vi rör oss på lätta fötter, barfota.
i köket börjar det dofta kaffe & värmda
små citronbullar med vallmofrön.
solen faller in över Dina såpade trägolv.
vi bär bara på bomull, inga tyngder då.
väger inget, är bara känsla & det enda måttet
som görs är när Du håller Dina händer
i en liten, öppen ram av fingrar framför ansiktet
och kisar för fokus, allt för att se genom mitt fönster,
~ se vad bilden kommer rymma.
tiden står både alldeles stilla som i valv över oss
och har ändå, visar det sig, rört sig fortare än
någonsin, där utanför, i den andra världen.
det enda som sägs är ord av slaget som
rymmer hela liv. det andra är ordlöst.
arbetet går i invanda rörelser och
solklara cirklar.
what do you see when you look at me?
it’s not all what it seems.. believe me
it’s not all what it seems.. believe me
alice boman sings in her what;
musiken finns bara instoppad i gamla skivfodral,
~ & inuti oss då. vad som varit och vad som
skall bli finns inte till. bara att forma, placera, fånga
de liv som våra ord rymmer, i skepnad av rum.
arrangera vilka saker som än kommer Din väg
sa virginia woolf
och det är det vi gör när vi arbetar.
vad människor sedan kommer se, när de
bläddrar fram det vi gjort, bland magasin-sidor
och flöden bakom en skärm, det finns inte
heller då, kan vi aldrig veta. men vi vet.
vet vad som ryms mellan stegen av bomull och
doften av rostade vallmofrön från köket,
~ & hur mycket som kan viskas i en sol-katts dans
och till & med in emellan orden.
ingenting annat spelar så stor roll då.
och där kan stegen få vara så lätta.
andetagen också. och livet en stund.
doften av rostade vallmofrön från köket,
~ & hur mycket som kan viskas i en sol-katts dans
och till & med in emellan orden.
ingenting annat spelar så stor roll då.
och där kan stegen få vara så lätta.
andetagen också. och livet en stund.
marie, ~ det här är för Dig.
kärleken,
den räcker till fler,
h
image n°1, 3, 4, 5, 6 & 7 taken for kk living mag.’13
location & styling : marie olsson nylander
image n°1 | photo art is me for LW | kimonos & dusters from spell
other details | private, vintage & from here
image n°2 | self portrait in wildfox lennon cloud sweater
the little feather is handpainted for me by sara
© hannah lemholt photography | sara n bergman illustration
//
we move on light feet, barefoot.
the scent of coffee and heated, small lemon buns
with poppy seeds, meanders from the kitchen.
the sun falls in, onto your soaped hardwood floors.
we carry only cotton, no load then.
weigh nothing, just follow feeling, ~ & the only
measuring that’s done, is you holding your hands up;
in a small, open frame of fingers in front of your face,
squinting for focus; all to see through my window,
~ see what the photograph will hold.
time stands perfectly still as in arches above us,
and yet, as it turns out after, has moved faster than ever,
on the outside, in the other world.
the only thing that is said are words of the kind that
encompasses entire lives. everything else is wordless.
work goes in accustomed movements
and circles as clear as daylight.
the music is only there as
tucked into old record sleeves,
~ & inside of us then.
what has been and what shall be, does not exist.
just shape, position, capturing those lives that
our words hold, in the guise of rooms.
arrange whatever pieces come your way
said virginia woolf
and that is what we do when we work.
kärleken,
den räcker till fler,
h
image n°1, 3, 4, 5, 6 & 7 taken for kk living mag.’13
location & styling : marie olsson nylander
image n°1 | photo art is me for LW | kimonos & dusters from spell
other details | private, vintage & from here
image n°2 | self portrait in wildfox lennon cloud sweater
the little feather is handpainted for me by sara
© hannah lemholt photography | sara n bergman illustration
//
we move on light feet, barefoot.
the scent of coffee and heated, small lemon buns
with poppy seeds, meanders from the kitchen.
the sun falls in, onto your soaped hardwood floors.
we carry only cotton, no load then.
weigh nothing, just follow feeling, ~ & the only
measuring that’s done, is you holding your hands up;
in a small, open frame of fingers in front of your face,
squinting for focus; all to see through my window,
~ see what the photograph will hold.
time stands perfectly still as in arches above us,
and yet, as it turns out after, has moved faster than ever,
on the outside, in the other world.
the only thing that is said are words of the kind that
encompasses entire lives. everything else is wordless.
work goes in accustomed movements
and circles as clear as daylight.
the music is only there as
tucked into old record sleeves,
~ & inside of us then.
what has been and what shall be, does not exist.
just shape, position, capturing those lives that
our words hold, in the guise of rooms.
arrange whatever pieces come your way
said virginia woolf
and that is what we do when we work.
what people will then see, when they browse thru
our work, amongst the pages of magazines
and streams behind a screen, does not exist either,
and we can never know. but we do know
what is contained in between the cotton footsteps and
the scent of roasted poppy seeds from the kitchen.
we know how much that can be whispered
in the dancing reflections of the sun
& even in between our words.
not much else matters then.
and there, the steps are allowed to be that light.
and the breaths as well. life too, for a while.
marie, ~ this is for you.
and the love,
it lasts for more of you,
h
