A Playful Presence

I was curious, and I knew what I wanted to do: photograph them, together and individually, and find stories in whatever emerged. What I didn’t know was what kind of pictures I would get. At the same time, they were trying to find their own place within the group and sense the tensions and expectations that come with nudity – both in themselves and in the others.

Because nudity was not simply about taking off our clothes. It was also about having the courage to stand naked in front of the camera and in front of me – to allow yourself to be seen as a human being.

That first meeting became more important than we perhaps understood at the time. It gave us a chance to feel each other out, and perhaps to discover sensual expectations that were already there, spoken or still unknown. Expectations that could simply exist without anyone having to decide what they meant.

It started after the sauna, with pickles and crème fraîche as a playful warm-up. Then we moved out onto the rocks. There was dancing, laughter, touch and an exploration that none of us could really predict.

Louna describes how natural it felt to be naked in front of a camera for the first time. She didn’t have to think about whether she would look beautiful or how she would appear in the pictures. She trusted me to take care of that part. Being on the island, close to the water and surrounded by nature, made her feel like part of the landscape.

One of the women chose not to show her face. At the same time, she really threw herself into the experience. She tested, explored and embraced whatever was happening, without knowing where it would lead. It reminded me that vulnerability has different boundaries and different expressions. You can dare a lot and still want to keep something for yourself.

Johan describes how the nudity made everything else fall away. On the rocks, only the human remained – sorrow, joy, anger, playfulness and song. Our expressions began to connect and reinforce each other, until it almost felt as if we had become one body. Afterwards, the evening continued with singing in the sauna.

For Mathias, there was something almost childlike in the playfulness and curiosity, while at the same time the encounter had a distinctly adult and sensual dimension. It was that contrast that made the experience unusual. He described how the exploration did not come from one person, but grew between us.

We explored, felt our way forward and read each other. Closeness, playfulness, uncertainty and longing were all allowed to exist at the same time. None of us really knew what would happen next, and that became part of the encounter itself.

I was there to see them.
Sometimes, perhaps, to see something in them that they had not yet seen themselves.

And somewhere along the way, it felt as though something had been decided for the rest of the week.

Not spoken. No one decided anything.

But something had opened.