I find myself increasingly enthused about abstract photography, primarily because of the challenge it presents in letting go of compositional rules and aesthetic boundaries. This process is exhilarating; it pushes me to explore beyond the conventional and delve into a realm of pure creativity. Just like in abstract painting and fiction writing, there’s a thrilling sense of freedom and unpredictability involved in this new “Enigmative” series.

Each click of the shutter button is like a portal into the unknown, where colors, shapes, and textures intertwine in totally unexpected ways. Not only is my artistic elasticity put to the test, but the process also allows me to express emotions and invite unconventional ideas in a way that’s unrestricted by the rigid frameworks of traditional landscape, architectural, and portrait photography. Not that I can’t find enjoyment in these genres of photography, but being able to let go and be independent of the typical subject matters that “demand” to be captured and inherently need some technical considerations before being immortalized, is wonderfully liberating.

So for the time being, I’ll be calling the new art project “Enigmative” which is made up word from a concoction or amalgamation of the words enigmatic and imaginative. I’m enjoying the discovery phase of this new series. The haphazard nature of the process and the outcome’s unpredictability make each new long, handheld exposure exciting to view once the camera’s done rendering. Colors, shapes, and composition are always front and center, but now each image in the series must also represent a mere abstraction of the motif used to create it to even qualify for consideration.

Captured this in one of the most beautiful cities I’ve been lucky to have visited a couple of times, Porto, Portugal. As someone who has traveled extensively for decades, I find a kindred spirit in the late Anthony Bourdain, whose life and travels were poignantly captured in the documentary “Roadrunner”. I recently rewatched it as it not only highlighted Bourdain’s zeal for exploration, it also unveiled his labyrinthian pursuit of sustainable happiness, something I can easily relate to.

Like Bourdain, my journeys are also marked by an appreciation for taking part in the simplicity of everyday life and the serendipitous connections I make with people wherever I travel.

A cliché for sure, but traveling is a way of life. It’s an addiction to newness, challenges, and an unsatiable quest for meaning and understanding of the human experience. And yes, sometimes, traveling is nothing more than a fleeting remedy for boredom and inner restlessness.

As sad as Bourdain’s life ended, to me, the documentary’s takeaway is nevertheless a poignant explainer of the deeper, more intricate reasons behind chronic wanderlust. It’s a tale of a relentless search for connection and peace, a narrative that resonates with me and many others who find some weird kind of soul-soothing solace in the ever-changing milieus that our travels provide.

I don’t know exactly why, perhaps it’s the book about aging I’m working on that’s making me think about relationships and the shared history I have with so many people I’ve met and gotten to know throughout my life. I haven’t even tried counting, but at 60, it’s got to be a significant number of relationships of varying length and depth. Some were only hours long while others have lasted multiple decades. I reunited with one of my oldest friends from L.A. just last summer.

What makes these thoughts so interesting to me is that most of all of these relationships began with great enthusiasm and assertiveness that we’d always be friends and always keep in touch. This mindset was especially true in my younger years when it seemed so much easier to make new friends. I suppose with age, we become anxious, overly cautious, and guarded when a serendipitous opportunity to get to know someone new arrives at our doorstep.

Or, maybe as we age, we just don’t have time in our lives for new, superficial friendships that don’t appear to add something substantially positive to our journey.

The other evening at dinner, Charlotte and I talked about creating some kind of timeline to visualize our many travels and adventures. Thankfully, I’ve always maintained my photography and film archives and kept them organized and properly backed up (onsite and offsite). All of my trips are neatly sorted, stacked, and structured by continent, country, city, and year. And since the vast majority of all images are in a RAW file format (with EXIF date baked into each file), I can easily trace the month, date, and time of each exposure as well. So, one day, I’ll be able to create a timeline illustrated with my photographs that date back as far as at least late 1996.

I’m currently plowing my way through images I’ve got archived from 22 years of living in Malmö’s Västra Hamnen district. I’m doing this for a brand new 200+ page coffee table book with a curated, créme-de-la-créme collection of photographs from this ever-evolving, increasingly sprawling neighborhood.

It was while going through the year 2013 that I stumbled onto this fine feather friend.

#aging #friendship #thejourney

I saw this terrific Magnum exhibition last week at the bullfighting arena in Malaga and it reminded me of how much I used to love editorial photography and serendipitously captured street scenes.

I’m still figuring out this “Abstractica” concept and if it’s something I want to pursue and investigate on a deeper level. The above image was created one evening during the Three King weekend celebration in Spain.

Captured this a while back while on a long walk along our nearest beach, Ribersborgsstrand. I would love for a huge snow dump to arrive and that it stayed until mid-March, as it did back in 2012. As long as it’s consistently cold, I’m okay with winters down here in the south of Sweden. It’s the inconsistency, the soul-crushing rain, cold, snow, slush, and bone-chilling wind that eventually gets to me.

While in Spain and when not writing, I’ve been creating a series of abstract images using a fixed lens (35mm) camera which I’ve alternatively set to either one second’s exposure and “Bulb” exposure. “Bulb” predates the invention of flash photography and with this setting, as long as I press the shutter button, the shutter is kept open. To prevent overexposure (when too much light comes through the lens), I use a so-called Neutral Density filter that darkens the lens and allows for longer exposures, even when the light source is strong and intense. Such as with the above image which I captured during a sunset a few days ago. Instead of securing the camera on a tripod or increasing its sensitivity, abstract photography is all about embracing serendipity and allowing movement and shakes to “paint” an interesting image using the subject itself as a canvas.

It took only a few hours walking around in Nerja for me to grasp how beautiful the city is. The afternoon light is just spectacular. Nerja is definitely up there with seaside towns like Ericeira (Portugal) and Ibiza Old Town. Shot this scene last night.

In retrospect, 2023 turned out to be yet another incredibly creative year. Four books, two exhibits, one pop-up gallery and about 12 new paintings. So I shouldn’t be too hard on myself.

Still, I didn’t feel like I was able to strike the right balance between being creative and sharing my creativity. What I am trying to say is that I spent a bit too much time creating stuff so that I could share it online instead of working on more substantive projects, like writing and painting.

What I shared on Facebook, Instagram, and WhatsApp certainly did have value and I might integrate some of what I filmed, painted, and photographed throughout the year further down the road, in an exhibit or a book project.

But the engine, the driving force and my MO was still often just to feed the endlessly scrolling news feed. Not good. I recognize now that I will have to cut back, retreat, and seclude myself to get the really challenging and fulfilling stuff done. Traveling again soon. Mostly inwardly, but also toward the sun. Not far from where the above scene was captured.