What beautiful writing. I spent a weekend in Skagen in 1983 when I was 17. It was an amazing place. Thanks so much for bringing some treasured memories back.
That’s v kind. Thank you. The light is something incredibly special there. Particularly late summer. I need to try and capture something of that in the future perhaps.
I had a Minolta SLR and I was taking images on slides back then, much easier to show groups of people where I’d been. I seem to remember there was some sort of artists group there in the 1800’s because of the special light?
I’ve scanned quite a few that I’ve found from my family over the years, fixing them a bit in post. They gather dust and that impacts their quality. Unfortunately, my grandmother destroyed my grandfather’s photos in a fit of despair after his death. He had developed his own photos and, according to my father, was very proficient. Unfortunately, I only have four or five pictures that he took.
I used to love sitting in the dark as a child, family and friends gathered around, watching the screen on slide evenings. Instagram doesn’t have that same community! The last time I looked at slides at a party was in the early 90s, maybe 1993, and I was studying in Norway. A Portuguese friend, whose father was an architect, showed architectural photos to a group of us as we sat drinking tea and eating cake, my flat mate had made. I only just remembered that evening as I was replying to you! Funny that.
Yep good memories. I need to dig my slides out again. I spent 12 months in Denmark as a 17 year old exchange student. It was a very significant year. Bit like you I reckon the last time I really did a slide show was a long time ago, would have been in the late 80s? I wonder if the extra work and care in taking and seeing these images made them feel more valuable and significant to us? Now with digital images, I think the currency has been a bit diminished maybe. But then again our ability to get some reasonable pics with a phone that’s always with us documents our life a bit more.
Sure, phones win out don’t they. But there is something special about slides. I don’t think our projector works though. Where did you live in Denmark? I lived in Copenhagen but left in the late 90s. I regretted leaving immensely, but family and work keeps me in Sweden. I’ve been here for over twenty-six years. My wife’s brother lives in Odense, so we do go back and I still listen to the news everyday. If I ever end up on my own the plan is to move to somewhere on Fyn (or France!).
I looked at all the sheep on your feed. My wife would approve. She’s obsessed with wool and spends all her time working with textiles. I think it’s because she grew up in Iceland where there are so many sheep!
I lived in Jutland in a small place called Vinderup, sort of between Skive, Struer and Holstebro. Gee this has got my brain working. My first 2 weeks in Denmark were spent in Odense at a language school for exchange students and I was completely blown away by the age, history and heritage of Denmark and Scandinavia. Coming from Australia it was just mind bending. Living in a rural community in Denmark was just the best for me. Most exchange students went to cities. I lived on a farm for 3 months so the whole farming thing was so interesting. I got dropped in the deep end with learning Danish, my first host family were farmers where the parents didn’t speak English. It was a bit daunting but it set me up for such a meaningful year where I attended school, the last six months of Realskolen at Vinderup and then six months at Struer Statsgymnasium, where I did all the class work and written assessment in Danish. What’s the new buzzword for that, nueroplasticity? Anyway, thanks for your great writing about Skagen Jon, and for prompting me to drag up some of my own recollections and for this great convo. We are passionate wool producers, running merino sheep, it is such a magnificent natural fibre. All power to your wool loving wife!
Yes, Peter Krøyer is the famous artist. You would recognise his famous paining of the beach for sure.
My father took slides too. I loved the feel of the paper card and yellow boxes they came in. Do you know The Anonymous Project? Google it if you get a chance and look at all the magical snapshots they have found on forgotten slides.
I used to be able buy slide films with the processing pre paid, so I would finish the film and just sent it off and wait. The anticipation was awesome. There’s something about the colours in a slide image to me, they just seem a bit more true? Thanks for the heads up. I’ll check it out. My father took a lot of slides too and in later years he got some turned into prints.
What an evocative pleasure that was, I felt nostalgic for an experience I didn't even have, wonderful. I'd say that came out as a delicate masterpiece :)
I came upon your beautiful article through the restacking note of the Bard of Tysoe. And let me tell you what a pleasure it was reading it. In special to realise through the reading how different my summer holidays were from yours. I also come from a country by the sea and as such my summer holidays were in the south, at the sea where life couldn’t be more free and easy. Spent as my aunt’s house, the summer holidays meant freedom to me. Freedom from the city where I normally lived and from my parent’s house. I could do everything I wanted. It was simply heaven, a feeling that I don’t get from yours in your post. The same goes for your acquaintance with photography. Through the camera of your father. My parents never owned a camera or knew how to photograph. As simple people, lower middle class, camera’s was a luxurious thing. A thing for the rich. The only camera I remember that we had was a plastic Agfa. One that worked with a 126 film and my mother used to take photos of me and my brothers when we had our birthdays. Isn’t it amazing that despite such different lives, we hold the same attraction for a medium that is universal: photography.
Thank you Luz, that’s a wonderful comment and I’m so appreciative that you took the time to read and think about my piece. I’m glad it spoke to you. Yes, there’s somethingh special about the past. The funny thing is, I was incredibly frustratedf with the piece because I couldn’t quite get it to convey how it felt to hold Kodachrome slides. As a child, I remember the roughness of the card-paper wrapped around the slide film, and how magical they were. When I think of the 1970s, when I grew up, it’s always Kodachrome slides, a slightly golden tinge to everything, my father snapping away with a very unwieldly camera that terrified me. And I get frustrated when I don’t feel that my writing can convey and carry that.
You’re welcome! You don’t need at all to be frustrated with the fact that the idea of the kodakchrome didn’t surface from your text. I think that from a literary point of view, you just wrote a beautiful short story. The mentioning of the kodakchrome wasn’t necessary in my opinion as this would be the end ‘product’ from you having made a photograph from your father. What is of relevance and you stated very well there was the first steps of making a photo by yourself, following the instructions of your father. If the Kodachrome would come good or bad, is another aspect of the whole story but the story doesn’t need it to come out. You succeeded beautifully in transmitting the hesitations of a young person when having a real camera in his hand and this was the point as I see it.
My mum taught me to use a camera… – nothing too posh: but she always had one with her, in her handbag; and taught me the important stuff like knowing where the light was coming from… and having fun! It’s not that the end result wasn’t important, just that the moment mattered more… – and I still feel that little quiver of excitement every time my finger is on the shutter button; and it’s why, alongside all the EXIF stuff there’s my emotion at the time; my reason for taking it; all of which I usually remember, decades later.
I taught myself the technical stuff: probably because my mum knew I could, and would. She died five years ago tomorrow… – and there was still a camera in there. I don’t know what happened to the film, sadly.
Thank you; and I’m sorry some memories are harder than others: but the contrast – so beautifully portrayed here – makes the good ones shine brighter. Thank you for reminding me of some of the very best ones.
What beautiful writing. I spent a weekend in Skagen in 1983 when I was 17. It was an amazing place. Thanks so much for bringing some treasured memories back.
That’s v kind. Thank you. The light is something incredibly special there. Particularly late summer. I need to try and capture something of that in the future perhaps.
I had a Minolta SLR and I was taking images on slides back then, much easier to show groups of people where I’d been. I seem to remember there was some sort of artists group there in the 1800’s because of the special light?
I’ve scanned quite a few that I’ve found from my family over the years, fixing them a bit in post. They gather dust and that impacts their quality. Unfortunately, my grandmother destroyed my grandfather’s photos in a fit of despair after his death. He had developed his own photos and, according to my father, was very proficient. Unfortunately, I only have four or five pictures that he took.
I used to love sitting in the dark as a child, family and friends gathered around, watching the screen on slide evenings. Instagram doesn’t have that same community! The last time I looked at slides at a party was in the early 90s, maybe 1993, and I was studying in Norway. A Portuguese friend, whose father was an architect, showed architectural photos to a group of us as we sat drinking tea and eating cake, my flat mate had made. I only just remembered that evening as I was replying to you! Funny that.
Yep good memories. I need to dig my slides out again. I spent 12 months in Denmark as a 17 year old exchange student. It was a very significant year. Bit like you I reckon the last time I really did a slide show was a long time ago, would have been in the late 80s? I wonder if the extra work and care in taking and seeing these images made them feel more valuable and significant to us? Now with digital images, I think the currency has been a bit diminished maybe. But then again our ability to get some reasonable pics with a phone that’s always with us documents our life a bit more.
Sure, phones win out don’t they. But there is something special about slides. I don’t think our projector works though. Where did you live in Denmark? I lived in Copenhagen but left in the late 90s. I regretted leaving immensely, but family and work keeps me in Sweden. I’ve been here for over twenty-six years. My wife’s brother lives in Odense, so we do go back and I still listen to the news everyday. If I ever end up on my own the plan is to move to somewhere on Fyn (or France!).
I looked at all the sheep on your feed. My wife would approve. She’s obsessed with wool and spends all her time working with textiles. I think it’s because she grew up in Iceland where there are so many sheep!
I lived in Jutland in a small place called Vinderup, sort of between Skive, Struer and Holstebro. Gee this has got my brain working. My first 2 weeks in Denmark were spent in Odense at a language school for exchange students and I was completely blown away by the age, history and heritage of Denmark and Scandinavia. Coming from Australia it was just mind bending. Living in a rural community in Denmark was just the best for me. Most exchange students went to cities. I lived on a farm for 3 months so the whole farming thing was so interesting. I got dropped in the deep end with learning Danish, my first host family were farmers where the parents didn’t speak English. It was a bit daunting but it set me up for such a meaningful year where I attended school, the last six months of Realskolen at Vinderup and then six months at Struer Statsgymnasium, where I did all the class work and written assessment in Danish. What’s the new buzzword for that, nueroplasticity? Anyway, thanks for your great writing about Skagen Jon, and for prompting me to drag up some of my own recollections and for this great convo. We are passionate wool producers, running merino sheep, it is such a magnificent natural fibre. All power to your wool loving wife!
Yes, Peter Krøyer is the famous artist. You would recognise his famous paining of the beach for sure.
My father took slides too. I loved the feel of the paper card and yellow boxes they came in. Do you know The Anonymous Project? Google it if you get a chance and look at all the magical snapshots they have found on forgotten slides.
I used to be able buy slide films with the processing pre paid, so I would finish the film and just sent it off and wait. The anticipation was awesome. There’s something about the colours in a slide image to me, they just seem a bit more true? Thanks for the heads up. I’ll check it out. My father took a lot of slides too and in later years he got some turned into prints.
Brilliant writing. I felt those moments, happy days. So similar to ours. If I may choose a title for this essay I’d go for “it’s just a picture”.
Great suggestion! 🙏 Thanks. I wish I still had that camera. I’m not sure where it ended up.
What an evocative pleasure that was, I felt nostalgic for an experience I didn't even have, wonderful. I'd say that came out as a delicate masterpiece :)
Thank you Jonathan, I’m glad it struck a chord. That’s very kind of you.
I came upon your beautiful article through the restacking note of the Bard of Tysoe. And let me tell you what a pleasure it was reading it. In special to realise through the reading how different my summer holidays were from yours. I also come from a country by the sea and as such my summer holidays were in the south, at the sea where life couldn’t be more free and easy. Spent as my aunt’s house, the summer holidays meant freedom to me. Freedom from the city where I normally lived and from my parent’s house. I could do everything I wanted. It was simply heaven, a feeling that I don’t get from yours in your post. The same goes for your acquaintance with photography. Through the camera of your father. My parents never owned a camera or knew how to photograph. As simple people, lower middle class, camera’s was a luxurious thing. A thing for the rich. The only camera I remember that we had was a plastic Agfa. One that worked with a 126 film and my mother used to take photos of me and my brothers when we had our birthdays. Isn’t it amazing that despite such different lives, we hold the same attraction for a medium that is universal: photography.
Looking forward to your next beautiful story.
Thank you Luz, that’s a wonderful comment and I’m so appreciative that you took the time to read and think about my piece. I’m glad it spoke to you. Yes, there’s somethingh special about the past. The funny thing is, I was incredibly frustratedf with the piece because I couldn’t quite get it to convey how it felt to hold Kodachrome slides. As a child, I remember the roughness of the card-paper wrapped around the slide film, and how magical they were. When I think of the 1970s, when I grew up, it’s always Kodachrome slides, a slightly golden tinge to everything, my father snapping away with a very unwieldly camera that terrified me. And I get frustrated when I don’t feel that my writing can convey and carry that.
My best wishes to you.
Hi Jon,
You’re welcome! You don’t need at all to be frustrated with the fact that the idea of the kodakchrome didn’t surface from your text. I think that from a literary point of view, you just wrote a beautiful short story. The mentioning of the kodakchrome wasn’t necessary in my opinion as this would be the end ‘product’ from you having made a photograph from your father. What is of relevance and you stated very well there was the first steps of making a photo by yourself, following the instructions of your father. If the Kodachrome would come good or bad, is another aspect of the whole story but the story doesn’t need it to come out. You succeeded beautifully in transmitting the hesitations of a young person when having a real camera in his hand and this was the point as I see it.
See you around!
Thanks. I appreciate the encouragement.
Oh, Jon: what a wonderful read!
My mum taught me to use a camera… – nothing too posh: but she always had one with her, in her handbag; and taught me the important stuff like knowing where the light was coming from… and having fun! It’s not that the end result wasn’t important, just that the moment mattered more… – and I still feel that little quiver of excitement every time my finger is on the shutter button; and it’s why, alongside all the EXIF stuff there’s my emotion at the time; my reason for taking it; all of which I usually remember, decades later.
I taught myself the technical stuff: probably because my mum knew I could, and would. She died five years ago tomorrow… – and there was still a camera in there. I don’t know what happened to the film, sadly.
Thank you; and I’m sorry some memories are harder than others: but the contrast – so beautifully portrayed here – makes the good ones shine brighter. Thank you for reminding me of some of the very best ones.
Jag hoppas att du hade en bra helg.