The power of returning

Documenting reality can take many forms. Just as travel photography is usually associated with a change of place and time, documenting one’s close surroundings is mostly about a change of time only.

At first, I didn’t appreciate the power of photographing the same place over and over again.

Usually, when I went to the beach to continue working on my project Shore Goods, I juggled locations in such a way that I wouldn’t repeat any of them.

I searched both near and far, but I never consciously chose the same spot twice, with the deliberate intention of photographing it again after a shorter or longer period of time.

If it happened, it was rather by accident - or simply because those places were close to home, and I didn’t have enough time to go somewhere farther away.
Sometimes, I even felt frustrated or bored by the fact that I was ending up in the same places.

Documenting a change

Until one day, while browsing my archive of coastal photos for some project (more on that soon!), I noticed something - and realized one very obvious, yet also fascinating, thing.

Photos taken at the same locations - say, from the same beach entrance - shot in different seasons and weather conditions, formed intriguing sequences.

Sequences that showed the transformation of those places and landscapes, their growth or decay.
Or, quite the opposite - their stubborn endurance, regardless of the changing environment.

Human interference, the nature of the four seasons, the advancing erosion of the coast, or climate change all ensure that a landscape will never remain the same.

Unintentionally, I managed not only to capture its state at a given moment, but also to record its transformation over a specific period of time.

Suddenly, it turned out that documenting the state of specific places over a longer stretch of time had gained extraordinary value.
And historically, with time, it will gain even more.

These sites may one day cease to exist, and my photographs show their quiet struggle against the passage of time.

Recording your own growth on pictures

They bear witness to changes that unfold gradually, changes that are easy to overlook in short intervals.

Photographing the same places with a certain regularity not only records their story.

It also records my own change and development as a photographer and as a person.

Through a few sequences of photos taken over the years, I can see where I came from, where I am now, and in a sense, I can predict where I’m headed.

They show not only where, but also how I look at reality. And how my perception of reality itself changes and evolves over time.
What catches my attention and intrigues me enough to make me want to preserve it on my camera’s memory card. Recurrent themes and subjects.

Pressing the shutter button is, in a way, a summary of my relationship, one that’s been forming over time, with this specific environment.

It is an entry in a diary, in which I document my relationship with the spaces, objects, and landscapes closest (measured by the distance and emotions) to my heart.

It is a signature at the bottom of a love letter to the most beautiful of seas, that I’ve been writing for almost three years.
A yellow post-it note reminding you the important things not to forget amid the chaos of daily life.

It is a tattoo on the ever-changing body of my memory.

Returning to the same place is about much more than increasing your chances of getting a better photograph. In my guide to local photography, I explore how building a relationship with your surroundings can transform both your photography and the way you experience the places you know best.

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