I’ve been postponing this publication for the whole month now. This image has a very special, truly exceptional meaning to me, so I was struggling to find proper words to describe it adequately.


First I was insanely afraid to open myself up. I was convinced that everyone would get me wrong, so I didn’t see any point in sharing this work. Just recently I realized that those thoughts were blocking my self-expression not only as a creative person but as a human too. So I said to myself, either I’m doing it to the fullest or… well, there’s nothing after ”or” ?  If you’re committed to something, you’re doing all you can.


They say a creative process should go through all stages — idea, implementation, throwing it out into the world. I had no problems with the first two stages, but I was sucking in the last one. I wanted to share not only my visual image but also to embody thoughts into words. As easily as I can create an image, I do have troubles with putting it into words.


So. To keep a long story short… No. It’s NOT short already, and I haven’t even started the story itself. Let’s get into it.






Tiny hands are softly pushing from the inside of a belly. I hear a heartbeat, I clearly feel a presence of something — but I'm unable to touch it.


This vision scares me since I’m not pregnant and not even preparing to be one. It brings the storm inside while I’m sitting at a cafe at Fotografiska, a museum of photography in Stockholm. My eyes are watching the sunset over the city, but my mind is rushing in and out of my head trying to grasp what’s happening. I’ve spent two hours examining new photo exhibitions and at the moment am about to have an excellent time to observe a sunset on a warm summer day.


I see a ship passing by the museum and pick up my mobile to make a photo. Wait, I’ve seen the same frame before, haven’t I? I have. Let me make a throwback to December 2015.






In December 2015 I went to Fotografiska for the first time during my first ever visit to Stockholm. At that time I already knew we were relocating, so I devoted some time to get myself familiar with the city before we settled there.


During that visit to Fotografiska, I was fascinated by beautiful photo exhibitions. Photography had been my hobby for a couple of years before, so the museum felt like a special place. It was Fotografiska where I first started dreaming IN Stockholm and ABOUT Stockholm. I imagined how our life would be there, how I would be super happy to devote myself to my beloved hobby…


And I did that actually. Only it lasted for a little bit more than one year. Just one single year I’d been enjoying photography. Then I failed. I couldn’t make it to earn for a living. I was shy (and still AM now) to fully express myself and be pushy. After a year of trying, I gave up, found a fascinating job and quit photography. Didn’t pick up the camera for the whole 12 months.


In June 2018 I decided to go to Fotografiska after the year without photography. Just wanted to warm up myself a bit, to let some creativity into my world. That was the day I had the vision I’m talking about right now.






Aaaaand.. let’s come back to June 2018. I’m sitting in the crowded cafe at Fotografiska, while my eyes are looking at the sunset but my mind is watching a strange black and white vision. Why am I seeing it? What is my unconsciousness trying to tell me? Something feels very close but impalpable… painfully unreachable.


I’m walking out of the museum, loaded with millions of questions, angry that I have no answers. City, Stockholm! Give me the answer! I’m going fast by the water.


Suddenly I stop. What is the question I want the answer for?...


If there is a question, the answer will follow.

The only thing, the question is not yet raised...






4 months later I start creating conceptual photographs I’ve never made before.


6 months later I decide to translate that strange vision I had into a photograph — black and white, as I saw it in the cafe. By creating it, I finally understand what happened back then in Fotografiska. I got a seed of creativity planted inside of me. And it was manifesting itself in a baby who wants to come out. By January 2019 it started blooming (remember She-Bringer from the previous post? nr. 7 in the She series).


I came back to photography, though in an unusual way. And feel happy about it. ?


Now the ”idea — implementation — sharing” cycle for this work is finally finished. Be it bold or stupid, for me, it’s a relief.


Thank you for reading this to the end. Let me know if you’ve done it.