Lack of everything that’s important. I try to think of the “road.” I can’t. I’m utterly exhausted. I’m only really going because of the weather. The prospect of wind, snow, and my flashes on the beach kept me awake. And also I’m scared of a few days of thinking only about Her, and here I’ll have the Baltic. My Baltic. Instead.
“Swell” is a story of a break-up and of unaccepted loneliness. About going back to the same places and memories that we can’t forget. At first it was supposed to be a documentary project about the Baltic Sea. So a plan was drawn up, the form was thought through, and the places to be visited were marked on the map.
The photographs came about during trips together. The last joint photo was taken a little later—and a portrait on a negative ruined by the lab technician. The project no longer mattered, and the outings to the sea were now only an escape from daily life.
Over a dozen color “postcards” have survived from the first trips. They are the beginning of this story. There is no end yet. We’re about half-way.
Every springtime, off the coast of southern Spain, fishermen gather to catch the bluefin tuna—the fiercest and most dangerous variety—using the ancient practice of "Almadraba."
Scattered across Russia lie artifacts of another age, decaying monuments to the Soviet (or human) impulse towards utopia and technologically achieved perfection—dreams of progress that came to a crashing, frozen halt.
, winner of the 2010 European Wildlife Photographer of the Year competition, makes charcoal-like photographs of wild animals in their native habitats, often as their natural environments are radically changing.
Markus Andersen doggedly pursues great images on the streets of his home in Sydney, Australia. The city has become his canvas—he calls it the "belly of the beast."