About two weeks ago, Gregory Kossinets, who told me that he is a regular reader of the various things I’m publishing online, responded to one of these emails with a kind little note. Writing online means mostly writing into a void. I am used to it, and I don’t mind it. Still, it’s the occasional kind responses that make it all worthwhile. So thank you, Gregory, and thank you also to all those who have emailed me before!

I’m an old-fashioned person, meaning I mostly take notes on index cards. I prefer cards over cheap notepads or digital devices mostly because I like the card’s tactility. And they have a presence, even with my poor handwriting. There are occasional digital notes, but once the device they’re on gets switched off, they’re gone from my mind.

All of these index cards get thrown out eventually, mostly after a few days. A note might lead to something (maybe an article), or it might lead me to act in some fashion, or it might lose its utility in a different fashion. There’s no need to accumulate any of that, especially given that I am already accumulating too many other paper goods (aka books).

“If I were to paraphrase the main ideas I've taken from your blog, as if to fit onto an index card…”, Gregory wrote in his email (this is shared with his kind permission; also, I know that the words are just quoted are not a complete sentence — we’ll get there soon). There was no way he might have known how I use index cards, but I enjoyed the idea that I am not the only one using them.

And it is true, I mostly write what I write hoping that it might resonate with other people who have the same or a similar approach to photography and life in general.

Regardless, I need to continue Gregory’s quote: “If I were to paraphrase the main ideas I've taken from your blog, as if to fit onto an index card, they would be:

• Don't treat your creative self like Amazon treats warehouse workers.

• If you're stuck trying to choose between ideas, think about the process not the outcomes.

• Let an idea challenge you and it might guide you somewhere interesting.

• Don't be a macho bore; approach the process with playfulness and it'll be a lot easier.

• Only thing to remember is focus: show up regularly and see things through.

• Try things and see where they lead you, allow yourself to be surprised.”

Reading this list I was surprised. All of it strikes me as solid advice I would happily give. If you were to put the list in front of me (preferably on an index card), I’d happily sign it.

It’s just that if you had asked me on the spot, I don’t think I could have come up with that list so easily. Somehow, the list feels smarter than I am.

I wanted to share the list mostly because even if one or more of the item(s) does/do not agree with how you approach life and art making, in that difference there might be some insight for you as well. That’s why I usually treasure advice for artists: not as the equivalent of the Ten Commandments but rather as a specific approach to art making against which one can understand one’s own (that, inevitably, might be different).

Honestly, though, don’t be a macho bore.

And thank you again, Gregory, for your email and for allowing me to share this particular part here!

For the past few months, I had been planning a new photography project. This would involve traveling to a part of Central Europe that I had not visited before and that would fit into the larger outline of my previous work. I bought a number of books and started reading up on the region.

Now I’m thinking that I might not go. Typically, I do not change my mind in this fashion, especially not if the general idea still sounds very solid to me.

It’s just I have become worried that the trip would ultimately result in a few steps sideways. I am certain that I would be able to bring back a lot of good pictures, most of which would fit in well with what I have already done.

But that’s exactly the problem: I do not in fact want to continue making the same work over and over again. There is no growth in that.

I want to grow as an artist.

In parallel to preparing for that trip, I had been photographing locally (I think I wrote about this before). This had been a real struggle up until a mental breakthrough that has allowed me to not only approach things in a new fashion but also (and crucially) to make pictures I had not made before.

Pictures I had not made before: that does not refer to what’s in front of the camera. Instead, it refers to how what’s in front of the camera is being treated. And that’s what I don’t want to lose. My worry is that going on that trip would ruin what might be the beginnings of some very new work.

Of course, I don’t know whether my new project, photographed right here in Western Massachusetts will lead anywhere. But I am going to take my chances.

If Germany were a computer, it would be at the stage where you’d switch it off, wait a few moments, and then switch it back on, hoping it would come to its senses. I honestly don’t even know how to deal with Germany any longer.

Somehow, I found this relatively new German band whose music really clicked with me. Everything about it is perfect, including the use of the German language. As a language, German really is only perfect for shouting orders — or for the kind of punk rock made by Die Verlierer.

I’m mostly not watching music videos, but I was curious what’s available online about this band. Turns out they made a video for Notausgang, the lyrics of which are a searing indictment of Germany’s lurch to the far right.

What got me about the video was the fact that it’s basically a series of stills. In almost every one of them I thought “hey, there’s one of my pictures right there!”.

Except for the way the people — the band members — are placed. You could do this in photographs, but for me this would not work. It would be too heavy handed and too obvious. In the video it works because you know that you’re looking at a moving image. In fact, the images are moving even where the people are holding still (or trying to anyway).

Here are two tips for making the perfect egg-salad sandwich: first, use mayonnaise made in Japan. By that I mean that even if you see Kewpie, the one they’re selling in the US is made in the US, and they foolishly changed the recipe (it tastes rather rancid). Buy the real Japanese one (I ordered mine from Weee!).

Second, prepare the egg white and yolk separately: mash up the yolk with mayonnaise added. Then slice and cube the egg white and add it in. Don’t just mash everything up in one go.

I’ll get back to sending out some links next time. Turns out I made the mistake of mis-organizing the list I’m keeping. This would have never happened with index cards, but writing URLs on an index card isn’t an option. So please be patient while I’m trying to figure out what I have sent you already and what still is waiting for an audience.

As always thank you for reading!

— Jörg