evading the city
Pivdennyi Bridge - Ukraine / Kentmere Pan 100
Photography Joachim Jorgensen
“once the unknown seemed so charming and romantic, it now feels monolithic and consuming.” photographer Joachim Jorgensen discusses how a year of lockdown has made him reflect on his practice, and transformed it
Photography for me was always a healthy escape. It was a way of zoning out and rediscovering the beauty in the world when you may have lost sight of it. For the second that you have that viewfinder to your eye, it’s just you and whatever it is that you are looking at, and the reason you hold for feeling the compulsion to immortalise it. Nothing else exists outside of that. It’s romantic, it’s therapeutic and its a process. It’s travelling, it’s locomotive and with analogue film it’s magical enough to remain unknown for a short while. I think this is something that all photographers can identify with regardless of creed or category. As with any art, it’s a highly personal experience to produce.
Airport shuttle - Copenhagen / Kodak T-Max 400
Exmoor / Kodak Tri-X 100
It’s impossible for me not to draw parallels between the inner workings of my own mind and the way that I see my work. My opinion of myself can shift on a daily basis, I can be knocked off kilt by a question from a stranger that I perceived myself to have answered incorrectly. I can dwell on this for days or weeks, re-visiting the minutiae and punishing myself thereafter. In these times, I perceive myself to be impossible to be around, often resulting in self withdrawal. The same can be said of the way that I look at my own work. I can finish scanning a fresh roll, and decide that it’s bound for an auto-da-fé. I pick apart something that I thought was going to be my masterpiece, but instead it’s underexposed, focus-less and the thing that I thought was spatial about the frame is really non-existent. I proceed to put down the camera and resolve to never release another shutter. I withdraw.
Norwegian fjords / Kodak T-Max 400
Norwegian fjords / Kodak T-Max 400
Central Kiev - Ukraine / Kentmere Pan 100
Kew, London - UK / Kodak Tri-X 400
After allowing time to pass, and throwing myself into another activity or relationship or distraction, and having had that meet a similar end, I’ll be drawn into my old negatives. Skimming through them, the joy of exploration and old feelings return. Dramatically, a small detail reveals itself in a frame that was previously indifferent. The reason I stopped with it all to begin with seems trivial. The desire to go out into people, streets and noise reappears and that signal in my mind that tells me to create returns in power. There’s a renewed impetus and maybe even a new direction. The ouroboros reveals itself.
South Downs, Sussex - UK / Kodak Tri-X 100
As a photographer, stumbling through the bleakness of the pandemic having had one too many, introspect feels like a rearview. You no longer have this compass to re-centre yourself. It’s like you are driving through an unknown city on your way somewhere; you had your focus and destination but the further away from the lights and smoke that you get, the more you realise that it’s just headlights shining ten feet feet in front of you, and you don’t actually have a fucking clue where you are going or what’s coming—you’re just reacting. Its scary to be humbled like that. When all the noise has been diffused, it’s a stark realisation that the distractions actually helped guide you for so long. When once the unknown seemed so charming and romantic, it now feels monolithic and consuming. A void.
Bus commute, Soho, London - UK / Kodak Tri-X 100
Bus commute, Soho, London - UK / Kodak Tri-X 100
I have learned a lot, in many ways, since the world changed in March. I would not have been able to write this piece a year ago, as I was too distracted to give weight to any correlation between the way I approach photography, the electrics in my mind and the process of it all. But it’s important to remember, at least for me, that it is just a crossing. An odyssey. A process. True ardour for a subject will always return regardless of internal dialogue, political climate or a global pandemic. The great thing about driving away from a city is that sometimes it becomes easier to hear yourself think.
Train to London - UK / Kodak T-Max 400
Decent to Kiev - Ukraine / Kentmere Pan 100
I guess what I want to get across is that this year is like any other year in that its a continuation of your life. If I can offer anything at the culmination of this piece it’s that instead of dwelling on the anxiety of not knowing what’s coming, realise that it’s easier to hear when it’s serenely quiet. The opportunity to listen and be introspective is a blessing. There is peace to be found in nothingness. We spend so much of our lives on the way to things that maybe it would be nice to enjoy the stillness for a little while. Or at least that’s something that I’m holding on to for now.
Norway / Ilford 3200
