Photographs are full of contradictions. Through photography the world is transformed into pictures descriptive and distorted, undisguised and artificial. The motive is clear – but also transformed into something else. The borderland between realistic and abstract contains passages into inner landscapes. Pictures creating associations to something else than what is depicted on them, a hybrid between reality and fantasy. The mind can rest when not clearly perceiving what the images depict.
Pictures do not tell everything at once; they give a feeling that there is more, something intangible beyond the representation.

The straws I photographed a rainy day in October reminds me of summer, lying in a sunny mead, a breeze against my skin. This image is stronger than the memory of the actual moment when I took the pictures.

I am startled when reality does not look the way I expect it to. To be here and now, awareness, focusing my senses, a break from rigid thoughts. The camera helps me appreciate the small joys in life. Taking photographs breaks up my routine-like way of looking, is an antidote against drabness. There is something liberating about taking a fragment out of its context. I discover diversity in what is seemingly unimpressive, unexciting and trivial, the exotic and the beautiful in the mundane everyday life. Magic moments; a flower closing its petals at dusk, a streak of sunshine on a leaf bud about to blossom, a cascade of raindrops shimmering in a bush.

A reminiscence of how I looked at the world as a child. Unreal reality.