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image by
Cynthia Henebry

I asked Cynthia Henebry if I could post some of her images.
Her answer was that she was thankful for my interest in her work,
but had a hard time navigating through my blog
and was wondering what the theme or narrative was.

Dear Cynthia,

my blog is just a private game that I am playing.
I collect photographs that I like.

This way I neither need money nor storage space, I just need time.
There is no theme, and only at times a hidden/associative narrative.

I am curious about what has happened and what happens in photography.
(Part of grasping something is to handle the matter.)

I tend to post image by image, which is probably contra-productive
to the readability of my blog.

This way I want to slow down the reading process.
And I imitate the way of handling a book:
you have to turn the pages one by one.

For a photographer, it takes a lot of time and effort
to put together a sequence of photographs.

We, the consumers, just scan the images,
and move over to the next excitement.

I have no intentions whatsoever to professionalize my blog in any way.
I will keep it as a visual diary. A playground for words and images.

I am interested in your images of children. “Waking state” is the project I mean.
I hope you will go on with it, until these children will be grown up.

You wrote that you don´t remember your childhood.
I don´t know what exactly you do expect from your memory….

Our minds only show you us fragments of what we have experienced,
though I am sure there is a place in all of us that keeps everything.
We just have a hard time to get to this hidden layer.
Though, it is this layer that directs our lives and actions.

Sometimes photographs reflect parts of what we believe to have forgotten.

We tend to live in the bubble of our age group,
and we neither remember that what has been nor are able to see what will be happening.

And if there is any intersection between the age groups,
there is a lot of strangeness.

They are strange to us,
the younger ones and the older ones.

And there are times
with more than a fleeting encounter between the age groups,
the time when you raise kids,
and the time when your parents start to need you.

I know two little girls, granddaughters of a friend of mine,
and once in a while we spend time together.
I love to observe these girls. Moments of this experience I encountered in your photographs.

The setting these girls grow up is loving and protective.
Still, reality is simply painful at times,
and has already introduced itself to these little persons.

And yes, the world is big and sometimes frightening,
the more so the less you can understand of what you encounter.
The shadow on the wall sometimes turns into a frightful animal.

Picture yourself a wedding: a professional photographer is hired,
and the event, if the photographer is a good one,
is turned to a carbon copy of Julia Roberts and Hugh Grant marrying.

But most of the times, recording our lives stays a do-it-yourself job.
And here we come to the roots of photography,
as I understand it: recording the everyday,
keeping track of the moments of life we want to hold on.

This is what you do: you are observing and keeping track of childhood,
just like proud parents do, but your photographs transfer individual moments into collective ones.