Table of Contents
Hello my patient friends,
In the spirit of keeping things as short as I can. Let’s dive into this month’s thoughts, and progresses.
Slow progress
As promised, we’re focusing this newsletter on my longterm photography project Covering again. Which, by the way, has a new button added to the project page that links to a folder in my online photography archive, housing every picture I’ve ever taken in Amersfoort that has a GPS location embedded in the file. This is in no way representative of whatever the final product of this project should be, and what it should contain, it’s merely a record of things captured so far. Take a gander, feel free, but please don’t deduce deceptive conclusions from them.
That outta the way, I wanted to share how I’ve been thinking about the reason I feel inclined to do weird projects like these anyway. Why take it upon myself to dedicate my time and energy towards a goal that isn’t even clearly visible from the beginning. Will it matter if I don’t? What do I contribute, do I want to contribute? Why? To what? Again, why?
But I do. I want to contribute to whatever faith in humanity we still have and hopefully reach enough people to make some dint in the dispositioned deceptions bestowed upon some fellow humans. So with those thoughts lingering, I sat down with my Covering Amersfoort work, so far. To find out what this project is starting to become about. What is the genre I’m photographing. How does my work compare to what’s been created before me, and does it add something to it, or am I wallowing in nothingness after all?
New Topographics
What initially didn’t seem relevant has gained significance in my mind after all. I learned about New Topographics, a photographic movement which is about photographing the everyday human-altered landscape in a plain, objective style — making the ordinary visible, instead of the sublime. The name originates from a 1975 photo exhibition in the U.S. at the George Eastman House called “New Topographics: Photographs of a Man-Altered Landscape”, was curated by William Jenkins and featured Robert Adams, Lewis Baltz, Bernd and Hilla Becher, Frank Gohlke, Nicholas Nixon, and Stephen Shore. I only know two of those names properly (Adams and Shore) but I have come to realize, and therefore now assume, most of my work is in some way subconsciously derived from the foundations laid by this group of people.
The New Topographics exhibition departed from the dominant ‘true’ or ‘pure’ style of photography up to that point, made famous mostly by Ansel Adams and Group f/64, where focus lay on a objective photographic representations of the world initially pointed towards natural forms and ‘found’ objects. Most people have an idea of who Ansel Adams was, and the type of work he produced. The New Topographics movement was basically doing the opposite of what Ansel was doing. At least from an output stance.
Adams showed us nature at its most sublime; New Topographics showed us suburbia and industry at their most ordinary. Though, despite their differences, I think you could argue both made us more aware of how humans shape the land, albeit in very different ways, our responsibility to protect it, and its elements, from extinction, in an effort to steer further developments into a more sustainable practice. Although Ansel was much more explicit in this mission than the New Topographics collective was, as they continuously insisted on neutrality, at least publicly.
Newer Topographics
Questions I’m asking myself now: is my work a present-day continuation of that 1975 tradition, or at least an attempt at one? Perhaps a reinterpretation within the context of modern-day Europe/The Netherlands/Amersfoort, instead of the landscapes of the American West from the previous century?
Purists might fight over the true definition of New Topographics and what is worthy of carrying its denomination or not. I prefer to seek context, take inspiration, keep my eyes pointed forward, and push on. In that sense, I now like to think of my work as — a contemporary continuation of New Topographics, observing Europe’s everyday, human-shaped landscapes, and simply continuing to work. You might notice I’m looking to place my work within the wider context of photography until now, as well as find out the value (or lack of it) I’m delivering by doing these longterm documentary projects.
Free of intense scrutiny but rooted in historic understanding is where I like to be.
Anybody can document, everybody interprets
I’m not sure if people even think about their work like this anymore. Seeking cultural relevance (as in, seeing if it’s there to begin with, not necessarily seeking it out, for now) is something that sounds pretentious and possibly impossible to achieve. ‘Culture’ is created by all of us but communicating that culture has been commodified by the internet, smart phones, and social media. It’s no longer just a subset of people doing the documentation and interpretation. Those roles still exist, but they’ve been diffused. The ability to document and interpret is now open to everyone — though the depth and quality vary, the gate is no longer guarded.
The 1975 group of photographers could go into the world and make registrations of implicit trends they could deduce. It was important work, as it highlighted otherwise overlooked ongoing human processes (the urbanization and reshaping of our previously pristine and sublime landscapes, as illustrated by the work Ansel was making up until that point), but in 2025 there’s nothing nobody notices. By now, we’ve been trained to be aware of our surroundings, and our surroundings have expanded to the full scope of the world. An unfortunate side effect of this process, is that it’s very easy to view the world as a rather bleak place. There’s too much sorrow and pain and destruction going on which, for its inherent shock value and attention-grabbing tendencies, typically take precedence over more positive messages.
The outraged can be marketed to
Fueled by our dominantly capitalistic systems, outrage sparks debate, debate is interaction, interaction pays the bills, because interacting people can be advertised to. There’s no more powerful money-making tactic than a well-timed relevant call to action amongst a group of people that feel something very strongly.
But I don’t really care about those things. In fact, I feel distant from them. As if those rules don’t pertain to me. I know they do, but I feel like they shouldn’t. Like they shouldn’t apply to any of us.
I like looking at boring stuff. Discovering why they’re not boring. I like highlighting details that bring back our sense of place. Ground us in reality. Remind us how futile most of things beyond that are. Statusgames and hollow causes, all to ‘win’ from people who should be your equals. I am just a guy, raised in comfort and stability. I have been lucky enough to look at the troubles of the world and realize the impact, but never feel it. I don’t know pain like some people know pain.
So why am I still so sad about it all, then?
I think I’ve built up some skills over time, and I’d like to believe they can add something. What that is, I’m not entirely sure yet. But I can sense that pieces are starting to fall into place.
Studio update
The walls are white, double glazed at that, the ceiling too. The floor that needed to be next? Halfway finished, but at least it started! Progress, slowly but surely.
Closing thoughts
I’ve updated my portfolio page with my best images from 2024. It took me 9 months to filter them out of the 25.137 images I’ve taken last year, sit with them, still like them after some months, and then adding them to the portfolio. And still I’m not sure about the selection. The process is the progress.
I’m also working on an update to the fine art print selection in my online store. Yes, I still have a store, I know I don’t promote it enough.
That’s all I had to say this month,
M
