have loved to love and be loved by her. And even if I know in my heart of hearts that my mother loved me, at least instinctively, as most mothers love their offspring (regardless of species), my memories of our relationship are to this very day so painful that I can only imagine such love and not feel it where it counts.
My mother’s mother, on the other hand, my grandmother Agnes (Elle’s namesake), was an amazing woman and incredibly impactful during my early, formative years while I was visiting her and grandfather Eskil in Trollhättan, Sweden. So, it’s her and Charlotte, who is also an amazing mother, that I’ll celebrate today.
Another reason to celebrate this day is that my father’s old buddy and friend of the family, Fred Nicholas, turns an astonishingly impressive 101 today. He’s celebrating with his family in Los Angeles and if it hadn’t been for this prolonged pandemic, we’d be there too.
Shot this last weekend during an evening walk around the harbor of the coastal town of Grebbestad in southwestern Sweden. I was intrigued by the half dozen or so trawlers and commercial fishing vessels across the bay from where the leisure boats were anchored. I don’t know why, but there’s something inspiring about fishing boats and the whole fisherman scene.
Last night, ahead of our allocated time slots, Charlotte and I got our Pfizer/Biontechs mRNA-vaccine shots. The process was as smooth as the jabs were painless. Incidentally, the vaccine location was at an old military (Swedish airforce) base.
I don’t see how this vaccination should be treated any differently than other viral diseases I’ve been inoculated against in the past. The fact that it took a considerably shorter time to develop isn’t a miracle. It’s quintessentially a combo of new technology (mRNA), more resources for larger/faster trials and less bureaucracy
The next jab is July 7.
Fired unceremoniously by the New York Times for a stupid comment he made on a field trip, one of my favorite reporters, Donald G. McNeil Jr., has a really thoughtful and insightful take about the reality of this pandemic over at his new home on Medium.
Here’s a short film produced for Ängelholm Näringsliv AB to showcase just a few of all the activities available for families visiting the city and its beautiful surroundings. Produced last fall but published now as part of the company’s spring marketing mix. Of the five films I was commissioned to create, this is my favorite.
Well, dear reader, it’s been about a week since my last post. What can I say? I’ve been busy. Busy with a bunch of stuff, like editing this short film about life here in beautiful Vejbystrand.
I shot most of the footage during the pandemic, but some scenes are from a while before this mess started.
Like with writing, editing film is about reduction. Trimming, cropping, shaping. Boiling down a story to the most essential, the nitty-gritty you want to say or show. I enjoy the process, but it takes time and patience. At some point you just have to let go and allow your work to breathe and live on its own, i.e. share it publicly. Like here.
Remember Jaco Pastorius? I’ve been a fan of the band Weather Report for decades. So, when an old buddy sent a link to this live concert earlier today, I was once again reminded of how awesome their live gigs were. The venue is the Montreux Jazz Festival 1976, where I, incidentally, seven years later in 1983, stood below the very same stage where Jaco Pastorius played his seductively reductive baselines, listening to the then-popular bands Musical Youth and King Sunny Ade.
Earlier this year, we bought a bird feeder and a big batch of sunflower seeds to fill it with. Before it arrived and during much of the cold winter, I hand-fed our two most persistent blackbirds, BBOne and BBTwo every day. It got to the point that BBOne got so comfortable with my company, that he on a few occasions even walked in through our front door and ventured all the way to the living room carpet. Haven’t seen him in a while, though. Perhaps he’s started a family. I hope so.
Anyway, I’ve been meaning to capture a few moments of the birds that frequent the feeder. Here they are. No idea what kind of birds they are, however. More of my birds can be found here.
I found this mask lying on the ground during one of last week’s walks. I wondered if it had been dropped by mistake or discarded purposely.
Some people seem to be so fed up with the pandemic that they embrace all kinds of conspiracy theories. Whether or not they believe in the science, those folks need to ask themselves the singular question; in what way are the immunologists, virologists, and other healthcare professionals profiting from keeping the pandemic “alive”?
I can totally see how “big pharma” would want us all to get inoculated from the coronavirus, preferably encouraging everyone to have a booster dose injected every year. That makes perfect business sense.
I can appreciate all the sacrifices so many billions of people have to make even though “only” 10% of the population gets seriously ill. But how could we possibly accept this cynical stance and just keep on going as if those that got sick didn’t matter – just as long it didn’t affect our daily lives?
I think many of those subscribing to the various conspiracy theories about the virus are just about as lost and tired as the above-used mask.
As can clearly be seen, these shoes are made for walking. I found the above old scuffed Clark’s a few weeks ago and remembered how wonderful it was to walk in them. I don’t have a difficult time finding comfortable shoes. My feet are still relatively easy to please, despite recent bouts with arthritic pain.
Many years ago, I had a pair of Sebago Docksides that I’d worn throughout travels across South East Asia. At some point, I decided to leave them in a place I often stayed at when in Bangkok, the C & C Guest House in the Banglampoo district near Chao Phraya River, not too far from Khao San Road.
One of the owners, a sweet lady named Nit, promised to store my old shoes until the next time I returned. I never made it back to the new C & C before they closed (the old one burned down after a fire that killed several staff and guests), but a Swedish friend of mine did and brought my tired old Docksides back to me in Sweden. Eventually, I integrated them into a sculpture at art school in Visby, Gotland sometime in 1992.
I tend to stick to a few choice shoe brands; Red Wing, Clark’s, Salomon, and Nike. I wonder how many pairs of shoes I’ve gone through in the course of my lifetime? Two pairs a year would mean I’ve walked in a bit over 100 pairs of shoes so far. That’s a lot of shoes and a lot of mileage.
Machine Learning is both fascinating and frightening. From what I understand, it’s quintessentially a subset of artificial intelligence and a method of data analysis that automates analytical model building via dynamic algorithms.
According to Wikipedia, Machine Learning (ML) can be used for a bunch of stuff, including software design, medical diagnostics, autonomous vehicles, and streaming services. While a traditional software program is limited by the inherent rigidity of a finite amount of program code, a computer equipped with machine learning software can educate itself from exposure to new data and new experiences.
It seems likely that ultimately, humans will become redundant when conceiving software of the future – and eventually, thru machine learning, computers will be designing and manufacturing hardware as well. Automatically.
We humans have been possessed with automation for centuries. I am curious about where all this automation will eventually lead us as a species?
I saw these anachronistic circuit breakers, switches, and utility boxes yesterday while walking around the old industrial area called Västra Hamnen in Malmö. The evidence of the area’s manufacturing past is slowly being removed, replaced, distanced. I get it.
My first studio in Malmö was in the vicinity of the above wall, on Neptunigatan.
A few years ago, I suggested to the Danish women in charge of the development of the new neighborhood, aka Varvstaden, that a small museum be established to provide locals and visitors alike with at least some clues of the city’s industrial past where cargo ships, trains, submarines, and wind turbines were built, mostly by hand.
Shot this pink super moon yesterday morning just before 5:00 a.m. Charlotte was standing in front of the bedroom window to take a photo. I got up too and instantly knew that I’d have to capture the pink super moon with a much bigger lens than what my three-year-old phone provides. I took about a half dozen handheld at ISO 800/250/s at f4,5 and this was one of the keepers.
A lifesaver. A wall. A ladder. Behind me water and above me, the sky. Something about this composition intrigued me when I walked by it the other day during a morning stroll around Malmö’s northern harbor area, near Saltimporten.
I don’t usually remember how I was feeling on an emotional level when I photograph a place or a person. I’m certainly focused and involved creatively – as well as technically. But I clearly remember how I was feeling when I documented this relatively unremarkable (yet therefore interesting) wall because I was talking to an old friend at the time of discovery
The conversation was unusually deep and sincere. We quickly moved past the polite platitudes and sharing of recent accomplishments and vague travel plans. It was just two middle age men talking about life and its struggles and rewards.
Is using elements or symbols like in the above collage really cultural appropriation? Wikipedia’s definition of cultural appropriation is the adoption of an element or elements of one culture or identity by members of another culture or identity. This can be controversial when members of a dominant culture appropriate from disadvantaged minority cultures.
The collage above consists of two images. The one with Chinese symbols is from a hotel in Göteborg where a chest of drawers dating back from the East India Company was part of the decor. The other photograph is of an apartment building complex, also from Göteborg.
I was struck by the thought of how goods and foods from China used to be exclusive and exotic and how today, so much of our everyday things are manufactured there. My point is that while most of the products imported from China are designed elsewhere, they are nonetheless Chinese by definition. So, is it cultural appropriation when millions of homes in China are filled with western products even if they were made in a multitude of factories in there? Is China still at such a disadvantage that adopting a set of symbols would be, could be, considered cultural appropriation? Is using the ancient Chinese exercise Qigong even appropriate?
I miss diving. The weightlessness, The sound of bubbles. The sight of colorful, curious fish and sea mammals. The camaraderie when you dive in a group. I miss traveling to places where scuba diving is readily available, the sea is warm and welcoming. I long to revisit the Red Sea, the Andaman, and the Pacific Ocean.
Learning and subsequently teaching Qigong has been a game-changer for me. My approach is disruptive. Heck, my entire life has been disruptive. I know no other way of being or living. To me, Qigong isn’t mysterious. It isn’t an over-reaching religion or even a lifestyle. It’s a low-impact way of getting exercise that positively impacts the body’s circulation and ability to provide a sense of well-being. In addition, Qigong will help flush out harmful hormones (cortisol). I also experience that through Qigong, I have better concentration and a healthier, more creative mindset. All this without breaking a sweat. How can you not want to do that?
Charlotte shot this in Malaga early 2020.
Apparently, right now many are suffering from languishing. Which I don’t find all that strange, considering how molasses-slow things have been for over a year and the financial, emotional, and spiritual predicament so many billions of people find themselves in. I don’t feel like I am languishing. I am suffering from some level of chronic uncertainty. Uncertainty about the future and how this pandemic will play out in a year, two, or three. But mostly, I feel lucky to have art and Qigong to fill my time. And family.
From yesterday evening where calm and tranquility prevailed against crisis and calamity. There was only me, the sea, and another beautiful sunset. Shot with my nearly 2-year-old phone in 4k at 60fps while I was lying on an old yoga mat.
Here’s a scene from yesterday’s excursion to Ven. Surprisingly, of all the islands I’ve visited and lived on over the years, the picturesque Ven never came up on our radar screen. I mean, we knew of it and at some point realized a visit was going to happen. Ven is perhaps too close to home. Not “exotic” enough.
In addition to experiencing the island off-season (arguably the best time to do this as hoards of tourists seem to overwhelm Ven during the summer months), we also met up with a couple of friends that run a small restaurant there. I saw this scene nearby their place, Pausa Hos Oss på Ven.
Here’s an old door that caught my attention in Haifa during a press trip there a few years ago. I felt prompted to document it while the rest of the group moved on – so I was lost for a few minutes afterwards. The turquoise color, its shape and symbolism was just too hard to resist.
Late afternoon a few days ago, Charlotte and I enjoyed what could possibly have been the best pizza in all of southern Sweden. We were curious to see how designer and photographer Johan Lindeberg’s cooperation with the owners of Torekov Pizzeria had played out.
I don’t know if I’ve ordered a pizza straight off the menu in this part of Sweden. Back in the day, when I was living in Gotland and DJing at Burmeister in Visby, they served an incredibly yummy pizza with Parma ham, sun-dried tomatoes, Kalamata olives, and Mozzarella cheese. It was perfectly spiced and I missed nothing on it. So, obviously, that fond pizza memory is the recipe I benchmark against. Ever since I tend to add and subtract from the standard Swedish pizza menus in order to at least get as close as possible.
Fortunately, the owner of Torekov Pizzeria, Yakan Selim, obliged my request for a tailor-made pizza and it tasted damn close to the one I remember enjoying so many times at Burmeister.
“Bur” was both my workplace and preferred hangout on my off-days in the summer of 1992. Bacillen, Einar, Pierre, and a few others would usually meet up there for a pizza before heading into the Vietnam War-themed Saigon, possibly the coolest bar I’ve ever guested (and had my own key to).
I’ve never been to Napoli and have therefore yet to experience what an original Margarita tastes like, but it’s definitely something that’s on my list for 2021.
Here’s a new piece for the Resurfaced series. I don’t do much political art, but this project felt important somehow. If not to you, at least to me right now.
Sometimes I feel like a hostage. A victim of hijackers or kidnappers where the culprits are the established media. I don’t think I have an unhealthy ingestion level, but what I do listen to and read, tends to put a large emphasis on two main headline topics: the pandemic and the climate. I find this to be even more true now that Trump is off-center stage.
Granted, both are extraordinarily important issues, regardless of whether or not you believe in all or just some of what the media broadcasts 24/7. If you don’t believe in either, well, there you go.
Like the next guy, I am easily seduced or hypnotized by big fat headlines. And so, I often forget that the media’s business model is fundamentally about generating engagement – just like Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, TikTok, Snapchat, Google, and every other social media outlet out there. The more eyeballs they attract, the more advertising money they rake in.
This piece stems from a visit to an abandoned workshop or factory somewhere. The photo doesn’t have a GPS tag…and neither does my memory. It’s another installment in my Resurfaced series.
I am continuously fascinated by these rough, unfiltered industrial environs and how often I discover mesmerizing readymade shapes there.
I’m increasingly cognizant of how the rational work of architects, engineers, and technicians – unintentionally or, perhaps subconsciously – can often add something more than just the obvious functionality; an aesthetic dimension.
There’s something liberating about not at all knowing or, even caring, what purpose an old pipe like the one above had, what fluid(s) flowed within, and what the residue still lining its inner chamber consists of.
The vast complexities of industrialization are hard for me to comprehend. I’m trying to grasp this in order to better understand how difficult it is to make significant changes to improve the planet’s health.
When I saw the container ship stuck in the Suez Canal the other week, it reminded me of how complex a world we have built for ourselves. It’s both frightening and fascinating. Not entirely different from the ongoing pandemic.
A list of the products within the 18,300 containers stacked on the Evergreen Marine would have likely had a Made in China tag.
There must be an abundance of abandoned factories there…
Here’s a bold statement coming from 57-year-old likely suffering from delusions of grandeur: I believe my most significant artistic contribution has yet to be created. Brash as it may be, it is nonetheless a mantra that keeps my creative fire burning. The great mystery is in what shape this artistic contribution will take and if it will be a participatory, collaborative venture or a singular artistic expression. Perhaps a combo. Until I figure out or arrive at a conclusion as to how this will manifest itself, I’ll continue to execute creative ideas that appear more or less randomly on my radar screen and drawing board.
Here’s a collection of illustrations themed on Vejbystrand and inspired by travel posters from the 1930s. After bouncing around the idea or concept for the illustrations for a few years, last fall, I decided to use 10 of my favorite photographs from the village as the basis for the project. They are now printed and on display at Strandhugget, our local restaurant here in Vejbystrand.
Once in a blue moon, something other than an old movie catches my attention while randomly scrolling on Netflix’s site. A few days ago, I came across a miniseries called The Serpent. The series has an intriguing plot, it’s beautifully shot, has good acting, and really groovy music from the 1970s. Best of all, it takes place in Southeast Asia, primarily in the Thai capital Bangkok. Highly recommend giving it a watch, especially if you, like me, traveled around Asia in the 1980s and came across dubious “gemstone agents” and other shady characters while crisscrossing the continent carefree with a small stack of traveler’s checks in your money pouch and the yellow bible, South East Asia On A Shoestring in your hand.
Like most westerners that sought out adventure and something different culturally, especially after having done the Eurail or Interrail thing, Khao San Road in Bangkok was the “hub” that we passed through at some point or another. After roughing it in India, Indonesia or Nepal, this a westernized version of the Orient – where you could stock up on just about anything you needed: food, clothes, visas, fake ID cards, tattoos, and knickknacks to send home. You could also make (CCP) phone calls here and the post office wasn’t too far away.
My first time on Khao San I stayed in a room at a guest house with wafer-thin walls and a shared shower for about $1/night including a banana pancake and coffee breakfast. There were a lot of travel agents on Khao San and if you weren’t into Bangkok’s many tourist attractions, you could stay put in the area until it was time to leave for the next adventure north, south, east, or west. I usually chilled out three or four nights before getting tired of the crowds and nagging tailors and pushing onwards.
The shot above was taken sometime in the mid-2000s when I was on Khao San Road to research for yet another travel story about the area’s (in)famous backpacker scene.
Shot the Hong Kong night skyline for a travel magazine a while back. It was my second visit to the former British colony yet I was still taken aback by the city’s intensity and variety.
I think I shot this with a Canon 1D Mk III or a 5D Mk II mounted on a Gitzo Exact Mountaineer tripod, which I to this day consider part of my go-to tools for serious projects. It’s lightweight, sturdy and reasonably fast to extend.
Another Easter begins. The above piece, “Herman’s Pseudonym (Mark I)”, refers to a Qigong instructor I was taught by a few years ago named Herman. He was good, but I found it peculiar that he demanded to be called “teacher”, like a pseudonym. I haven’t called anyone teacher since middle school and don’t understand why using his given name Herman could have rendered my impression of his teachings any differently.
Still way too much mysticism and cure-all fairy dust spread by Qigong “masters”. At its core, Qigong is basically a series of movements and poses which improve the circulatory flow of blood oxygen, and joint fluids.
While the Oxford-Astra Zeneca vaccine kerfuffle continues to unfold, there’s still no solid news on when and where inoculations will be offered for my age group in this part of Sweden. Very confusing. I wouldn’t mind flying over to New York or even L.A. just to get my jabs.
I’ve been exposed (but not completely unshielded) to potential infections for more than a year without getting sick. I did have a few days with some respiratory issues last summer. But as it was the only potential symptom from the virus, I didn’t feel inclined to get tested. Later, in early fall, Charlotte and I tested negative for antibodies. Go figure.
I’ll continue to be careful, but the pandemic is becoming increasingly strenuous.
In my childhood house on Alfred Street in Los Angeles, the walls were covered by literally hundreds of paintings. Far from all, but many had religious motifs and were often dark, gloomy portraits of Jesus in various stages of crucifixion. The artworks in our home had been collected by my father during his tumultuous gallery years and when he abandoned the family in 1969, these dreary paintings loomed on our walls for many years to come. Unsellable and obviously a painful reminder of my parent’s relatively short-lived marriage and its dramatic dissolve.
I mention this as it might explain why I am so much in love with colorful, nonfigurative, and semi-abstract motifs in my own artwork.
A collage of photographs from a traditional wedding, a shopping street, and a Buddhist shrine in Tokyo. Japan is high on my list of places I’d like to return to once travel is possible again.
By far my all-around favorite country, Sweden is nonetheless also home to really imaginitive passive-aggressiveness. This collage is dedicated to all of us that often forget to put that little plastic separator on the conveyer belt between our food and the customer waiting behind us at the local grocery store. The condescending, authoritative look you get – often with a snarky smile – as he or she evenhandedly places the separator at just the right distance to your last item, is priceless. Would make for a great exhibit idea.
Brain fog. Long covid. Quattro Stagioni. Kim Jong-un. Musk’s exodus to Mars. Arthritis. Superficiality.
There are so many things I still don’t understand. Especially Quattro Stagioni. How can you mix four kinds of cheese together on a pizza and still expect to be taken seriously?
But on a more serious note, how can NK’s supreme leader, Kim Jong-un, clearly a textbook megalomaniac with official joviality, be allowed to govern over so many millions of people and be given inherited access to a military arsenal which could easily annihilate most of South Korea and possibly even Japan and the US?
Then there is art.
This new piece bears the title “Unknown” because I wanted it to symbolize my embrace of the process in which it was created. I seldom know beforehand how anything I do is going to turn out. I don’t pre-visualize what the end result of what I write, film or photograph will be. I might have a rough clue or expectation, but mostly, when I’m finished, it’s an intuitive feeling, a voice (or, a deadline), that tells me I can’t take the process any further.
By accepting and enthusiastically welcoming the unknown, the puzzle, maze or riddle never gets boring.
Society is too focused on predictions.
Where is the UN?
If there is any tangible benefit from our endless traveling for the last 25 years, it’s feeling sincere empathy for the people we’ve met around the world, especially when they are in trouble.
The nature of war is to slaughter. Alas, the nature of the soldier is to unequivocally obey the orders of his or her superiors. But it is a learned nature, not a natural one. Emotions are systematically amputated. through threats of physical and mental reprimand and punishment.
Only once such obedience has been instilled can soldiers beat and execute civilians without remorse or regret. All they have to do is wave the flag of duty and obedience. No different from any other era in human history. We have not evolved much, despite high-flying thoughts of ourselves and our in essence superficial accomplishments.
These skulls were captured near a place in Cambodia called “the killing fields” where millions of people were murdered during the brutal regime of Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge. I’ve published this image before, but when I saw it just now, it reminded me of a quote I like to recite. The image illustrates it perfectly:
I believe in life before death.
Now, does this mean I don’t believe in life after death? Or, just that whatever happens to us after we die should in no way be confused or conflated with what being alive is like? I haven’t given it much thought.
The quote was “given” to me by an old friend and whenever I’m at a crossroads or ambiguous about taking “a plunge”, I try to remember his quote.