Tag: exploration

Green shimmering endings

On the Road, Uncategorized, Writing August 19, 2016

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It was our last night, we had just devoured a delicious dinner of seafood accompanied by a nice glass of wine and were hanging back in our chairs to give our bellies some space when I looked outside and noticed the stars. What if?

For a moment I hesitated but then decided to look it up regardless, we only had a few hours before our flight would leave but hell, it wasn’t as if we’d be back soon. I grabbed my phone from deep down in my bag and connected to the restaurant’s wifi. It was a clear night, I didn’t need a website to tell me that, but what I didn’t know was if there was any chance of seeing the northern lights tonight. So I opened the tab which I had kept ready for weeks and there it was. 90 percent chance.

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Jonathan Moyal and restless nostalgia

interview, Uncategorized July 20, 2016

French-born photographer Jonathan Moyal’s world contains dark and foggy scenes, women with long hair and a longing for a time he can not return to. Travel plays an important part in his work but it is not the main story, it is more about finding what was lost, a sense of freedom we only seem to experience as a child, without mortgages and bills hovering over our heads. Jonathan takes us back to the time where he and his brother roamed islands and immersed themselves in the beauty of mother nature. Curious about these journeys, we spoke to the young photographer.

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The Ardennes part 2 of 2

Uncategorized, Writing July 18, 2016

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I’m sitting on a hunter’s platform overlooking a valley. Right in the middle of it I can see what I think is the outskirt of La Roche. A river twists and bends its way through the city and then the trees and I imagine myself walking there only a few hours before. The signage hadn’t been very clear to me and I’d felt utterly lost, after a few confused looks at the map I’d picked up earlier I’d mustered my best french and asked a local man if I was going the right way. Yes, he said, and he said it with so much confidence I had trusted him entirely. A little further down the road, I’d asked another group of locals again and they had said yes with perhaps even more confidence than the first. It was probably because of that, that it took a little while before I found out, but I found out soon enough to eventually find my way looking around and behind trees and signposts. They had sent me the wrong way, I guess it’s just the tourists walking these routes and not the locals. It didn’t really matter, though, the tracks and climbs and views were just as beautiful. It was just a little harder to navigate, walking a different route from the one I’d planned in the opposite direction.

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The Ardennes part 1 of 2

Uncategorized, Writing July 18, 2016

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I can’t find my pen, it’s gotten dark now, but it’s ok, a pencil will write the same words. The colours of the world have changed so much in the last few hours. I didn’t even notice, I was lost in another world, flipping the pages of my book until it got hard for me to read the words. The sun had set without me noticing and with it slowly the light had disappeared. I looked up in utter astonishment, and when I did my breath was taken away. Water drops and layers of dew and steam fogged the windows. Obscuring what was outside, covering the world which was now in warm shades of red, orange and yellow where street lights were turned on and in shades of deep dark blue and purple everywhere else.

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Miet van Hee and all the things she is

interview, Uncategorized March 31, 2016

First photography was a way to hide myself, hide behind the camera. Now it has become a way to show myself.

I remember bumping into Miet’s work online a couple of years back. She is one of those photographers that stayed with me through the years and I would go back to every once in a while to silently watch her progress and skills evolve. Miet van Hee’s work is raw, honest and grabs you by the hair. She portrays herself, her surroundings and the people in her life and creates a great sense of narrative without forcing a viewer in a certain direction. Her work is very voyeuristic, like we found the photographer’s diary in a drawer somewhere and are flipping through it, even though we are not allowed to do so. I was attracted to the work, not only because of the great visual language, but most of all for the honesty and the sense of struggle, usually with the self. The search for what it is you actually want from life, the impact others have on our hopes and dreams, our sense of self. But I’ll shut up about my interpretation of Miet’s work and let her speak for herself.

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‘Takk for hytta’ by Collectif PAÏEN

Features, Uncategorized January 31, 2016

“We need the tonic of wildness…At the same time that we are earnest to explore and learn all things, we require that all things be mysterious and unexplorable, that land and sea be indefinitely wild, unsurveyed and unfathomed by us because unfathomable. We can never have enough of nature.” ― Henry David Thoreau, Walden: Or, Life in the Woods

In the beginning, we had planned to work a month as wwoofers in the farm of a 70 years old couple, in small hamlet close to Oslo. Difference of opinions and generational conflict, we had stayed one week. After a few talks, some trees planted, a lawn-mower broken and window-panes well cleaned, we had decided to escape for the fjords of Sognfjord. This is the summary of three days of our one month trip, in a place where time seemed to pass differently.

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Exploring Ireland while listening to the blues by Isabella Prins

Features, On the Road, Writing January 8, 2016

Our day in Liverpool ends quickly though and the next day we find ourselves on yet another ferry to Dublin, where we get our first taste of Gaelic. All the road signs are both in English as in Gaelic and I rejoice in trying to say all the words out loud. I quickly memorize the word for exit as we pass the sign at least every five minutes on the highway and I don’t think I ever stopped saying it during those three weeks.

Ireland, I haven’t seen you for a while. A couple of years it has been since my feet touched your soil, but if I think of you I hear the music playing in my head and images of roads winding under flowery skies and over green hills littered with stone hedges come to me clear as if it happened just yesterday.

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Sounds of Israel by Dia Takácsová part 2 of 2

On the Road October 27, 2015

A quiet camp, everything is still, only a striped cat searches for some food besides the fireplace. We are waking up to cross the empty town and catch the first rays of sunshine. The desert wind is casting goosebumps on our skin while I’m taking photographs of the makhtesh. Suddenly, the weather changes: we cannot see anything but the sandy mist. A local lady stands next to the ibexes, just in the moment when they notice us, they are running away. I was wondering what happens to those born near the desert, how they change: it seems like she knows here every rock, animal, the changes of the seasons…

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Sounds of Israel by Dia Takácsová 1/2

On the Road October 20, 2015

Tired of the winter, we tried to escape it on the curvy roads of Israel, changing the boundaries of routine to the chaos of colours, smells and noises. Coming from the cold of -20°C, seeing palmtrees when we step out of the plane in Tel Aviv seems almost surreal. Crossroads of history in Jerusalem; narrow bazaar streets; our tiny flat with a cat sleeping on the roof. Standing in the crowd with the locals, with tourists and soldiers, I’m trying to catch some of their colourful stories.

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The Road to Santiago part 4 of 4

exclusives, On the Road October 19, 2015

“If I didn’t know you, I would say you have hit rock bottom.” My brother in law sits on the piano stool while I lean against the sofa. I am on my way out after living with my sister for the past month. “You gave away your furniture, you are living like a gypsy hopping from one underpaid job to the other, you don’t have a roof over your head and you fucked up your relationship.” I played with the keys in my hand, taking off my sisters key as my brother in law summed up the fruit of my labour. “But,” he continued, “because I do know you, I know this is the only way you will find your happiness and I am proud of you for breaking free. I would be shitting my pants if I were you.” I moved my gaze from the keys to his eyes. The expression he held in them made me realize he was being nothing other than serious. This man who I had always considered to be the opposite of what I was, kept surprising me. “Thanks,” I said and picked up my bag. I handed him the key and made my way to the door. With the door handle in my hand I turned around. “You really don’t think I am a screw up?” He shook his head. “I think you are a complete fruitcake,” he smirked, “but I also think you are about to find your way.”

I kept my promise. I went back to the trail, this time heading out alone. I walked on a pair of 10£ shoes as I left my hiking boots behind in Wales where I had worked with a lady with dementia for a while. My backpack was left behind in London, where I was trying to make my new home, so I had to make my way to Santiago with a daypack that I bought in a charity shop and some shitty shoes. None of it seemed important at the time though, the most important thing was that I was going. And I was alone.

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