Dressing. Undressing. Mornings. Pulling a sweater over his head. Getting an arm into a sleeve. Wedging the other arm into the pullover. Then, even though it always slips out, pulling it into the sleeve and grabbing the little hand. Then pulling the hand into the narrow sleeve opening.
Evenings. Taking off the pullover. Putting on the pyjama top. Putting on the pyjama bottoms. Little hands pulling on the blouse. Teeth biting into the backs of hands. The little body goes limp. The body rears up. The body twists and turns. The hands, both arms, legs, mouth and the little teeth are everywhere and nowhere to be held.
Dressing. Undressing. Pulling. He pulls. She pulls, tugs, shoves. He twists, slips away from her hands, runs into her arms, he holds on tight, wants to be held, pushes himself away. Fists clench, hands grab each other, head touch. Everyday choreography. And knowing that it’s like this, that one grabs, struggles, surrounds, is mother and child.
The father watches and picks up the camera. For him, the view is an evening ceremony that shows him that he has a living son, and that his wife looks after him. He photographs a daily ritual between mother and child. That entanglement of intimacy and distance, of countless actions where bodies relate to each other, roles are tried out and re-established every day.
This private photograph opens up the view of a daily ritual in a familiar world. The actors stick to their roles, the temporal sequences are fixed – in this intimate world of daily routines, the observer peers in.