Right now, in Oslo,  the Peder Lund gallery is exhibiting 21 photographic prints by Diane Arbus. For any person in town having even the tiniest interest in photography, a show like this is too tempting to resist. A chance to have a peak at Identical twins, and standing face to face with Child with a toy hand grenade,  .

I know this might not sound all ground-shaking exciting to you, but Norway is most of the time a small an un-interesting country. Too far off in the periphery for anyone to take it seriously.

One funny thing I noticed, even before visiting the gallery, is that the gallery’s press release’s staring sentences focus singularly on her suicide. As if the woman did nothing but dying, during her 48 years of being alive. Taking photographs, of course, and dying. Seemingly this is a way standard practice when introducing Arbus, at least around here.

I guess the only real issue with presenting pictures, inside the frame of how the photographer died, is a simple one:  The obvious truth given by a psychology student so humbly the other day; no, in fact, he can not read minds. It’s true, he can’t. Nor will he be able to do so when his education is done. Then, why do the rest of us take our mind-reading abilities for granted? – Can we honestly read the fate of Mrs Arbus into a set of silver prints?

We all live in this curious world, where we’re taught that a picture can say more than a thousand words. Then we grow up, and figure out the sad fact that photographs just may lie in just a similar manner. And we count this discovery in words, and in words alone. Because if a thing can’t be said, or let alone written, it can not possibly be. As I recall,Susan Sontag touched briefly upon this subject when writing her (in)famous critique on Diane’s artistic work and talent.

These days most people first encounter Arbus’ work through the words of scandal; depression and the tale of the tormented generous. The voyeur. Had it not been that I’d first seen her photographs, and only later heard her life-story (vividly unfolded by an amused storyteller) the infinite numbers of words would have deceived me. And I would never have known!

The photography of Diane Arbus does in very possible way deal with the human condition. The everyday freaky moments, and the single uniqueness of  pretty much anything. She found herself sitting in people’s living room, photographing them as they were. Normal human beings, like non of us and everyone. In any case her photographs never showed  how hideous people might be, now paraphrasing Sontag.

Who’s afraid of Diane Arbus? I was, for a very long time. When surveying her photographs in the grim light of a computer screen. Then, with an adventurer at heart I searched her work again, in life this time. And what I found was everything besides frightening.

There are an awful lot of people in the world and it’s going to be terribly hard to photograph all of them… It was my teacher Lisette Model who finally made it clear to me that the more specific you are, the more general it will be. – Diane Arbus

Mother, Vadsø 2011

This site is going through some major changes these days. Sorry if things seem a little bit chaotic, it’s probably just a phase…

Momental Impressions is dead. Sort of.

This photo blog began as a side project, a very long time ago.  During the years it became the only thing I’ve kept up with, funny as it might sound. Because no matter how much turbulence life brought, I would always sign in to this place again. Later more often than sooner, but it would happen. Always.

Even when I’ve beaten myself to pieces for not taking “blogging” more serious; I would always flee when some sort of success headed my direction, and hated myself afterwards. This site has been the site of freedom. A haven where I could crawl, cry and create without anyone really caring. Who reads poetry anyway?

Telling the truth: some people actually do. And that’s how you meet so many great and inspiring people Thank you guys! (and girls!!!)

So now I’m packing pretty much all my stuff, and making a move. Why? You may ask. The answer is quite simple: I need my “name” back. And even though it might surprise someone; there’s more to life than more-or-less pretty images and haiku-ish thoughts. Unfortunately, maybe…

On the other hand; having an unofficiall ramble-place, a dancing floor on my own. Where every moment is just as important as the next, has in some way become a way of life. And In the end, celebrating life is something which you can’t do too often.

The only thing which is changing, is that I now know where in life I want need to be, therefore I’m taking my name back. To continue the path started when I first entered the fabulous thingy named the internet.

See you around!

Vadsø, Norway. – a summer not too long ago.

Note on the title: the most common Norwegian word for hopscotch is “paradis”, literary meaning paradise.

Enjoy!:)

What happens when it stops?

Toten, Norway – May 2009, in loving memory of Hod.

Would you believe me
if I told you I’ve known them all my life?
They may breathe fire
They may breathe ice
And they might kill you
for not taking an extra look

Would you believe me
still, if all this is true?
That no one reads
Poetry and this no
one is you?

Bøker og børst/Books & Booze, Stavanger April 2011. By courtesy of Ms. Lise.

This poem is not the one I intended writing, but it happened anyway. All of a sudden. As I guess these things do.

Enjoy!

swimming in golden treasures of yesterday’s making.
The earth is swollen, the sky is grey, you breath water and
something named air.

What does yellow feel like?

Gothenburg, Sweden – October 2009

Enjoy!

Like that time you made my father young again, for a glimpse of time, by handing him the last Autumn flower.  It’s good to believe in impossible things,

knowing that dragons may fly if you ask them to. Any of those colours hidden in the wind are right at the very tip of your paintbrush. Ascend for love’s sake, and rather than your own. Even when the earth is doomed,
knowing that time is not against us. It’s the sole thing we ever get for free.

Grab it! And never let go, for as long as you’ve got any paint left. Let it flow, let it sing, let it dance.

Gaia herself is a giving canvas.

Toten, Norway – October 2006. Inspired by Eve Ensler: Embrace your inner girl | Video on TED.com.

Photography by I.T Hammar.  I am in front of the camera, can you imagine?
We used to make whole series this way, switching between acting as model and photographer. So if anyone has seen any pictures of striking similarity to this work, that’s perfectly fine. No it’s more than fine, it’s simply great!
The Deviant Art community is one of the places where the two of us grew up, and at least it was a good isle in the wast sea of world-wide web. What it’s like these days, I can’t tell. Would you happen to know anything about this?