I have often described my work as melancholic. When I look up the meaning of Melancholia in the “Oxford Languages” on the www it’s defined as a feeling of deep sadness and severe depression. The exact meaning has changed over the years. However, I feel it’s not so much ‘just’ depression and mere sadness, but sadness that comes from a feeling of beauty, vanishing. A form of nostalgia, a feeling of sadness over something, anything, that once was, and / or never will be. If you can’t feel beauty you’ll never be able to feel melancholic. There’s a certain healthy aspect to it, unlike with depression.
I’ve also mentioned Weltschmerz before. It denotes a deep sadness about the inadequacy or imperfection of the world, as noted by the Brothers Grimm. Weltschmerz. A feeling of melancholy and world-weariness, again according to the Oxford Languages. My work has probably more to do with Weltschmerz than with Melancholia. I don’t feel at home in the world. I love life very much but I always have the feeling there’s nowhere I truly belong. I just don’t quite understand it, the ‘way the world works’ so to say.
Work, so you’re able to live somewhere, pay your bills, make sure you make ends meet, try and have fun in between (and during work of course also) but this slavery of the modern system, in a way it’s choking really. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE to work, I LOVE my jobs, I hope to never retire, but the feeling that you HAVE to work at least 40 hours a week to be able to pay your bills, that’s utterly ridiculous. There’s more to life than work and we invented this system…All the buying, consuming, well I could go on forever I guess..wars, starving people on the other hand, the contradictions…Trump…god, that that’s even possible… Sigh, I’m happy to have a camera and a forest…
My landscapes are the worlds I want to flee into. They are my safe havens. Places where I want to be, without being reminded of what the world is like. Often a tad dark, so you can’t find me easily. It’s perhaps like where I used to hide in my head, and still do.
In music I hide in the tones of Max Richter, also quite darkish, but so full of beauty and mesmerisment. It’s where I go when I want to think, and let my mind wander off.
“The voices of the world becoming quieter and fewer”
~ Franz Kafka – The Blue Octavo Notebooks
“When Thomas brought the news that the house I was born in no longer exists
Neither the name, nor the park sloping to the river
I had a dream of return
I was able to fly
And the trees were even higher than in childhood
Because they had been growing during all the years since they had been cut down”
Max Richter – The Trees – The Blue Notebooks
Original text is from the Blue Octavo Notebooks by Franz Kafka