In a hectic world where time is measured exactly and partitioned carefully, boredom has become uncommon. Days are planned precisely, work is scheduled tightly, and everyone is his own Scrum master in the evening. Not many hobbies require as much patience as photography: Visiting the same locations over and over, waiting for the right moments repeatedly, or: getting that one picture of a mid-air dragonfly.
The scene: A large glade within the swamp, stretching under the moon-lit sky. The actors: Multiple deer, hidden between the trees, rutting season has begun; a group of motionless birches, leaves turning yellow. The director: Fog, shaping the landscape, constantly changing the stage.
After three days of constant rain, grey weather and grey water, the skies are mostly clear. The sun is slowly approaching the horizon above the vast ocean. Despite low tide, large waves crash at the coast line and the water is shining in cyan, teal, and turquoise – unexpected, here in Denmark. And there are youths in front of waves. I’ve photographed people rarely, especially strangers, but this time I approach them and ask for their permission to take some pictures. It brings more joy than expected. Especially when they see the pictures afterwards and their eyes open widely, a slight grin on their face. My favorite pictures are the ones that show their facial expressions in the midst of the raging waters (not shown here).
Sometimes, nature can be too beautiful to comprehend. The birds causally sail the uplift above the ocean, the forces of water and wind no human structure can withhold, and the dazzling dark night sky scattered with uncountably many stars. In the end, human life is rather insignificant within the great universe we are in. Even if we manage to save this little planet for a while, our solar system will die eventually.