You Were Pictured Then by Jenny Lindhe
A couple of faces are given, such as the girl in her graduation cap on the lawn in the yard of a house, a striped cat on her lap, her dress peach pink, a style no longer in fashion. Paling shades and fingered photos; the man at the top peak of mount Kebnekaise, his cap awry and his regional flag stretched proudly between his hands.
Everything weathers, all that remains are the shards of what once was. What endures is backs, faces turned away, the absence of answers and the questions that can no longer be asked. Grief and fury, steps tramping around in circles and a desire to hold onto that which can be held. Not to release your grip, not to forget.
In her photographs, Jenny Lindhe portrays the great issues, leaving the viewer free to see his or her own answers. In her backs we see other backs, in her things other things, and thus the landscape she sketches becomes our landscape, at once alien and familiar. Like a part of ourselves we are not really prepared to acknowledge.
Boel Gerel
