After suffering some work-related setbacks recently, it dawned upon me that basically all of the people who have caused me genuine consternation during the past years have been metal fans. What I mean by that is that these people have expressed a genuine delight in partaking of the music and culture of ”heavy metal,” and its various offshoots: black, death, speed, whatever. Is there a real pattern here? The more I think about it, the more I can see how tangible the equation actually is. From my own very personal and therefore highly subjective perspective it’s as true as it gets: people who like metal ”for real” are people with whom I can have no working relationship. They have proven it for me over and over again. I should have learnt that lesson earlier, but alas… From now on, whenever I initiate some kind of substantial creative or business relationship, I need to inquire what the person in question feels about heavy metal or black metal or whatever metal. If they give an...

  Traveling all over the world; into deepest Africa and highest Asia, into the plainest plains of Europe and most lush jungles of South America, into the deserts of North Africa and Australia, and into the icy coasts of the Poles. What is there to see? Everything. Nothing. What is my function here? The same as everywhere else: to go, to do, to make, to make up, to assemble the documentation. The magic of a geographical initiation: to show up and take in, then take off and show off. Then reframe whatever we’re attracted to and share it as art in many different forms, shapes and sizes. And here we get to the essence of this train of thought: what if…? What if I were somewhere with no tools of documentation whatsoever? Would the experience still mean something if it weren’t potentially possible to share? Would I be interested in seeing without access to my camera? Would I be interested in memorising details without access to pen and paper? Or is this only another pathology cloaked...