There are hundreds and thousands of photos on my hard drive piled up over the years. Many years. If I’m about to count, 2024 will make it 21 years since I started doing photography. Dang. That’s quite some experience.
I have always admired people with long history in honing a certain craft, and now thinking for myself that I have been into photography for 20 years, I don’t know. It sounds significant.
Most of my images have never and will never see the light of the sun. Meaning, they will never get published or seen. Mostly they’re private, exploration, trying out, memorising, marking, a habit.
Love. They’re love.
Not every photoshoot intended to serve as brand photography for my own personal brand makes it’s way through. Sometimes, the lighting is not good, the mood is not right, myself is not looking the best. And sometimes, I just like capturing everything in between - preparation for work, studio musings, inspiring days, hours with doing clean ups and furniture reorganising. It’s those days when everything is possible, nothing is mandatory, mornings are ordinary, relaxed and with no pressure. Those moments that don’t get published on Instagram. Moments of quiet.
It’s like experimenting with sourdough cinnamon rolls for the first time, or re-potting a plant, cleaning the cutlery drawer, walking around the house, lighting a candle and thinking about whether to put some new photographs on the walls and whether the rain is going to be falling tomorrow. Slow. Calm. Peaceful. Creative. The feminine way of passive activity and infusing the cells with relaxation. The one before action. A never ending cycle.
This is one of those stories. Captured is the studio life only a month after we have moved to our new house in the countryside at the end of 2023.
I hope it sparks some imagination and infuses you with subtle inspiration of the messiness of new beginnings.
Marina
