Rask

Textures of vicinity

By Jonas Rask

Today is day 7 of February 2022. It marks the first full week of our KAGE202202 theme. Contrary to almost all of my KAGE colleagues I chose not to set any limitations for my project, neither in gear nor context or content. Well, it’s not entirely accurate, since I actually stated in my “Letter of intent” that I would try and return to a time when my photography wasn’t as restrictive as I felt it had become.

Obviously this “battle-plan” has a lot to do with me not being an official ambassador for Fujifilm anymore. I’m not even sure that me leaving the program changes anything in terms of my creativity, but I will tell you this..

The past month I have felt more visually creative than I have done in last 5 years.

It’s not that I disliked being an ambassador. I loved it. I loved almost every part of it. But what people need to understand is that when you do such a thing at the level that I was suddenly doing it at, you suddenly feel limited in what you can express. Even though no one has ever told me to do things in a certain way, I couldn’t help but feel pressure coming from within myself.

The pressure to always “1-up” what I did the day before.
The pressure to always put out better writing than the post that came before what I was currently writing.
The pressure to grow and stay relevant on various social media outlets.

All while trying to juggle my full time profession and my family and friends.

How I had the surplus energy to keep at it for 7 years I will never know. But I was growing tired. And 2 years of pandemic isolation didn’t exactly help.

So I did the only sensible thing.

I stopped and took a good long hard look at the whole situation. I acted on it, and it was definitely in due time.

Let me ask you a question.

Have you ever walked outside, stopped, faced the sun, head tilted slightly backwards, closed your eyes and taken a long deep breath? Have you?

Then you know exactly how these last 6 weeks have felt in regards to my photographic identity and creativity. I won’t say that I’m free, since I was never bound by anything - But I’m starting to regain some of the pure joy that made me do this in the first place.

My pressure is off me.

So this past week I’ve been documenting my everyday doings. However small they might have been. Just like I did when I first started photography. I’ve worn a camera all day, everyday like I always do, and I’ve shot left and right. Just because it was fun and because it’s what I love to do.

I have been feeding my own instagram channel with various documentary/street styled images since that’s basically what I’ve enjoyed shooting. But tonight I noticed this tiny little plant that Christine has put on our dining room table. I was so drawn to its minuscule size and texture that I wanted to capture it.

The following 10 minutes I shot 10 shots within an immediate vicinity of 10 meters

This is my new beginning.

“Textures of Vicinity”

All images shot on Fujifilm X-Pro3 and the XF80mm f/2.8 Macro

Some of these images might be well suited for background use, so I’ve packed them all up for you to download without watermarks in full resolution. You can download the .zip file HERE

Reflect - Regret or Regain?

AN ESSAY (hardly) BY JONAS RASK

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The inspiration for my little series of images and words is the image of Kevins lovely daughter to the right.
The visual metaphor of reflection was something that I wanted to explore a little bit more than just doing the standard puddle photography that I started out doing back when I started photography.

I think it’s quite important, now more than ever, at the beginning of the end of this pandemic, that we all start to reflect on the past 14 months.

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We’re slowly making our way out of the crazy times of the past 14 months. In Denmark slowly, but securely. I suspect, not unlike in many other countries around the world. But there are definitely still those countries who struggle. Where the pandemic just simply won't let go. Like the giant Boxing Day Tsunami many years ago it keeps sweeping back and forth in a multitude of waves that gets bigger and meaner with every passing number.

We’re so lucky in this part of the world. We bitch and moan about isolation, solitude, lack of open pubs, restaurants, museums etc. Lack of holiday plans for the summer. It reeks of entitlement. A society that is now relying so heavily on luxury amendments that being “forced” to spend time at home with the people that are supposed to be “loved ones” has taken a toll on mental health. At least that’s how I experience it after a year of sitting in my consultation. Isolation sucks, I get it. But why not use that time to reflect on what is REALLY important? Reflect on what really gives life its meaning and purpose.

Beers and Art are great, soccer matches and fine dining too…. but I have a vague suspicion that those things are not the subject of a dying mans last words!

I can honestly say that up until 2020 I had become absent from my connected family life. I spent loads of time at work, loads more time on my own fulfilling a desire to become the best photographer in the world (whatever the hell that means!) - Travelling with businessconnections, drinking till the sun rose. It was damn fun, that’s for sure. It was luxurious! - I have a vague suspicion that those experiences will not form my last words!

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I missed out.

I missed out on closeness with my family. I missed out on quiet Saturdays in my garden. I missed out on putting my helping hands on my daughters mathproblems. I took for granted the insane amount of work my wife put into our family. I missed out on sooo many things. I had become comfortable, and my desire for “more” meant that I neglected to see that I already have it all!

When I reflect on the past years I don’t have any regrets. I’m so thankful of all the experiences that I’ve had. But in reflection, the past 14 months have definitely showed me that I needed to regain my perspective of what’s important in my life.

Truth is, I’m happier than I’ve ever been - and I will do my utmost to make the foundation of my happiness a permanent change in priorities.

/J

All shots in this series seek to explore the visual metaphor of reflections. The images are shot as symbiotic pairs. One on digital medium and the other on analog film.

I used the X-Pro3 with the XF35mm f/2 and the Contax G2 with the Zeiss 90mm f/2.8. I shot Kodak Vision 3 250D that I home developed in Cinestill CS41

DEFINITION 39 | “They played colourful music LOUD!”

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Words and images by Jonas Dyhr Rask

Amidst the now normalised depressing news regarding the pandemic, the politics and the slow depressing spiral of apathy that follows suit, I read something that hit me a little harder than all of the above.

It started at around age 3, I think. My dad would put the record on and I would be completely mesmerised by the sounds that hit me.
That was to continue all through my childhood and by age 13 I had heard that particular album with 4 people bathed in bright multicoloured, yet shadowy mysterious, lights so many times that I knew it note for note.

It was the sole reason why my only wish for my confirmation at age 14 was a red electric guitar with a Peavey amplifier.
All I wanted to play the colourful, yet heavy sounds of that album. As danish guitar virtuoso Søren Andersen so delicately put it yesterday - “They played colourful music LOUD!”

It shaped my youth.

It shaped my life.

HE shaped my life.

May you forever R.I.P
Mr. Eddie Van Halen.

And just like their music, I now do my photography bathed in bright multicoloured, yet shadowy mysterious, lights. Just like the cover of that epic 1978 album “VH”

All shots on X100V and X-Pro3 | XF35mm f/1.4

DEFINITION 013 | THAT WHICH MATTERS MOST

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BY JONAS DYHR RASK

In definition 005 I wrote about my day job as a medical professional. I’m an M.D. G.P.

But I don’t want to write about my profession again. I did that already, and nothing has really changed. CoVid19 is just another disease, another problem I need to solve, another task I need to complete. It is, as they say, business as usual. 

But something else has changed. Something unrelated to my profession, yet so intimately linked to it. 

The world around me has changed. CoVid19 prompts for swift actions on a global scale. They are not medical actions, they are social actions, and as such they have social consequences rather than medical. 

These lockdown periods are sweeping away the feet on which many people balance their livelihood as photographers and creatives. 
It’s not the disease, it’s the means by which the world has chosen to try and stop it. 

It’s definitely the right path to tread, but that doesn’t make it less filled with sharp rocks and spiky thorns.

This disease will end up costing more than we as a global society can possibly fathom, but it will also bring us something that a lot of us have possibly forgotten about in our race towards our-end-of-life.

I cannot remember the last time I have felt so intimately linked to my wife and my children. I cannot remember how long it has been since I had such a deep worry in my gut regarding the health of my parents.

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I’ve always prided myself as being a family man, but this past month of lockdown have shown me that there’s a layer above this. A layer of absolute intimacy in every moment spent with those that you love. A true appreciation of what I am so fortunate to have, and what can so easily be lost. 

Economies will crumble, jobs will end.
But that which bring meaning to my life is right here, right now. Right beside me. 

And that’s really all I need. 

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DEFINITION 005 | ALWAYS COMFORT

BY JONAS DYHR RASK

“To cure sometimes, to relieve often, to comfort always”
— Dr. Edward Trudeau

I knew since I was around 15 years old.
Because of my mothers occupation, the dinner table discussions always seemed to turn into discussions of healthcare issues.
It moulded me. It directed me.

It was different times back then. I could actually go visit my mother when she had her shifts. It was so fascinating for a kid like me. The Logistics. The sector. The staff.

But most of all - The patients. Their destined temporary habitat. Their transition from healthy to sick and hopefully into recovery.

I felt the need to help them. I wanted to be there for them. I wanted to hear their stories.

It was a long path to tread. Sometimes steep, sometimes bendy, sometimes downhill.

For 15 years it was life defining. My life. My present, and my future.

It was not only a path of education, but a path of developing my identity. During my walk along the path I became a father, a husband and a home owner. I didn’t look back. Only forward. I kept pushing.

I succeeded. I saw it through!

Not to be able to tell stories, but to experience them. To witness the absolute miracle of new born life. To experience the absolute horror of terminal illness. To experience everything in between.

I am a trusted firsthand witness to the life of many.

Always comforting.

Often relieving.

Sometimes curing.

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All images shot on the Fujifilm X100V