the beauty of sleep
I've always dreamed of a red, small cottage out in the woods. A place where the silence is absolute. Where I can scream and run around naked without anyone noticing. Where our children can play and maybe build a small house in a tree. I will collect blue berries and make jam out of it. We'll go for walks and fish... be silent and alone. Or with loads of friends and family around the bon fire. I know this place - this small red cottage - will mean a lot to me and to my family. This was where we fetched our first christmas tree.
I guess I'm putting all my dreams in that small cottage. It's like a dream collecter. The great thing is that it's real. It's ours hide-away. In the forest. Today King Winter has taken the forest as it's hostage. And it's beautiful.
Friendship is beautiful. Me and Mari went to London a few weeks ago. It was my first trip abroad withiut my Noah. He was in my mind all the time, but still I manage to enjoy every second of the beautiful, buzzling and crazybig city of London. It made my world bigger. Thank you Mari and Marte. Thank you, my London.
summer has gone. autumn has come. I miss the warm evenings of the summer, the long nights and the quiet days. autumn has another pace. but in spite of that - autumn has small and hidden pockets of quietness. in these small pockets we live and love.
these pictures are both from summer and from the season we are in now. they all have something in common. but i cannot write this in words. sometimes I feel pictures is like music, they all have their own tone. if these pictures were a song I would call it "warm sound". I guess that is what they have in common.
What I love about June is the dramatic change of weather. From sunshine on Wednesday to thunder and rain on Thursday. K and I are both home with our Noah. Beautiful days. The weather decides our activity. Today we went for a walk in the forest. I read a book while N was sleeping in his pram. When he woke up we went swimming with all our clothes on. I love watching him while he's exploring the world. In rain, sunshine or thunder. My June.
Riika from Finland was born blind. I met her in Copenhagen a couple of years ago and decided to do a photo project on one of my greatest fears - becoming blind. I this project I was aiming to photograph the impossible - what Riika was seeing.
Thank you Riika. For the talks, the walks and for explaining me your world. a world beyond sight.
This project was exhibited in a group exhibition in Copenhagen, at Fabrikken for Kunst og Design, spring 2008.
On my hard disc there are many secrets. The next couple of weeks I will post some old photo projects. Because some of them have been hiding on my hard disc way too long...
There's something about this picture.
it makes me want to run barefoot on a beach. and to be five again.
I shot this picture while living in Copenhagen and I remember there was something about this girl in the green raincoat that captured my interest. the raincoat was too big. the girl so silent.. she was in her own world. the girl and her shadow... two and one at the same time. so beautiful. so perfect.
this is why i love photography. being able to capture a moment and watch that moment again and again. the girl in the green raincoat had no idea I was photographing her. today she must be around eight. This blog post is for this girl.
...and for all the lost moments that was never photographed. this is not one of them.
it makes me want to run barefoot on a beach. and to be five again.
I shot this picture while living in Copenhagen and I remember there was something about this girl in the green raincoat that captured my interest. the raincoat was too big. the girl so silent.. she was in her own world. the girl and her shadow... two and one at the same time. so beautiful. so perfect.
this is why i love photography. being able to capture a moment and watch that moment again and again. the girl in the green raincoat had no idea I was photographing her. today she must be around eight. This blog post is for this girl.
...and for all the lost moments that was never photographed. this is not one of them.
// the path finder
this picture is for the man who showed me the Himalayas. who led me through the most beautiful scenery I have ever seen... he was a guide and my friend, but now he is not anymore. he passed away a few days ago.
this picture is taken six in the morning on the way to the tibetan border in Bhutan.
this man helped me find the right paths, in a time where I really needed someone to show me the right direction.
for robin. for the people in bhutan who is grieving. for friendship, memories. for Bhutan.
// paper cranes
hva er en fugl uten vinger? det henger to papirfugler på tørkesnoren vår. den ene er stor og streng, den andre liten og lett.
de klipper vingene av gjessene for at de ikke skal kunne stikke av. jeg synes det er en så uendelig trist ting å gjøre. nå kan de ikke fly. de kan ikke lenger gjøre det de er født til å skulle.
ingen får klippe vingene av våre papirfugler.
// a hammock, a house and you
Det skjer på samme tid hver eneste kveld. Himmelen skifter farge og forandrer seg til det ugjenkjennelige. Vi setter oss på trammen og blir sittende og stirre opp, opp, opp.
Da jeg bodde i Bhutan pleide jeg å følge konturene av fjellrekken med øynene, rolig og nøye. Som om jeg tegnet fjellet med blikket mitt. Her gjør jeg det samme så ofte jeg kan. Det gir en helt spesiell ro å tegne fjellet med blikket... Jeg lurer på hvor mange mennesker før meg som har sittet og sett på nøyaktig de samme fjellene. Andes-fjellene. Mektige og sterke, gamle og foranderlige.
Når sola går ned og vi sklir inn i den halvtimen rett før det blir mørkt, er det som om hele landsbyen holder pusten. Det er liksom ekstra stille. I det siste har det begynt å bli litt kaldt rundt denne tiden. Høsten har såvidt begynt å feste grepet her i Barreal.
Når sola går ned i morgen, skal jeg fortelle Noah at den vil stå opp igjen morgenen etter.
Alle bildene er tatt på omtrent samme tid og alle er fra hagen/uteplassen vår her i Barreal.
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