I’m very often intrigued by eternity, and I like being able to experience a place where time and history have helped shape it. The passage of time lies within eternity. A human life is merely a brief speck, but many, many people have lived before us; I don’t know why, but I found that interesting to think about.
The above-paraphrased section is from a short documentary/interview with Danish photographer Kirsten Klein, whose work, upon discovering it, spoke to me and specific questions that have been tumbling around in my head lately.
The idea of eternity and its representation, or rather our feeble attempts to represent and even comprehend the immensity of such an idea, quite frankly beyond what the human mind can conceive, has been making its way into some of my pictures lately. I think this will be a two-part newsletter, with the second coming out in May, studying another photographer’s attempts at visualizing the idea of eternity.
Upon moving back to Montreal about a month ago from Midwest America, I took the opportunity to develop six rolls of film I had exposed during the summer of 2022. I had all but forgotten what was suspended in time on these silver rolls of celluloid; well, I had forgotten every image but one, the one at the very top of this newsletter.
Aside from that one crystalized memory of backward light and form in the ground glass of my TLR camera, I was able to view these images with an emotional state far removed from their making, and my current mindset was aligned with the ideas of Kirsten Klein, which I’ll be sharing more of as we go along (but I recommend just watching the video).
Because of the ambiguous mystery of these photographs and my lack of recollection of making them, I was able to allow myself the gift of falling into a created world I didn’t feel directly linked to but still a part of (even though I made the images, I was able to experience them more like looking at pictures on the page of a photo book).
Light is the main force in my work. It creates shape, drama, and mysteriousness. It emphasizes things you have never noticed before. Light is the determining factor in my work.
When you are familiar with the landscape where you live, you can travel to the place where you think the light might be interesting to work with. I never really have anything specific in mind; I just carry my camera with me for the sake of chance.
That’s why it is important to me that my camera isn’t too large, and why I don’t want to carry a tripod, because then you are outside to take photos. I’m outside to experience things and see something new.
I think she makes a beautiful point about the type of imaging tools/accessories we use and how they can affect not only workflow but also our emotional interaction with the world and our mindset toward it.
I know I prefer to photograph handheld because my photo walks are usually only driven by visiting a specific location, seeing what I find there, and returning if something in the images resonates with me later (though all these images were made on a tripod due to using slow shutter speeds).
Chance is a natural part of photography, though I believe some of us embrace it more than others. Still, having a good understanding of your local surroundings to know how to best react to them is essential to increasing the productivity of chance encounters, especially with light.
You’ve collected all these experiences which you hope will express themselves, but very often, when I look at the negatives, I feel a big disappointment.
You have to get used to the picture in relation to the experience.
Then, when you’ve copied it (printed it) and laid it out on the floor, and you’re looking at it slowly, something you believe in appears.
These two points relate strongly to my photography process. Emotional distance is why I could view the pictures I made with such openness. After two years, all I was anticipating was that something would be recorded in the film.
You hear it all the time, so you don’t need to listen to it from me, but printing an image makes it real; it finalizes the process chain up until the point of how it is then to be shared (if shared at all) with the world and is the only way to know if a picture is a success or not honestly (in my opinion).
I can’t wait to be set back up with my printer so I can print these images, in addition to the tiny thermal printer sticker prints I made and pasted into one of my journals to give me that sense of physicality.
I keep returning to black-and-white because it allows for many interpretations and makes it easier to express emotions.
There are more dimensions in black-and-white, and the feeling of escape into a different world may be intriguing.
For a black-and-white picture to make sense, there needs to be some sort of contrast, and preferably all the shades in between, from the deepest black to the lightest grey and white.
Since the earth eats light and the sky provides light I expose based on the earth to get the possibility of having that contrast.
I think I am somewhat ambiguous today. Lately, I have been enjoying questions rather than answers and seeking the infinite rather than the absolute.
Perhaps this is where eternity enters the images I am sharing here; perhaps not; I’m not sure. I know these photographs do not point toward anything, and I’m sure you’ll find that Kirsten’s pictures don’t, either.
Next month, I’ll follow up with part two of this idea of eternity in photography. I’ll share work I have been making throughout April with a consciousness toward my ideas on how to visualize eternity in relationship to the seascape photographs of Japanese photographer Hiroshi Sugimoto and a book I have been reading entitled “The History Of Canada In Ten Maps” by Canadian writer/adventurer Adam Shoalts.
That will do it for today. Please do yourselves a favour and watch the video with Kirsten Klein because her work is so stunningly beautiful that I want more people to experience it if they can. Take care!
I missed your thoughtful writing and photography. This was another excellent essay and I can relate to many of the things Kirsten Klein and you say about photography. Her name is familiar but I haven’t really looked into her work. I will do it now (and watch the video). Thank you, Matthew!
Great article Matthew and a beautiful and very relatable film about Kirsten Klein - thank you for bringing her work to my attention.
I look forward to the second part of your article.