Friday, August 31, 2018

this weekend's wedding had invites from a collab. i've got with bliss & bone nonetheless, yes please and thank you very much

You know those siblings living together in the movie
Four Weddings and a Funeral, those with the countless «fuck..!»s
and «fuck it..!»s during various mornings of them getting dressed running,
alternatively like acrobats in a speeding tiny car, on their way to
every single wedding they're going to..? Yes, those. We could have been living
with them and we would have fit like a, suddenly smudgy, white glove.
We're just going to one wedding, and still. This one is in the idyllic Cotswolds
this weekend and then we're off on a surprise trip to Mexico on Sunday.
It's me who's surprised, both with the trip and the fact that life is
closing in quickly on forty.

I'm packing a sheer, spry dress for the English countryside
and leopard print for Mexico & birthday a` la the Golden Girls.
Cassius's baggage is still mostly like installations around the house,
I've got more work to do, some unease to tuck away, and those
dummies that we were just about to give up will probably have to
come with us to Tulum if this is gonna work. I think we all
need a bit more of a well-timed weaning on that peacemaker.

little islands of calm in the storm
I remind myself that we are all acrobats walking the tightrope,
trying to keep our balance. Only today I feel more like
a clown with a bit of a blue edge.


Monday, August 27, 2018

Coming back home is easy. Easy and so beautiful.
It strikes me that I'm pulling a bit on my dress; wrinkled by an airport,
delays, a window seat & some slumber and I smile at myself for
still having a humming bloodstream at seeing each other again.
Quickly I pinch vain roses of warmth & wakefulness onto each cheek,
before walking through the sliding glass doors and out into the arrival lounge.
- Mama..! He's two and a half with the fast legs of longing despite it
being almost midnight. He runs towards me with white flowers held high.
Behind stands his papa with those same dark, syrupy eyes and smile.
I know that smile inside and out by now, he's got a humming bloodstream too.
Coming back home is the easiest thing in the world. And so damn beautiful.
back home has perfectly unclean windows. and now flowers chosen by a little boy.
He says - You're glowing, darling..! 
He says I 'always have a special radiance after I've been off shooting'.
And I feel it myself, can see it. It's almost strange,
my skin is actually clear and full of lustre, the eyes too. But also the soul,
so maybe it's not strange at all. I do, after all, feel undeniably so much like.. myself.
Behind my skin are days of feverish and messy and almost intoxicated togetherness,
my most beloved part of work, the part alongside those other four women.

jossi, sthlm | photograph of fuzzy quality, but miss madsen is fantastic and has to be here still
In Stockholm, we talk about how everything has taken so much longer
than we wanted, - & it was 'supposed to' with Makers and Muse.
Sometimes things don't happen in the way you thought they would,
despite very hard work and the best of intentions.
Being able to talk about that with each other is so freeing.
We look each other, truly, in the eye when we toast in dark red wine
and there's a respect in all of it that I adore.

Because all of us listens and wants to understand.
Because the friendship is most important for everyone there,
and because of the care for each other; for everyone to manage,
inside of their own lives with entirely diverse struggles & difficulties.
Exactly because we truly can look each other in the eye, 
both with dewy glances over the wine glasses, - & with morning
eyes sitting in each other's beds at dawn, before starting anew.
That's all why our days together are, in reality, magic. 

Back home the post-production work starts, taking care of
the time we spent together. Beneath my skin are days of feverish
and messy and almost intoxicated togetherness; my most beloved part
of the work, with those other four women.
I get, as always, hit a bit by the post-production blues.
The lustre of my skin also seems to fade a bit, in the company of laundry piles,
nursery schedules & long hours in front of the computer screen. 
Working on the photographs and the fact that we, after all, now should
be able to launch both Makers and Muse & Lemholt N' Bergman  
feels perfect and lovely in face of the inspirational season of autumn.
In the middle of the always missing s o m e o n e that moving to
another country entail, the freelancing life, the uncleaned windows, 
- & the fact that things don't always go the way you intended, 
i, after all, feel just more and more at home. 

photograph no2 is taken here at home - all others
in the lovely home of Sara N Bergman


Sunday, August 19, 2018

I've got that August feeling from back then, or almost identical to,
- the one when school was about to start again. The summer break lied vast and boundless
as a one and only landscape, behind a bronzed back and salty hair, autumn soon & ahead.
I wonder why this year, she's right there beneath my skin,
the fourteen-year-old. Presumably because of this summer, with its constant
heatwave and no rain since May, because that in itself feels like Life's summers,
the way they are remembered in recollection. The way the summers back then felt
endless and both then & now held a heat so incessant it becomes encapsulated
in every layer of you. And now it goes through into each age inside of me.

I'm thinking it's an abandoned phone and in its place, - LIFE, also like back then;
before smartphones, social media & vulture necks arched over screens.
In its place a summer, vast and boundless behind a bronzed back.
Hair bleached by sun & salt having grown down the curve of my back,
innumerable dips in a Gotlandic blue lagoon with the euphoric shrieks of a 
little boy learning to float; carried over a still turquoise water and by an entire
extended family taking loving turns, long dinners at dusk with more
and more wine glasses emptied by candlelight deep into the balmy nights,
dripping ice lollies, barefoot mornings and naked nights between airy sheets.
With less of a presence like this, here, a more substantial one in real life
 that makes time stretch, just like it seemed to do back then,
May, June & July have a lie in, lingers in August and I've got peacefulness.

The finale turned out to be Stockholm dressed in its most lovely summer's hat
{that translucent straw one} with work that always feels much like the play of childhood,
liberated and liberating. Makers and Muse is slowly forming all at once.
Jossi creates a surrogate salon and cuts my bleached and waist long hair
and makes us all up magically, camera-ready.
We are sisters, mamas, friends and daughters. We are as if four,
fourteen & forty in one and autumn can come whenever it pleases.
Staring contest with Jossi. She won.
Makeshift salon mid-shoot. One decimetre of sunbleached off.
Catching our breath at Fabrique. Devoured cardamom bun in August light.
G&T breaks did some extra wonders for the creativity. 
The muse captured in a solo moment.
I've got that August feeling from back then, or almost identical to,
- the one when everything was just about to start anew.
By virtue of the sun and all the freedom, I'm feeling fourteen,
but in reality, I'm closing in quickly on forty. The well-acquainted
melancholy of things coming to an end doesn't appear,
more so a distress & dispiritedness outwards; about the environment
and about the political climate of my mother country,
but inwards mostly the healing of a true to life summer break.