For me, lockdown started on March 20th. I didn’t know what to expect or how it was going to be, no-one did I suppose. Some days made as much sense as a water hose in a storm of leafs forgotten in the garden. In others I would feel motivated and efficient, ready to get on with the day and whatever might come along. The transition from working in a different location almost every day and driving hundreds of miles between cities to working considerably less from home and going out only to the supermarket, farm shop, butcher, pharmacy or for walk wasn’t easy. It worked out in the end though and it is a small price to pay to protect others and ourselves. I dug my garden inside out, I reorganised my book cases and wardrobe, I even realised you should update the firmware on your camera/lenses, so I am now (almost) up to date. I also bought a new bike that took 3 weeks to arrive and rediscovered the joy of cycling along with walking in nature.
When it all started, I didn’t think about taking pictures, I hadn’t done it in a long time. But I decided that wether I was going to take any picture or not didn’t matter, as long as I was open to what might come my way. Soon I started to pay more attention and I felt the need to record what I was seeing, some things seemed so unbelievable. The pictures I took are mostly incidental, they found me, I didn’t find them. They are not meant to be in a specific order or even be in focus or make sense, few things do make sense nowadays. I see it as a recording exercise of glimpses in the history we live, each in our own way. They are like fractured moments or pieces of glass in a broken mirror. A bit like me right now.