Wie symbolisch! Neuerdings muss jeder arme Regenbogen als Symbol herhalten, und überhaupt sind da draußen gerade sehr viele Symbole und stärkende Metaphern unterwegs. Lichter am Ende von Tunneln, endlich Land sehen, Schimmer am Horizont. Ein Regenbogen sollte doch einfach mal ein Regenbogen sein dürfen, prächtig, perfekt, ein Wunder! Andererseits ist die Geschichte von Gottes Pakt mit den Menschen nach der Sintflut einfach zu gut: "Das ist das Zeichen des Bundes, den ich gemacht habe zwischen mir und euch und allen lebendigen Seelen." Manchmal auch doppelt: zwei Regenbogen. Für jede lebendige Seele am Feldrand einen . . .
Heartbeats by Juuso Westerlund. Heartbeats, is a photographic, creative response to the experience of watching my children grow up. Each photograph dense with concentrated personal significance, the series as a whole unfolds as a collection of memories. Heartbeats is an expression of love where words fail. The photographs are poems, which I didnât know how to write. Poems of boyhood, longing, innocence, vulnerability, mortality.â The work seek to address questions that are fundamental to human experience, the answers to which we might have lost touch with as weâve become older â âWhat does childhood mean and how does it feel?â
Iâm older now than my father was when he died of alcoholism at the age of 41. At the time I was nine years old. The same age as my two sons are now. I only have vague memories of him, which are not that pleasant. He wasnât a bad person but he just wasnât a dad for me either. Maybe he didnât know how. His own relationship with his dad had been very problematic. I remember crying when my mother told me about his death, but that was the only time. I felt numb. I didnât feel anything. As harsh as it may sound, I guess he didnât really mean much to me.
I have documented my children since they were born. I have photographed the everyday. The recognisable and intimate moments that all parents witness. My project can be seen as coloured memories, a visual diary. A way to pause the time to help me to respect the moment. To help me not to forget, as I have forgotten my own childhood memories with my father. Susan Sontag wrote: âAll photographs are memento mori. To take a photograph is to participate in another personâs mortality, vulnerability, mutability. Precisely by slicing out this moment and freezing it, all photographs testify to timeâs relentless melt.â This is my way to stop the clock and keep these moments alive. Although Iâm documenting my sonsâ childhood, it is also my memories that Iâm salvaging, for