Landscapes in the living room
A room with a door onto other rooms. A closed window. Outside emptiness. In the room, contours appear in the darkness: Rises, falls, light refractions, hollows, depths and highlights. Light that surrounds. Light that is created in the darkness. The walls recede, widen, the corners of the room dissolve.
Lush darkness. The room disappears. A landscape is created. In it, more landscapes lie: mountains, plains, faraway cities, motorway networks, jagged regions. They spread out, map themselves onto the dim area of the room, etch themselves into the walls, multiply and get lost in an endlessly fanned out, dimly-lit room.
Behind the door is darkness, behind the window is a black emptiness – in the instant that the photograph was taken, and in the view that the photographer took in.
Velvety darkness and an endless depth in the room. A mise en scéne that is revived every year. That makes the room disappear, makes a place for lost pictures. Pictures of longing. Landscape pictures. Darkness pictures. Light landscapes. Light that creates narrow contours, highlights, individual spectrums, just so that the floating view can find its way in that endless room landscape.