I can’t explain it, but for some reason, like most boys and men, I have a fascination with just about anything that has a motor and moves. Is it the soothing soundscape a car evokes while idling or the loudness from a revving motorcycle? Or, is it the high-pitched frequencies of a jet engine during landing and takeoff that create the almost hypnotic allure?

Maybe, just maybe, it’s genetic. Perhaps men are programmed to find loud noises intriguing somehow. That we get some kind of hormonal reward from confronting (and mastering) the mechanical beast.

Once again in Stockholm to work on the Resurfaced project, meet friends and reunite with my cousins. For once, I’m not staying at a hotel in the capital as one of my oldest friends here is traveling abroad and very generously provided her apartment in the cozy Söder neighborhood.

The ride up from Malmö was relatively smooth. I sat with my back towards the direction of the train – which was fine – and enjoyed viewing all the lush summer landscapes swishing by.

Here’s an abandoned house somewhere on the outskirts of Sorrento along the Amalfi Coast in Italy. I’ve collected some of my images from that visit over at www.raboffphotography.com/amalfi-coast

As a younger artist, whenever I honestly and seriously delved into a creative project, almost any kind of exhibition project, and then discovered how much I enjoyed working on it no matter how long it took to complete, I would typically find it hard to understand how anyone could possibly think otherwise. Some might call this obsessive, borderline narcissistic behavior, and maybe it is. But art is demanding and if you aren’t fully immersed and don’t believe what you’re working on is the most important thing in your life, I wonder if what you produce is actually worth working on in the first place.

Honest art, as opposed to decorative art, is demanding, ruthless, and usually misunderstood.

While the passion wasn’t exactly overpowering, I remember often feeling an intoxicating surge of happiness that made me want to share the discovery and the ensuing enthusiasm with anybody willing to listen to me.

In retrospect, I realize that it might as well have been my enthusiasm rather than the creative output that generated the positive feedback. I’ve spoken at some length with fellow artists about this phenomenon which is in some distant way related to subliminally creating hysteria. Enthusiasm is undeniably smiting and I am just as guilty as anyone else for getting excited about the excitement rather than the work it has exuded.

My ongoing “Resurfaced” series is a great example of this occurrence. I honestly don’t think most people really get the concept but are nonetheless thrilled to be smitten by my enthusiasm for it. This might be a reflection of how little enthusiasm they have in their lives, but that’s a whole different topic for another post.

The pursuit for new artifacts for the Resurfaced series is unwavering, regardless of how commercially viable the project turns out to be. The voice of reason has long left the building. And creatively, that’s a good thing.

The piece above is from a wall in the Saint Pauli district of Hamburg, Germany.

Charlotte and I counted that all-in-all, so far, we’ve attended 9 weddings. That’s including our own. This snapshot is from Saturday’s fairytale wedding outside of Saint Alban’s Church in Copenhagen where my cousin Per’s son Hugo and his lovely Christina were married. It was a most beautiful day full of sunshine and love.

That so many flag-waving Americans hold the Second Amendment so dearly to their heart is really hard for me to grasp. It’s Second Amendment insanity if you ask me. The Bill of Rights amendment was ratified in 1791, a long, long time ago when bears, mountain lions, and outlaws were omnipresent. It was an era when being an owner of slaves and a misogynist were both acceptable and admired behavior. It was over 200 fucking years ago.

I totally understand that the Second Amendment has been weaponized politically. It’s all about belonging to the movement. And that the masses that don’t understand why automatic rifles and military-grade weapons should not be so readily available to them simply don’t have the capacity to look beyond their mental rigidity. Well, I get that, too.

The federal legislators in D.C. need to be reminded of how the regulations put in place within the automotive industry – from seatbelts, and airbags to speed limits – have literally saved millions of lives.

Whenever I read or hear about the idiots that insist on being able to stock up on AK-47s, mostly out of principle, I think of this wonderfully poignant sketch.

Speaking of the Salton Sea, here’s a new composition themed on climate which is something I actually think heavy-heartedly about from time to time. The main photo with the washed ashore motorboat was captured somewhere near Bombay Beach while the hurricane in the background was created for dramatic effect.

#climatechange #hurricaneseason #environment #composition

Took the train to Ängelholm yesterday afternoon and so many of the landscapes we passed along the way had blooming canola fields. I like this time of year here in the “deep south” with all these bright yellow flowers under a beautiful blue sky. It’s so surreal that just looking at them makes me feel hopeful. 

From my series of images from the fuming, greasy, and always interesting Talat Noi in Bangkok, Thailand. At some point, I intend to exhibit a selection of these images and film sequences that I’ve shot almost every time I’ve ever been there.