The edge of the world.

I have a problem with this that photography, when it’s not manipulated, is treated as some holy object. A shrine of truthful evidence when all we really have are a handful of facts and not much of the context. The way I see it, fact is a cornerstone in both truth and fiction. You need some personal idea, a belief to build on and what you build can either be something you still believe in or something that you’ll snicker at later in the evening when you’re alone.

Photography though, I think, has a different characteristic as well. It always gives you both. When you aim for showing your truth based on the given facts, you always get a part of it that’s fiction. Something that didn’t happen but when you watch the photo it’s there. And when you create fiction, directing everything from scenery to people to the light, you can catch (oh, how I hate this word in a photographic context) glimpses of truth leaking through. At times even a profound truth that you can’t really bring out in any other way.

Hello, I’m Nicklas and I’m a subjectivist. Would probably make a horrible photojournalist. This week, this really was my edge of the world.