Secret Garden

It's 6 A.M.

A early autumn morning and it is time to put a brush
Through that rough beard of mine
Slowly getting grey
Pepper and salt like human tree rings on my face

The oil makes it smell nice

Maybe I am
not man enough...
It is all I was thinking about while shaking my head
Day dreaming... Morning dreaming... Whatever...

Or is it more like day walking
Sometimes...
Because sometimes it feels like my strong body
is more dead than alive

Nothing but day dreaming...
About that mesmerizing painting
A masterpiece
You are truly worth more than a thousand stars...

My brush at the right side of the sink
Next to my razor
So it is easy to remember when my mind wanders off
To new places

I found a place you know...
With long winding stairs
And when I get to the top
there is a garden and I will find you there

A garden
high in the clouds
a different unapologetic romantic reality
where our feet don't touch the grass when we dance

Your smile makes my longing heart feel nice

A gentle breeze has turned up...
For me a signal
that the day is about to start and it is time for me to go
I will come back though

When my feet take the last steps down that winding stairs
I raise my face to the mirror
Still wet from the water and maybe a tear
I won't tell
But it is just enough water to cut my beard line straight

Sometimes
I am not sure if I am that I am
Man enough
To grab your hand one day and take you for that dance

My day starts
It's 7 A.M.
I eat my breakfast and have my coffee
But nothing fills

~ Secret garden

They managed to hide from me for four weeks!

I have the luck I live next to a nature reserve.

And during time it was, and still is my favourite place to escape.

The area is full of beautiful animals and these horses are among them.

A couple of new photographs and putting myself out there...

I have put up a new couple of photographs on my Instagram. But I rather always put them on my blog… Seems more right…

Also if you are a gallery owner and reading this. I am actually looking for representation.

No idea how the art world works since I used to be a competitive Olympic Weightlifter and never went to art school.

So after my most successful year I have had so far, such a step would help me greatly in making more and better work.

Inspired...

Inspired…

Something has changed...

Something has changed...

I will bring you to my lake one day...

What if I bring you to my lake?
That will be the moment it will be yours as well...
It is no longer mine alone

You have to promise me to take care of it
Keep it a mystery
So it is just known to you and me

Around the lake you will find deer
That will talk to you
when you are sad

Or that place for the perfect picnic
Which I am sure of
it will make you smile

I will bring you to my lake one day
And it will be no longer mine alone...
You really need to promise you will take care of it

I will introduce you to the birds
And they will sing a song
That will open up your shielded heart

And in the summer
There is a beautiful place between the trees
to see the stars

I will let you see my lake one day
Just show me you will take care of it
And my lake will be yours…

My Egyptian secret window...

Wandering

I was wandering through the streets of Cairo
My hand was holding an old Visa from Egypt
Stamped and signed somewhere in the 80’s…

It’s so difficult to photograph today
But what choice do I have?

Sweating through my clothes just sitting
The food I ate just to not to disappoint some locals isn’t helping either

Photography is my secret window
A private conversation

An inner dialogue from me to my other self that just won’t stop talking
Every secret window a new chapter

Countless of windows that open up and close again when the time has come
And this specific chapter has come to an end
Ready for the next one…

Maybe I am lying to myself
Maybe I am not
Maybe it is just all I have to turn my imagination to truth

I was wandering through the streets of Cairo
And all I was thinking was: “I need one photograph”

A cat came up to my leg to say hi
I heard a purr…
But in my mind I was exactly where I needed to be

Alone

Complete and by myself
Well maybe not complete because I am still missing my other half

I sat down to give my tired feet some rest
Suddenly A little girl came up to me
Speaking to me in a language I didn’t understand

She could have not been older than six
Or maybe she was eight
I don’t know…

She reminded me of a vision or a dream I sometimes have that I want to have a daughter and I want to be the best father in the world

One day I will be…

On her arm there were some beautiful necklaces ready to be sold
In the sweetest possible way I tried to say: “No”
And after a big smile she understood and walked away a bit sad…

A bench beside me there were some locals
Looking all ready to go out because it was a Friday evening
I asked: Is she yours?

One of the women replied to me
The same way I replied to the little girl
I received a gentle smile, a shaking head from left to right, and a no

My secret window was closing
At least for the days I was here…
Or maybe just for today

I needed a photograph
Just. One. Photograph.

I felt frustrated and angry
“Cris you can do this” I told myself

Normally I would haven taken fourteen portraits
And petted about seventeen stray cats

What is wrong with me?

It is not that I wanted to give up
Because I never do

I believe in Soulmates
In destiny
In fate…

And this journey has become a part of my fate as well

It must have been the food poisoning
Should have said no to the food
Push through Cris, Push through… Push through…

I walked and I walked…
And suddenly you feel it

That same feeling you have when you close the window because there is a storm outside
And a gust of wind blows in your face right before you hear that loud clank when the window shuts

ZuZu and Habiba

My saviors

Sweet Arabian angels that came from the heavens
Taking selfies at just the right time
Saying hello just to make sure I got guided in the right direction

Without them I was lost
Without them at this point in time my art was lost…

My secret Window opened up again
And despite I didn’t knew if I could use this photograph at all
It was all I needed to get things moving

My spiritual wind was blowing until the last day I was able to shoot
I needed to capture that feeling
That one feeling

I did

One photograph to accompany that Visa from the 80’s…

Guilty

In my final hours in Cairo I went searching for that one little girl
I felt so guilty for saying no
Searching… In a city of twenty million

I would rather spend my last Egyptian pounds on souvenirs that I could buy from her than all the scammers on the market in the old part of the city

“You have a nice beard sir, you look like an Arab”
Words spoken to me in a persuasive way that would hypnotize any first time traveler
If they only knew… They wouldn’t even try…

My secret window was closing again…

I searched and I searched the streets until my feet got tired but with no luck
My last Hail Mary was to find the same bench I encountered her before

I felt some wind blowing…
And hoped it was a sign

As I rested my feet on that exact same bench there was no one there to be found…
It was a reminder to me that the universe sometimes says no
The “No” came out and with a sweet and gentle smile in the form of a cat sitting next to me…

A purr came out…
From me
As well as the cat

I guess some secret windows
Are just never meant to have some wind blowing through it…

~ My Egyptian secret window...

KAUNAS PHOTO festival.

Hey everyone,

Happy to announce that I will be part of the KAUNAS PHOTO festival!

And to make it even better, my art is going to be in a freaking castle!!!

I mean, how cool is that?

Never in my entire life I have thought that my photographs would be displayed in a castle, so that is super cool. And I can of course say it made me very happy and it feels like a result of all of the hard work I have put in creating my art.

I think I haven’t had a proper break since I came back from Myanmar. Woke up 06:00 in the morning just worked worked worked. So if this is the result I get from that it is all worth it. I literally did a dance in my living room haha. Every success need to be celebrated right? Doesn’t matter how big or small they are…

I am being accompanied by plenty of other cool and amazing artist. So if you are in the neighborhood of Kaunas in Lithuania go and check out all of it and all of them.

For a detailed overview of all of the artist and all the other news that is surrounding the festival, please check out the KAUNAS PHOTO festival news page which you can find here.

Hop everyone is having a great weekend. Or even more so, a great rest of the year. And with a bit of luck I will be having my first adventure since a long time, soon.

~ Cristian

Patty. - Memories of a man once there...

Patt - Memories of a man once there…

I didn't know if we were going for a ride or watching a sunset...

I didn't know if we were going for a ride or watching a sunset...

Kirsten

Two portraits I took of Kirsten with my new large format friend.

Dante 2021

Hey everyone,

Some of you may have seen it on social media but I totally forgot to update my blog/news page. But I will be part of the upcoming book about Dante Alighieri! That is so coooooool!

Not only I am a hopeless romantic that made me day dream all day about the Devine Comedy, but the one of my first inspirations ever in the visual arts are the Illustrations by Gustave Doré.

He made an huge impact on me and I like to believe that sometimes that is visible in some of my photographs.

Below is a statement about the news of the book and you can find more info on this link.

The Dante 2021 project, conceived by dotART together with the Municipality of San Daniele del Friuli, will involve Italian and foreign photographers in a collective tribute to Dante Alighieri on the occasion of the 700th anniversary of his death. The photographic volume will boast an introduction by Piero Boitani, Emeritus Professor of Comparative Literature at Sapienza University of Rome. Professor Angelo Floramo, scientific consultant of the Guarneriana Library of San Daniele del Friuli, will supervise the book.

So that is some great news! If I have more information about it I of course will share it.

~ Cristian

Winter tea in summer…

I experiment with words sometimes.

My mind is always running in overdrive so when I can’t take photographs I work on some poetry. Yes I am one of thoooosseee guys.

Not necessarily autobiographical.

Sometimes it is… Sometimes it isn’t…

Sometimes it is a combination of both and let the fictional and the real intertwine.

Past or present. Or just some observations…

What I wrote and do share is also not like the the three words Instagram haiku shit or for people with short attention spans. You actually have to read.

Anyways…

This is “Winter tea in summer…“

It needs to be tweaked a little but I have been writing it since last night.

I woke up this morning
Same position as I fell asleep

When I tried to get up I wanted to clear my eyes
I rubbed and I rubbed

It didn't work
It didn't make any sense as well

It all was gone... Disappeared same as my eyes
My lips... My ears... My nose...

I am not me anymore...

When I got out of bed I tried not to wake you
It was time to go

So I got up and turned the kettle om
and grabbed a pen..



Why does poetry or letters always has to about sex?
Let them be about love, the lack of love, or no love at all...

Or about the time I was excited to meet you for the first time
Or the moment when I realized I was just with you because I feared to be alone

The time when we got drunk and it felt right to kiss you
But I didn't because it didn't feel right as well

That's how I figured it out...



A combination of tears and ink smudged the paper as I wrote down my feelings
I don't hate you, I don't! I swear...

Your heart will not believe that for sure
But it is the right thing to do

You deserve someone who truly loves you
I deserve someone I truly love

Let’s not be one of those couples that you see hurting from a distance
One of those couples you see there is something wrong but you just can’t put your finger on it

You can see it in their shadows that have a life of their own
Shadows that have coffee and kiss the other dark mess they have always been searching for



It seemed my fingers and hands had a life of their own as well
As I wrote down the last words while I took a sip of my tea

I made some winter tea in summer…

It all came back again
As soon as I closed the envelope

My eyes
My lips... My ears... My nose...

When I got out of the door I tried to clear my eyes
From some tears

And just
because it was a hard good bye


~ Winter tea in summer

Opening Reception Mono - Kromatik Praxis Arts Center.

Besides father’s day last weekend was also the opening of the group exhibition Mono - Kromatik at the Praxis Gallery and Photo Arts Center in Minneapolis Minnesota, US which I am part of with my photograph: “There was a moment when you asked me…”.

The exhibition is from June 19th until July 3rd 2021 in Minneapolis, Minnesota. In the United States.

So if you are from that area have a look around. :)

Happy father's day, dad. A letter to you...

Dear dad,

Today is father’s day… I think I have never knowingly experienced this day with you ever. I was of course three years old since you have left and went to heaven. I remember that day so vividly…

But today I am writing you a letter and will put it in the mailbox I have found in one of the so many portals I have created. It most likely will work, I am confident about that that…

Ghost stamps and spirit envelops is all a man needs.

I was thinking long and hard…

I was thinking long and hard what to write you but I just decided to go with the flow. Why not right? It is summer anyway and since a while now I have created the habit of waking up early… Don’t know where that is coming from because I used to love sleeping in. Maybe it is the result of becoming a man instead of a boy and it was supposed to happen anyway.

Anyway… I was awake at 05:00 because the suns is started to rise and I like the morning light shining on my face. Got me some coffee (It was coffee from Yemen, and it is amazing!), put up some music and just ticked away at my keyboard and sometimes taking a bite out of some crackers that miraculously made it to my face.

So what will I write to you about…

I have no idea where to start dad! Oef there so many things… From that my life is literally one of the strangest stories ever, to that I am waiting for my first large format camera. About unanswered love. Or that I was worried that friends I have made all over the world are now dealing with war which fucking sucks but I am totally powerless to do anything about it. Oh and today I am fixing my motorbike! Finally! It has been standing still for more than a year… I love riding, but too much going on which is more important to give it the proper time and attention it needs. I will sell it when it is fixed.

I don’t know man…

Life is complicated by itself already and now I have to put things into words… I am curious how you would have handled situations like this yourself. Maybe you wouldn’t even think about stuff like in that way…

Maybe were wouldn’t even be that close if you were still alive.

That is a question I ask myself a lot. My life would have been totally different if you would be still here. Or not, we of course never know. But it is a plausible scenario.

Most likely I would have never met the people that I have met and I like to believe that there is a reason why I have met all of them. And the ones that stayed, I kinda like them. Especially one. Who knows… One day I’ll introduce you to her… And I would not want to have never met them. They are amazing.

So in a strange way. It all happened for a reason and that you are not here does not mean you are not here. And I had to meet all those people.

So what more do you write in a ghost letter?

I think about another question a lot and that is who am I when the healing is done?

Healing is not only a Amsterdam hipster term used by white girls who white-wash Yoga and culturally appropriate things from the Southern Americas.

No actual healing.

I have the answer though. And the answer is: Just Cris.

And that is enough.

I have found my the things that I stand for in life. My values and norms. And they calibrate bit by bit the more you learn as a man. Same as goals, hopes, and dreams.

But also that I never give up in what I strive for.

Work my butt off.

Admit when you are wrong. And put time and energy in the ones that you love.

So I guess what I am saying, Dad. It feels that I have finally become a man. With all it’s flaws and quirks. But can genuinely say that I am happy in who I have become and who I will change into. And my photography project is not made out of pain. But meant more in the way to give it a place. I am already whole. And most importantly:

I am happy.

And in a way I have to thank you for that.

Alright dad. Gotta go. My buddy is here with his wrenches. We need to go fix some motorbike stuff.

Happy father’s day!

~ Cristian

Portrait of Tom de Haan

A while back I have taken the portrait of Tom de Haan who is the city pastor of the city of Haarlem in the Netherlands.

It took me a while to finish it because I wanted to marinade the contact sheet for a while in my mind, and at a later stage how I was going to print it.

But after getting all of that out of the way, four months later it is done.

Printed on silver gelatin Bergger fiber warmtone paper and retouched by hand. Not with photoshop of course.

Opening reception at the PH21 gallery.

Hey all,

Opening reception for the monochrome exhibition at the PH21 Gallery in Budapest will be on June 3rd at 18:00. Will be an online one since, well, those pesky things that is making the entire globe still sick.

Hope the next one will be a in person one again haha.

~ Cristian

Photographs are not always about the photograph...

Photographs are not always about the photograph…

I was picking up a freshly baked bread this morning and I was thinking about a photograph I made. It was far from a mind blowing one, but I just liked it.

Photographs are not always about the photograph you know.

In this case it was a catalyst just to write and arrange some words.

And that is fine.

And that’s all…

I am not afraid of death
Only what comes before it

The chances we didn't take
The life we did not chose

Afraid of those two hands
Slowly moving on that platter of that old Victorian clock

A bit too fast
A bit too slow

With luck
Or without

If a bird took me away and forced me to speak to god
I would would tell him I fought with all my heart

Fought across fields made out of flowers of hope
And let the wind take away what anyone else would think of me

I don't care I do care I don't care

I would roll around the grass and look at the sky
Saying a gave it my all

I am not afraid of death
Only what comes before it

I must I must I must

Never waste
What came before it

Even if I have to crawl...

Life as a colorblind (photographer)...

Usually I am an open book…

An old book by by now… Well not that old. But let’s say old enough to know better and young enough to still make mistakes.

But there is one subject matter I actually I don’t talk about that much. And that is that I am literally colorblind.

I don’t know why I don’t talk about it that much, because in general I am happy about who I became as a man. So it is quite strange. Maybe it is because it sometimes still bothers me…

I made peace with it the same way I did with most parts of my life. But sometimes the nagging still arises.

And sometimes the nagging and the bother even hurts.

I remember that one night I was sitting on my couch and I was looking at the work of Tania Frano Klein and a tear rolled down my eye because I realized I could never ever create something like that in my life. Even if I summoned all of my Dutch strength and pulled the heavens and earths and the rivers and mountains together to create a new world it still wouldn’t matter.

Or when I look at the photographs of my friend Thana and I see her color work. And it makes me happy because they are beautiful, and makes me sad at the same time because I can only explain to her how it makes me feel but not what I see.

My eyes are my eyes and they will never change…

It sometimes even makes me feel guilty because I want to honor what the artist has intended.

And even if you want to explain it what you see, you just can’t. Because everyone else does see color. So no one will ever understand you.

Well that is a bit of a depressing start of a story isn’t it?

But hey, it’s 2021. So that means as a man you can talk about your emotions as he pleases. Even when you were a strong spandex wearing Olympic Weightlifter at one time… A man should be allowed to have big muscles as well intellect.

So what color is this?

The story get’s better. No worries… Or, at least I hope…

Most likely haha.

The one question I always get the first time when I tell someone that I am colorblind is: “What color is this?“. I can tell you right now, it is the most annoying question in the world!

What color is this pen?

I don’t know…

What color is my shirt?

I don’t know…

What color is this strawberry?

Red…

See, I knew it! You are not colorblind!

No dumbass. I know that strawberries are red like everyone else in this world…

One of the tricks that you learn how to deal with it is indeed memorize what color certain objects have. Grass is green, strawberries are wild. And red of course… And with traffic lights I need the bottom one and the brightest one.

In Lightroom and Photoshop you use values. Because digitally everything has values. And if you need red you just use #FF0000 or 255, 0, 0…

That helps a lot with commercial work.

My ego…

When I started out with photography I forced myself to shoot color. But I should have known better… During the weird but interesting journey that has become my life I learned plenty of lessons and one of them is never force yourself to be someone you are not. And that means as a human, or a certain situation that you are in. Remove yourself from it or it will eat you up alive.

And I still did. I wanted to shoot color soooooo bad. I looked at books of Joel Meyerowitz, Jamel Shabazz, or Martha Cooper and I was like I want to do that too!

But it was no use.

It didn’t fit me.

No matter how hard I forced myself. It just wasn’t a good match… Not even when I discovered film photography and setting your white balance suddenly became less important.

Luckily I learned though and I embraced it in my art. No more color photography for me…

Embracing my weakness and seeing it as my strength gave me the same results as it did in previous situations and parts in my life. It gave me a better standard of life…

No more stressing out.

No more looking for things that aren’t there.

No more chasing a unicorn.

If there is a god he wants me to be happy and not sad. Especially not because of “rules”.

It feels very good to not to have to pretend anymore that you are happy with what you do or who you are. Just being unapologetically yourself… Paradiso.

The beauty of the whole situation…

Contrast… That apparently I can see very well. Most likely in my own way… But shooting black and white photography has so many layers….

Black and White photography has become the one and only thing that matters to me. And when you learn how to use that contrast you can put the techniques of the old master painters to use and you instantly have another dimension to work with. Originally used in color, but works very good in Black and White.

That doesn’t mean that color sucks.

But what you see a lot in color photography is that is used as a crutch. Especially now that a lot is online. Social Media and all of your smart devices are designed to release dopamine. And most color work has the same effect. In some galleries they even curate like that and it looks more like an Instagram feed now.

Fun fact: People spend an average time between 15 and 30 seconds at an artwork in a gallery or museum. And you need around 4 minutes and 8 seconds to actually get it. The average dwell time on Instagram for a picture is less than 3 seconds and even shorter for your story. That’s around 0.3. So what the fuck are we doing?

I think it was Richard Avedon that said something like: ”Anything is an art if you do it at the level of an art”. And what he means by that is that everything that is done in excellence is beautiful. Good photography, good BBQ, good dancing.

So good color work is good and beautiful color work. It means that the entire purpose of what color is being used is thought of and has a function to, for example: let you feel a certain feeling. Too bad I can’t see it tough.

But there is something about the rawness of black and white. It is just you and the photograph. You need to make an effort to understand it. You have to take your time. You need to decipher it.

And if someone or something makes an effort for you.

Or to understand you…

To understand your art.

That is priceless!

I cannot think of a higher honor than that.

Good life lesson as well btw. If someone in your life makes an effort, keep them around… Those people are rare… It means it’s good folk.

So what can you see?

I have no fucking idea…

I stopped matching my socks a long time ago…

The interesting thing is that I am sure I am not the only one with this condition, and 1 in 11 men has some sort of a form of color blindness. Maybe not as intense as my version, but that is still a lot of color blind dudes.

Hopefully me writing about it helps other men talk about it and deal with it. Not only in the artistic field but men in all professions.

But from what I discovered is that not everyone knows that they are because most cases are mild…

I can honestly say that color is the least important thing in my life…

Having my eyes is not something I chose. I was born like this… And all the fancy glasses and apps cannot solve it. The only way how I will ever properly see color ever in my life is when Elon Musk hooks-up the Neuralink device to my brain and I get camera sensors in my eyes…

And that is I believe where the beauty comes in.

When I see a beautiful old car I can describe it in full detail.

I will tell you about the passenger who was in it. The chrome. The buttons and the buckles…

The leather seats and the rims.

Even if it was driving fast or slow and if the window was cracked…

And that is how I look at people as well.

I was at a BLM rally last summer, and one of the speakers said: “And even if you are colorblind you can still see the difference between white and black!”

And I was like: No man… That is not how it works…

You have never seen the world through my eyes…

Same as I never seen the world though yours…

Not to dilute anything about your message and and the cause and make it less meaningful. But color is literally the least important thing in my life because I have never experienced it like a normal human being.

I have never ever experienced the green of the grass…

I have never ever experienced the beauty of the autumn leaves…

I have never ever experienced the color of someone’s eyes…

I just know that they are beautiful…

I just know that they make an amazing sounds when I walk through them and I want to roll in it…

I just know that it smells nice when it is freshly cut…

If you are a man with a hat… Or A woman in a dress…

And most importantly. If you were nice to me… It is all I care about. And if we ever cross paths and I like you, I can describe your entire soul.

*P.S.

I am writing this pas a bit later than the rest of the post but I just read an interview with one of my friends in Myanmar and it really broke my heart. She send it to me today and it took me a while to digest and I felt the need to address it.

The situation is really bad over there and unfortunately there is no hope that the Junta will leave soon. A lot of people are dying and a lot of people are worrying about their food.

The sucky thing is that I am powerless…

I want to do so much. And I wish nothing but the best for the people of that beautiful country. But I just don’t know what to do… Except to talk about it and hopefully it lands somewhere where it needs to land.

If I had a magic wand I would make all the troubles go away… I would make the proxy war in Yemen go away and made sure all the people would have food. I would help the people who went through the Gulf war and later Isis as well because I have friends in that region like Iraq as well. I would help the people who had their homes take away by natural disasters and are trying to rebuild everything. I would help Tibet preserve their beautiful culture. I would get rid of all walls including all firewalls…

There is so much shit going on in the world on. It goes beyond words. So let’s find a way to make this world a better place.

People just need to be free…

~ Cristian

Here you will have a photograph that is already published in my project page of “Memories of a man once there…“ The thing is I not getting much enjoyment out of posting my photographs on social media anymore… There are many reasons for that. But one of them it seems to be diluting hard work. There is a difference in making art or content. And I don’t make content. One day I will write an article about it. But that too needs to be done well otherwise it will be become quickly become a complain piece instead of something that adds to the conversation. Plus like I always say: A photograph is not a photograph until it is printed.

Some work in progress… Started trying out new papers instead of the ones I regularly use. Satisfied until so far… A photograph is not a photograph until it is printed.

Shorlisted for the Belfast Photo Festival...

Hey all,

Well good news seems to keep coming 2021 and that makes me very happy.

Not only it is a confirmation that hard work pays off. But also that my gut feeling was right with the direction I was pushing myself into.

Being a photographer can be lonely sometimes and sometimes you feel even crazy.

Running around with those old camera’s and film…

So I am happy to announce I am shortlisted for the Belfast Photo Festival!

People who know anything about the Festival know that it is a big deal and being shortlisted alone make me jump in the air from joy. :)

Hopefully I will make it to the end and be one of the finalist…

So fingers crossed!

~ Cristian