Sven Jacobsen’s pictures question interesting inquiries about innocence and bliss. A new guide concentrates on illustrations or photos of youthful flexibility teenagers scale fences and climb trees and plunge into lakes, they skateboard and snog and do headstands and backflips and snicker like they will in no way, at any time quit. Any of the photographs could lead promoting strategies for spring drinking water or blue denims or fragrance – Jacobsen has labored as a commercial photographer for multinational companies and appreciates all the seductive emotions – but there is, as well, an further edge of intimacy and problem at get the job done. They invite you to remember moments when you felt as alive as the persons – relatives users, close friends and versions – he depicts. He calls his collection Like Birds.
Jacobsen implies that when he can take the images he is on the lookout always for the “flow of beauty” that might unite the determine with the landscape, a feeling of topic and background dissolved. He likens his procedure to browsing, allowing a wave consider about and seeing wherever it normally takes you. This photograph of the underwater swimmer is normal. He captions it as a “painting” for great rationale – the scene carries visual reminders of a pre-Raphaelite Ophelia, but the young girl here is pretty significantly alive, in her aspect, not nonetheless all set to crack the glassy surface of the drinking water, keeping her breath for pricey existence.
Like Birds very carefully excludes virtually all reference to time and put you glimpse in vain for a display screen or a pocketed cell phone or a trademark. The holiday getaway temper barely alterations as the visuals progress there seem number of serpents in the tiny paradises that Jacobsen seeks. The pictures, in this sense, come to be a thing of a examination for far more globe-weary eyes: what if lifetime ended up generally lived in the minute, like this? And: can you ever have way too substantially of a good matter?
Like Birds by Sven Jacobsen is posted by Hatje Cantz
