A Step in the Right Direction

Published on by Otto von Münchow9 Comments

As much as I was hard on myself in last week’s post for not having done enough to move my plans forward—getting my work exhibited and my photographs published in book form—this week felt like a step in the right direction. I intend it to be a test of my commitment going forward.

Early in the week, I submitted an application to be considered for an exhibition at a major gallery in Bergen, Norway sometime next year. The work I applied with is a project I have been developing over many years, with photographs made in a valley just outside the city. The working title is The Valley Beyond.

The photographs are presented as triptychs, a form I chose because my experience of the valley is fragmented and complex. No single view, no single ruin or remnant of a farm, can contain its full character. In the triptychs, images from different times, places, and moods are brought together into open narratives, allowing the valley to unfold rather than be explained.

In all modesty, I believe I put together a strong application. That said, I have no expectations. Competition will be fierce—this is one of the most important galleries in town. Of course, I hope for the best, but if nothing comes of it, I know I did what I could. Some of the images from this project were shown in a post years ago, A Project Long Time in Coming.

Two good friends and colleagues: Morten Golimo and Otto von Münchow

In parallel, a friend and colleague of mine and I have, since December, been working to initiate a shared exhibition. This would be a meeting between two photographers with very different perspectives, methods, and subject matter, yet both bodies of work revolve around the same question: what does it mean to be an individual?

In this duo exhibition, photographs by Morten Golimo and myself are paired—one image from each of us. My photographs are black-and-white street images; his are close studies of details in nature. The images are not meant to explain one another, but to enter into conversation. In these pairings, unplanned connections emerge—similarities, tensions, and contradictions that open new ways of seeing both people and landscape.

After submitting the gallery application, I turned my attention to writing the artist statement for this duo exhibition. Once again, I found myself genuinely pleased with the writing. Does that mean, I could suddenly be getting too high on myself?.. Anyway, the next step will be the hardest one: finding a space willing to show the work.

Still, for once, I didn’t have to make excuses this week.

This Week’s Book Read

Artist and writer Austin Kleon has written three stimulating, funny, generous, and indispensable little books. They are must-reads for anyone in need of creative oxygen. Are you running on empty? Searching for new ideas? Stuck in a rut? Then pick up Steal Like an Artist, Show Your Work, and Keep Going.

Unsurprisingly, I’ve read all three—and I can’t recommend them highly enough. No matter your field, if you consider yourself a creative person, these books deserve a place on your shelf.

Steal Like an Artist, the New York Times bestseller, lays out ten things nobody ever told you about being creative. Show Your Work focuses on the often-daunting next step in a creative life: putting your work out there, getting known, and finding your people. Keep Going addresses the long haul, offering timeless, practical, and ethical principles for sustaining a meaningful and productive creative life.

Together, these books have pushed me off the creativity cliff more than once—in the best possible way. They are relatable, generous, and quietly heartening. Reading them made me feel understood as a creative person. They helped me accept that it’s okay to take a different path, and to move at a different pace. They reminded me that, eventually, the dots do connect.

Kleon both encourages and gently admonishes, always writing from the same place the rest of us inhabit. Pick up these books for easy, generous reading that might also give you the kick you need to start, to share something you’ve made, and to keep going. And you know what? A fourth book, Don’t Call It Art, is on the way later this year. I can’t wait.

Get Steal Like an Artist on Amazon
Get Show Your Work on Amazon
Get Keep Going on Amazon

For your information: If you decide to buy the book [through this Amazon link], I’ll receive a small commission. It doesn’t cost you anything extra, but it helps support the blog.

No More Excuses

Published on by Otto von Münchow18 Comments

Almost exactly a year has passed since I relaunched this blog. In the post A New Path, I promised to share both failures and successes as I transitioned from photojournalism and documentary photography toward a more artistic approach—what could be call fine art photography.

The impulse behind the blog remake was perhaps less about photographing itself, since that shift had already been underway for some time, and more about writing openly about the struggle I expected to face; getting my work shown in galleries and finding publishers willing to produce my photo books. In that world, I am a complete beginner. A greenhorn facing a steep uphill climb toward a first exhibition, a first book—toward anything, really.

Looking back at the past year, it’s clear that I haven’t written much about either of those pursuits. The simple reason is that I haven’t truly pursued them. And if you don’t do the work, there’s not much to report.

What did happen was that early in the spring, a publishing house accepted my idea for a book about Cuba. Not a photo book, but a text-based, nonfiction book. Writing that book took up most of the year and left little room for actively pursuing my path as a fine art photographer.

But here’s the uncomfortable truth: the writing also became a very convenient excuse not to try. We all know how difficult it is to step onto a new path. We procrastinate. We convince ourselves that other tasks are more urgent, that the timing isn’t right, that we’re not ready, or that we simply don’t have enough time. All of which of course is bullshit.

So here I am, with a book about Cuba still being worked on by an editor at the publishing house—but with no gallery shows and no photo books to point to. It wasn’t a wasted year, but it was a year in which I didn’t use my time as fully or as courageously as I should have.

It’s a new year now. And if I’m serious about this pursuit, I need to act accordingly. No more procrastination. No more hiding behind work that feels safer or more familiar. No more fooling myself.

I’ll end this post with a quote from Austin Kleon—an artist and writer whose thinking about creativity I deeply admire. In my next post, and its This Week’s Book Read, I’ll write more about his books. For now, here’s a passage that feels particularly relevant:

“Go easy on yourself and take your time. Worry less about getting things done. Worry about things worth doing. Worry less about being a great artist. Worry more about being a good human being who makes art. Worry less about making a mark. Worry more about leaving things better than you found them.”

Looking Back, Moving Forward

Published on by Otto von Münchow21 Comments

We’re coming to the close of the year—the first year of this rebuilt version of my blog. When I relaunched it in January with its “new” look, my goal was to post every week, as I used to many years ago. This time, though, the focus was meant to be clearer: to write about my path toward a more artistic approach to photography, rather than freely wandering reflections on creativity. With the renewed blog, I wanted to share the ups and downs of trying to get my work exhibited and published in one form or another.

I would say I succeeded with the first part. Even if I didn’t post every single week, I was close. The “new” blog has given me fresh motivation to keep writing, after having lost momentum for many years.

The second part, however, has been less successful. Not because I haven’t written about my photographic process or my work, but because I haven’t really pushed for exhibitions or books. Photo books, that is—because I’ve spent a large part of this year writing a book about Cuba, something I’ve mentioned here on the blog several times.

That is one of the main reasons I haven’t pursued exhibitions or photo books more actively: simply a lack of time. On top of that, I’ve been involved in several other projects, which has made this a busy year overall.

So even though I don’t have an exhibition or a photo book to show for this year, I’m content with my photography. And above all, I’m incredibly happy about the Cuba book. It’s not published yet, but it’s currently being edited at the publishing house—and that feels like a significant milestone.

This will be my last post of the year. I’m going to take a couple of weeks off, but I’ll be back again next year—hopefully with renewed energy and with my sights set more firmly on an exhibition and/or a photo book.

I wish you all happy holidays.

This Week’s Book Read

Anyone who follows the photography world will know that we recently lost the eminent British photographer Martin Parr. His body of work stands as a monument in contemporary photography. Utterly Lazy and Inattentive, published shortly before his death, is both an excellent introduction for those new to his work and a must-have for any serious photobook collector. The book is witty and revealing, pairing autobiographical anecdotes with Parr’s photographs—always respectful, yet incisive—of people at leisure, mainly in England.

The title comes from a dismissive school report written when Parr was fourteen, describing him as “utterly lazy and inattentive.” From that assessment, he went on to become one of photography’s most distinctive observers of modern life. In this autobiography, Parr turns the camera inward, guiding the reader through his career with more than 150 images and candid reflections, shaped in collaboration with writer Wendy Jones.

Rather than a polished career retrospective, the book feels personal and uneven in the best sense. Early suburban photographs sit alongside the saturated, often eccentric images from series such as The Last Resort, Small World, and Chew Stoke. Together, they form a visual memoir grounded in Parr’s sharp humour, irony, and deep fascination with the everyday rituals that quietly shape culture

Find Utterly Lazy and Inattentive on Amazon

For your information: If you decide to buy the book [through this Amazon link], I’ll receive a small commission. It doesn’t cost you anything extra, but it helps support the blog.

Back behind the Camera Again

Published on by Otto von Münchow10 Comments

I’m finally back photographing again. As I mentioned last week, the weeks before were pretty meagre in terms of image-making. Photography, just like any skill, needs practice and repetition. If you want to stay sharp, you have to keep practising—ideally every day—so you don’t lose your touch.

Of course, you never completely forget it—in the same way you never forget how to ride a bicycle once you’ve learned it. But if you haven’t been on a bike for a while, you’ll feel a bit shaky at first, and definitely less graceful than when you ride every day. It’s exactly the same with a camera.

This week, I’ve started a bigger assignment that will likely take up the rest of the week. I’ll be following one person, day in and day out, documenting her everyday life. The first images were made today, and I already know this is going to be interesting. She’s a real character—which makes all the difference when you’re hoping to capture something honest, spontaneous, maybe even a bit moving.

To make sure I was up to the task—and not fumbling around with the controls—I started practising again last week. Even more important is being on, in order to be able to capture telling and touching images on the fly when the person I photograph, is in activity and moving around.

First, I went out and did some street photography. Nothing trains your reactions better than photographing the unpredictable—and nothing is more unpredictable than the street. After that, I returned to a personal project I’ve been working on, on and off, for the past couple of years.

The idea behind the project is to “portrait” someone without actually photographing the person. Instead, I look for traces of them in their homes. We all surround ourselves with objects, details, and personal paraphernalia that reflect who we are—consciously or not. That’s what I’m hunting for. I visit people in their space and photograph anything that feels closely connected to them—the items that speak on their behalf.

The working title for the project is “Traces of You and Me”. In this post, I’m sharing a handful of those images—quiet visual portraits made through the things people leave behind, use, cherish, or simply live with.

I photographed almost every day last week, and it felt good. It grounded me again. And now, stepping into this new assignment, I feel ready—present, alert, and curious for what the next images will reveal.

This Week’s Book Read

Father by Diana Markosian presents the photographer’s journey back to another place and another time, as she attempts to piece together an image of a familiar stranger—her long-lost father. Through a compelling blend of documentary photographs, family snapshots, and archival material, she shapes a narrative that is both intimate and universally resonant.

The particular strength of the book lies in its ability to merge documentary realism with poetic storytelling. The result is a quiet, complex meditation on memory, loss, and identity. Markosian explores her father’s absence, her tentative reconciliation with him, and the shared emptiness created by their long estrangement. The photographs—made over the course of a decade in her father’s home in Armenia—probe the fifteen years of separation that began in her childhood.

In this voyage of self-discovery, Markosian touchingly renders her longing for connection with a man she barely remembers, a man who greets her, poignantly, with the question: “Why did it take you so long?” Her images are tender, personal, and deeply felt—quiet observations that speak loudly.

The book itself reinforces this intimacy. Wrapped in a red velvet cover, it feels both personal and elegant from the moment you hold it. The endpapers carry a pattern often found in Soviet-era wallpaper, subtly evoking the settings of the artist’s early life. Photographs are interwoven with short texts by Markosian, guiding the reader gently through the narrative.

With Father, Markosian translates deeply personal experiences into themes that resonate far beyond her own family. The book becomes not only a portrait of a lost relationship, but also an exploration of the universal human longing for connection, reconciliation, and understanding.

The book is published by Aperture.

Find Father on Amazon

For your information: If you decide to buy the book [through this Amazon link], I’ll receive a small commission. It doesn’t cost you anything extra, but it helps support the blog.

Echoes from a Different Gaza

Published on by Otto von Münchow16 Comments

The last couple of weeks have been meagre in terms of photographing. I’ve hardly touched a camera, let alone captured anything worthwhile. It’s okay. I’m not worried, even though I know how important it is to keep at it. Anything you want to be good at needs steady practice, preferably every day.

But there will always be periods of less activity, less focus, and less dedication. And I also know that the urge will return. It always does, when it’s something you care deeply about.

These past weeks, I’ve mostly been editing and processing photos I hadn’t yet found time for. I’ve also been scanning old slides for various projects—a time-consuming task. Each scan takes around ten minutes, and the processing another ten. That means three, maybe four, finished images per hour. In other words; not even a couple hundred in a full week’s worth of work.

But it was something I needed to do. And now, finally, it’s done.

One of the projects I was scanning images for was from a trip I made to Palestine. This was back in 1996, when I visited both the West Bank and the Gaza Strip. Back then, Gaza was a functioning city. The conflict was ongoing, of course, but nothing like today. On the West Bank, the number of Israeli settlers was relatively small compared to now neither places, and there wasn’t a full-scale war going on—only “regular” violent clashes.

When I compare those photographs with what we see in the news today, especially from Gaza, it’s incomprehensible. Nothing but ruins. Lives wasted and destroyed.

I think about the boys I met back then. They would be around 40 years old today. But do they still live? And if they do, how are they doing? How is their life? How are they coping? It’s shattering just to think those thoughts. And almost unimaginable to imagine answers that make any sense.

At least the old men I met back then didn’t have to witness today’s devastation. But they surely have families living today—children, grandchildren, a next generation. How are they doing? It’s heartbreaking. These atrocities need to stop. Now.

On a different note; sorry for not having posted in three weeks. Furthermore, I will get back to the comments you have written very soon.

Conformity Is Characterless

Published on by Otto von Münchow17 Comments

One of the topics I often return to in my workshops is the idea of a photographic voice—that personal signature that makes your images yours. It’s something that grows slowly over time. The more you photograph, the more your voice develops into something unique. It’s not something you can actively chase or piece together through imitation. The voice will find you. You can’t go looking for it; instead, it reveals itself gradually, image by image.

A key ingredient in a strong photographic voice is authenticity. When your photographs are true reflections of who you are and how you see the world, that’s when your voice becomes distinct. It requires letting go of expectations about how photographs “should be” or what the photographic community collectively agrees is good.

As your visual voice begins to take shape, you’ll feel it. You’re stepping off the well-paved road and into uncharted terrain. It may not feel unfamiliar to you, but others might not follow as easily. Making work that is genuinely your own can mean a smaller—or less enthusiastic—audience. Not because the images are worse, but because they don’t fit neatly into conventional categories.

I see this clearly when I post on Instagram. A pretty sunset or a colourful, easily digestible scene? The likes roll in. But when I share something that matters more to me—work that’s more layered, complex, perhaps less immediately “beautiful”—the numbers drop dramatically.

I actually take that as a good sign. Sure, it could mean the images aren’t strong, but as long as I feel they are meaningful and I’m proud of them, that’s what matters. Fewer likes can be a reminder that I’m not just walking the same old path.

The same thing happens here on the blog. When I post photographs that are more personal or experimental, comments tend to disappear. Last week’s post—with images from my ongoing project Transitions— didn’t get a single comment. And no, I’m genuinely not fishing for any! I simply see it as confirmation that I’m pushing into territory that might be harder to digest, but truer to my own vision.

Conformity may be comfortable, but it’s also characterless.

So here are a few more photographs from Transitions, again from my latest trip to Havana. I hope you enjoy them—but more importantly, I hope they continue to push me forward.

Have a wonderful week ahead.

In Transition

Published on by Otto von MünchowLeave a comment

This week has felt like a transition—wrapping up my time here in Seattle and preparing for my return to Norway next week. How appropriate, then, that part of what I’ve been working on involves editing and processing images for my long-term and ongoing photo project Transitions. The photos, from Havana, were captured during my last trip to Cuba in July. Three of the results from this week’s work are included in this post.

Besides processing the Transitions photos, I’ve also been editing an instructional video for a massage therapist here in Seattle. It’s actually part of a whole series, and the footage I’m working on right now was filmed just last week.

That’s all from me this week—apart from the book review below. Wishing you all a fantastic week ahead.

This Week’s Book Read

Danny Lyon has long been one of my favourite photographers, but for reasons I can’t quite explain, I hadn’t actually owned his book The Bikeriders until very recently. First published in 1968, it was a groundbreaking work that transformed documentary photography, much like the “New Journalism” of the 1960s did for writing—think Hunter S. Thompson, Joan Didion, and Tom Wolfe.

The Bikeriders became a touchstone of 1960s counterculture, defining the image of the outlaw biker later made famous in Easy Rider and countless other films and photo books. It tells a gritty yet romantic story of the motorcycle club Lyon joined and photographed in the mid-1960s on the north side of Chicago—capturing vivid moments of camaraderie, raw scenes on the highway, and the spirit of young Americans rejecting mainstream society. For two years, Lyon wore the colors as a full member of the Outlaws Motorcycle Club.

The Bikeriders remains his best-known work—and for good reason. It’s still available today, though I’m not sure in how many editions. Either way, it’s a book that continues to speak powerfully, more than half a century after it first appeared.

Get The Bikeriders by Danny Lyon on Amazon

A Quiet Week

Published on by Otto von Münchow8 Comments

Since finishing the first draft of my book about Cuba and sending it to the publisher, I’ve had something I haven’t experienced in a very long time—a completely open schedule, at least for all practical purposes. It almost feels strange not to be stressing over a deadline or pushing to get more work done.

I’m still in Seattle, USA, where I’ll stay for another week and a half. So there’s no reason to take on new assignments just yet. Once I return to Norway at the end of October, though, I’ll be back to working full-time again.

As I mentioned in my last blog post, this open schedule has given me time to edit and process photos I hadn’t previously managed to get to. Now I’m almost done, and my archive is finally up to date. Not much to write about this week, really—so I’ll simply wrap up with a handful of the photos I’ve been working on lately.

This Week’s Book Read

AI has already changed the very premises of photography, yet most photographers still struggle to grasp what this new reality means for the practice of image-making. For anyone seeking thoughtful insight into these changes, I can wholeheartedly recommend Fred Ritchin’s book The Synthetic Eye—Photography Transformed in the Age of AI. It’s a revelatory roadmap through today’s image universe.

Ritchin explores how AI has fundamentally transformed our sense of what is real, what is possible, and what is actual. This illuminating book builds on established theories of photography to question how technology has created new ethical dilemmas, expanded creative boundaries, and radically reshaped the act of seeing.

Fred Ritchin—former picture editor at The New York Times Magazine and now a respected scholar, writer, and photography critic—uses his own AI-generated images to illustrate his arguments. He discusses his experiments openly, showing examples that are at times surreal, surprising, and even touching.

In this smart and thought-provoking book, Ritchin examines the evolving relationship between digital photography and artificial intelligence—an interaction he describes as both full of promise and deeply unsettling.

Get The Synthetic Eye by Fred Ritchin on Amazon

For your information: If you decide to buy the book [through this Amazon link], I’ll receive a small commission. It doesn’t cost you anything extra, but it helps support the blog.

A Revelation in Gray

Published on by Otto von Münchow8 Comments

This week I made a small revelation in my photography—and it filled me with joy. It feels as if it might take my work in a new direction—or, perhaps more accurately, add to my visual vocabulary.

As I mentioned in my last blog post, a week ago I sent the manuscript for my book about Cuba to the publisher. That has opened up time for other creative work. Among other things, I’ve started editing and processing photos that have been sitting in my archive as dead weight for far too long. Last week, as I wrote earlier, I worked my way through photos taken in Morocco back in April.

Lately I’ve reached images from various trips in May. One of them was to the Pacific coast of the Olympic Peninsula in Washington State. My partner and I stayed at La Push over an extended weekend, walking along the many beaches that line this part of the coast.

The weather was constantly changing—we had everything from sunshine to heavy rain and fog—and we loved every bit of it. Of course, I took plenty of photos.

When you want to grow as a photographer and deepen your creative expression, one of the most important impulses is to choose subjects that matter to you. When you photograph themes you care about—even, or particularly, when you’re not photographing them—you connect to your work in a far more profound way.

A well-worn saying in photography tells beginners to “shoot what you love.” There’s a lot of truth to that, though it only tells half the story. A war photographer doesn’t photograph the horrors of war because they love it. Many photographers focus on what disturbs or angers them. But in every case, the subject must interest them deeply.

Find that subject or theme that truly interests you, and you’ll have rich ground to explore. It’s like meeting someone you instantly connect with. That’s why I photograph people—I love that the camera allows me to engage with people I find interesting.

But here’s the thing: I also love nature and being out in the wilderness. In fact, my first fumbling steps in photography were all about nature. Yet for a long time, I haven’t found many, if any, nature photographs—my own or others’, even by the best—that really connect with me. Too often they become just beautiful vistas or images of wildlife that I quickly move past.

It has puzzled me, this realization that the old advice doesn’t seem to work for me when photographing nature. I’ve simply accepted it, even as I keep shooting when I’m out in Mother Nature.

Now, while editing the photos from the Pacific coast, I came across one completely gray and dull seascape with hardly any detail or tone. But there was something about it that resonated with me. I started processing it, turned it into black and white, and pushed the contrast—both locally and globally—far beyond what any sane photographer would do. And out came this image that, to me, felt right. It’s scruffy, dark, dirty, grainy, full of flaws—and I like it.

That one photo has opened a path I want to explore: photographing nature in a way that feels true to my voice. It feels like it’s already part of who I am as a photographer. Maybe nobody else will like what comes out of this pursuit—but I don’t care. This one is for me. It feels like home.

This Week’s Book Read

Last year, Canadian photographer David duChemin released a new book titled Light, Space & Time. In twenty powerful essays, David explores the role of the human behind the camera—the creative mind and heart that shape the act of making photographs. He writes with the same warmth, insight, and authenticity that have made his previous best-selling books so inspiring.

This is not a how-to book. If you’re looking for quick photography tips or technical guidance, this one isn’t for you. But if you’re seeking inspiration and words that might make you a more intentional and expressive photographer, then Light, Space & Time is exactly what you need. The book reads like a creative journey, inviting us to give ourselves permission to make photographs that are truly our own—to take risks, to experiment, and to play.

David is one of the most insightful writers on how to grow as a photographer and develop a personal visual voice—and this book may well be his best to date. If you’ve followed his blog or other writings, much of the material will feel familiar, but the way it’s brought together here creates a strong and coherent understanding of the creative process behind photography.

The book is filled with photos of wildlife from all over the world. Most critics have praised the photographs, though personally they don’t resonate with me—even if I can clearly see their quality. That’s just who I am (as I mentioned in the post above), and I believe David would completely understand. His message, after all, is that we each have to find our own way.

Get Light, Space & Time by David DuChemin on Amazon

For your information: If you decide to buy the book [through this Amazon link], I’ll receive a small commission. It doesn’t cost you anything extra, but it helps support the blog.

Stories in Words and Images

Published on by Otto von Münchow8 Comments

The first round of editing for Cuba—24 Stories has gone much more smoothly than I expected. I’ve already worked my way through the manuscript a couple of times—simplifying, adding, deleting, and polishing the first draft. This part of the writing process is one I truly enjoy. It’s all about sharpening the text and making it the best it can be.

Yesterday, I decided it was finally time to send the manuscript to the editor at the publishing house. Not because the editing is finished, but because I felt it was time to get fresh eyes on the text. Someone not invested in the writing—i.e., not me—who can point out what still needs to be done to make it stronger.

So that’s where the book project stands right now.

Which also means life is starting to feel more normal again. Things are opening up, and I suddenly have time for more than just writing. I can finally return to photography in a serious way—taking on new assignments, picking up projects that had been put on hold, and even beginning to imagine new ones.

One thing I’ve already gotten back to is editing and processing photographs that have been sitting untouched for far too long. Tens of thousands of images have been waiting on my hard drive. This week, I finally edited and processed photos from Morocco that I took back in April.

It feels good to be finishing these photos—and to rediscover the rhythm of editing. At first, it almost felt strange trying to remember all the shortcuts and commands that once came second nature. But it’s coming back quickly.

In this post, I’m sharing a few images from Casablanca, Morocco.

Sadly, Morocco is currently experiencing unrest and tragedy. Anti-government protests have filled the streets, and many demonstrators have been met with violent crackdowns by the police. People are protesting the poor state of public services and widespread corruption, pointing to the billions being poured into preparations for the 2030 World Cup while schools and hospitals remain underfunded and in dire condition.

My heart is with those who struggle to make life better in the country.

In a way, both the book project and the photos from Morocco remind me why I do what I do—whether through words or images. It’s about telling stories, giving shape to experiences, and maybe offering a glimpse into lives and places beyond our own. Editing the book, editing the photos—it’s the same process at heart: refining until the story stands clear. And right now, I feel grateful to be able to return to both.