So my book dummy arrived last week. yay :-)

It’s kind of funny to notice the different “feels” a particular image has, depending on which medium, or in which circumstance, you view it. Heck even my mood makes me thoroughly dislike an image I’ve loved five minutes before. And vice versa. And this goes on all the time… Being able to delete at the touch of a button is NOT a good thing at these moments :-/

I guess it’s kind of logical that the above is true. but the thing that sometimes floats around in my mind is: is my mood “right”? So will “the” edit be “correct”? What is “correct”? What if i make the “wrong” edit? Is there even such a thing as “the” edit?

Oh my god. Too much parentheses.

—

Actually I’m sure that the “definitive” edit is a myth… Every project I do, has at least half a dozen, and sometimes many more edits. All these edits come together in a story: that one, all-encompassing mega-edit that is the sum of all potential useful images. And there’s more: every project has potentially many stories. And to complicate things even further: as a person you develop different visions over time…  Imagine keeping all this in mind while you’re making that one edit.

And all you can look at is one image at a time.

Basically I guess it boils down to this:

Know thyself very well, what you stand for, who you are as a person.
What you can, and more importantly, what you cannot do.
Knowing this, is your greatest strength.

As time progresses, definitely in long term, documentary-like photography projects, your vision, your story, your edits, continually adjust themselves and multiply or outright influence each other. Being able to keep track of all these things, is imho a good base to tell stories in a solid way (through different edits/projects) and develop a strong artistic vision (over time, over different projects, as a photographer, as a person, as a storyteller).

—

OK sorry… Enough over-analyzing… Basically I just started out writing this because when I held the book dummy in my hands earlier this week, it reminded me of how much pure fun it is to edit and edit and edit again and to foster and see it all grow and come together… I take months to do it, the slower the better. It’s like getting into a brand new relationship with the same images, completely different than the relationship you already have because of making them in the first place… And not at all mutually exclusive… Powerful stuff.

Being able to distinguish between these two “modes” is the key: being able to “divorce” yourself from re-living the moment you took the picture, so you can make that good edit, tell that story.

Of course i’m not forgetting about the major importance of being able to build that initial relationship with your subject(s) in the first place… Because this is where it all starts… If no relationship here, then no chance of ever being able to tell a story, develop a vision… Your own CONNECTION to the subject at the time of photographing… It is the CORE of being able to make a unique story… To be able to feel the story developing in front of you… See your growing vision… To be able to let go of all worldly things and simply get in “the zone” while shooting….

—

So it’s crucial to have both. Go figure. Hard thing to do. As if having one of the two wasn’t hard enough to begin with. how on earth can i divorce myself from those “moments”, and look at the picture in a solely media/edit-biased way without instantly being transported back to the moment? and switch back and forth between modes in an instant?

“Hi, i’m anton, picture editor.”

“Hi, i’m anton, photographer.”

What i do to solve this is basically the following: i let time go over the edits. i let places go over the edits. i let people go over the edits.

For example: small prints are hanging up on the wall in my studio in Belgium, natural light, almost clinical, moving around constantly as my mood changes, like an ever-growing edit;

opposed to that,

yesterday night, Taka-san, dear friend and fixer for this project, held this first book dummy in his hands in his tiny smoky four-person-max-occupancy bar in the red light district in Tokyo at 1 a.m., leafing through it over beers in a steady pace, in low light, sometimes pausing, sometimes asking a question. Nodding affirmatively, sometimes even emotional. Then my brother Malik, Taka-san and i light a cigarette, have a beer, and fall silent.

Which situation would you prefer?

—

Jeez that was elaborate… Basically only to say that it feels different to see someone literally hold your images in their hands in a book in a far away place in the middle of the night, making their own unique story while leafing through….

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Bright day. Early morning. A commemoration is to be held for a deceased family member.

The family is in charge of organizing the service. Before dawn, they set up a room with a white shrine and flowers… the family name as well as the person’s own name is displayed above.

Guests and other families have been invited, and by sunrise they are slowly starting to arrive in order to pay their respect. To welcome them, the family of the deceased lines up alongside the room according to hierarchy, Tanamoto Kaicho first. Every member of the mourning family has a white paper flower attached to the jacket.

—

I stand in the doorway silently. I see the guests enter the room, burn incense for the departed, and say a prayer for his sake. After this, they proceed to an adjacent room where they sit and talk to the family boss, have a cup of tea, and smoke a cigarette.

At this point they pay their respect yet again by offering a ceremonial envelope with money inside. The precise amount of this gift is determined by a complex mixture of factors like relationships, business ties, a statement, personal friendships or past commemorations.

—

Soichiro tells me that often the deceased is mourned several times over different services, depending on practical circumstances, or even plain notoriety. I’m imagining the practical implications of organizing a single service in the center of a city with a Yakuza family consisting of several thousand members… In this case, it’s the second commemoration, and also quite intimate. Nonetheless, the endless line of cars is quite impressive. There are several members on “traffic duty”, redirecting (regular) traffic and providing parking space.

—

Every time the next line of cars approaches, Soichiro tells me which family it is, and a few words about or their relationship with them. I watch the members who are lower in rank exit their cars first, and form a line next to the road at the entrance of the shrine. A few seconds later, when the boss pulls up and exits his car, he is surrounded by family members. Everyone bows and greets while he walks past and enters the room.

—

The end of  the day. It’s over. The guests have gone, the rooms have been cleaned and everyone’s ready to leave. Socho, the number one boss, is the first to go… his car drives up and he enters. Again, all members are lined up, this time to say goodbye. I feel a little uneasy, a tall westerner hanging around at the wrong place, having no clue what’s going on.

The car is about to pass by, but then something happens: the car slows down to a stop, and the darkened back window opens to me. This is definitely not standard procedure, and quite a security risk too. I now see the boss sitting there in his car, smiling and looking straight ahead. It takes me a second to realize why he does this… but then I get it.

—

I smile. I take the picture, I bow and pay my respects. The car drives off and disappears in the distance.

Meet Taka-san. He is a great friend and my fixer for the Yakuza project entitled “Odo“. He runs a tiny bar in the heart of Kabukicho in Shinjuku, Tokyo.

Taka’s bar is totally unique. Even in comparison with the area Golden Gai, plastered with hundreds of cool little bars in as many styles, that seat a maximum of about 12, Taka’s bar only has room for 4. His bar is literally a big box in which you can’t even stand upright. No running water, no fridge… just a cooler with a block of ice and a pick, punk music off a battery powered “discman”, and the walls plastered with movie posters and business cards of people that have visited and got drunk…. yes… mine included.

—

Sometimes i sit there, drinking a beer, and I realize: “look at me, sitting here in a frantic city with 20+ million people around me, away from home completely on the other side of the world, in a tiny claustrophobic bar that holds 4″. It does feel quite surreal.

(View of Kabukicho)

Taka’s bar is effectively my base of operations in Kabukicho. As contradictory as it sounds, this bar, frequented by prostitutes and pimps, businessmen and yakuza, old and young, is the safest possible place for my gear. I also regularly check in at night when roaming the streets…. his opening hours are midnight ’til about 7am. Just a quick pop in to say hello ensures him that i’m ok, and he regularly calls when he knows I’m out shooting (that is, if he is not actually physically with me, of course).

—

Then a month ago Taka-san went missing.

—

As he guarantees my personal safety, my brother and I were worried to say the least. With an upcoming trip to Japan only a few weeks away (I was in Belgium at the time), and everything set in place, ready to go, we didn’t know what to do. Nobody of his friends knew where he was, or what had happened.

My brother tried calling him for days, but his phone appeared to be switched off or disconnected. This lasted for two weeks… in the third week we noticed the phone had been switched on again, but we still could only reach voice mail. What had happened?

Also, the deadline to come to Japan was coming closer. Decisions needed to be made. Should we call off the trip? Cancel? Postpone? After long talks my brother and I decided to continue as planned: as the first meeting with the Yakuza was planned only for a few days in, it effectively bought us more time to try and find Taka-san, and also put a backup plan in place (which involved me shooting images related to living in Kabukicho in general).

—

The night I arrived at the airport, he called us… All was ok… Apparently he had taken a holiday for a couple of weeks, and had switched off his phone in the process.

He was genuinely touched by our worries… We’re still finding out the real reason… but… he definitely owes us a beer.

… and a huge shout out to James Estrin… thanks!

check out the story here: http://lens.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/11/12/showcase-76/

Antoine D’Agata with beer and cigarette – back staircase on the 6th floor, Brooklyn, New York, 2009

I knew when i had made the image, that something had happened.

But i needed long talks with family and friends to be able to put my finger on what it meant exactly… David, being in Mexico as well, was the first i could talk to. At the time i had no clue how my developing visual language was tied into my own psyche, my own history and personality, and i really needed help contextualizing what i had just created and what it meant to me.

It was a hard time for me right after that image.

It felt like I had touched something very personal, and to be honest i never expected this to happen. I mean, while taking pictures? It got so bad, I’d find myself traveling, wandering the streets all over the world desperately trying to find myself, pointing my camera inwards along the way.

Only very slowly i learned to use this feeling as a positive rather than a constrictive force. But it was hard – and sometimes, when i get into that mood, it still is – to make that switch.

Yes, i’m a gemini :-/

I honestly never thought i would ever even have something resembling anything close to a life long project. It sounds so daunting. It’s sounds so… pompous. So… something that fake artists declare, so… something so not like me, and certainly not something to tell anyone about.

But for some reason, it gives me a tremendous peace of mind and a kind of tranquility that i never expected.

I know i might never complete it, let alone publish it. Come to think of it, completion is not even relevant. But publication is, i guess… And i have a gut feeling that the chance of publishing this project will be directly related to how successful in general i will be as a photographer, because i’m sure i’ll have to use up all my credit to get this one published.

I am, effectively, building up my entire career, just to have enough credit to make this happen.

No joke. That’s how it feels. Sounds weird doesn’t it.

—

The project “dislocate” is more than just photography: it spills over to the rest of my life. My relationship with my family has always been exceptional, and now it is even better; I’m much more at ease in any friend or love relationship; when I’m working, I now work harder and more efficiently; and I love what I do more than before.

On the other hand, I’m also much more intolerant and nervous, and get angry more often, when confronted with things that waste time or energy… I’m much more focused, and realize more than before that we are all given only one time here on this world. And I feel I have to make it count.

—

“dislocate” is not a singular project anymore. It’s an assignment, it’s commercial, it’s art, it’s my life, all at the same time. It does not distract me from any other work i do. It is just, simply, there.  I could best describe it as an energy, a mood that runs through me, all the time. It isn’t even fixed to photography… Photography just happens to be the vehicle to express at this point in time.

“dislocate” forces me to open my mind as wide as i can. It makes me not judge others and listen instead, trying to understand. I honestly believe it might even make me a better person.

“dislocate” is my sense of my place in this world. Me feeling uprooted, my incessant looking for where i belong.

Where my land is.

Funny that feeling dislocated, something that used to unsettle me and make me nervous, now actually makes me feel calm instead.

I still get nervous sometimes though… but not too often anymore.

Actually, I think “dislocate” is never meant to be finished. It is just the thing that makes me feel that i am a photographer.

Hmm…

I hope it never goes away.

(image by Kerry Payne)

So proud and humbled by what we achieved in little over 10 months…

Check out the post on BURN Magazine…

The covert training camp lies somewhere along the shores of southern Japan. I have no idea where i am, after being driven here for several hours, together with young Yakuza recruits who will be trained here.

Greeting Tanaka-sensei, master swordsman, I realize very quickly that i am extremely lucky to be able to witness and photograph this…

—

Most of the images are under embargo right now, but i hope to be able to release them over the next few weeks and tell the story… but I didn’t want to hold back setting the mood already…

What used to be a two-man operation has now grown to a lean mean mini-agency of 5 people, and a turnover we can all live comfortably from.

Ang’l provides me with the necessary  freedom so i can pursue my long term photographic projects, slowly making the transition to making a full living out of those. Because my approach to photography, specializing in long term conceptual documentary photography – yes that is a mouthful indeed – does not readily warrant a steady income right from scratch. You need to pave your own way a fair bit.

But who’s complaining? I have a healthy balance between family & friends, Ang’l web design, BURN magazine, and my own photography here, and the balance is slowly shifting to where i would like it to settle down. And i guess the slower the shift, the more gradual the movement, the more tried-and-tested it will be once i get there. Beats any sudden life-style changes in my book.

At Ang’l we work in a hyper-personal way with our clients. and hyper-flexible. and hyper-professional. Well, we have no choice of course, being the small lean web design agency and all, but we manage to handle a few large clients and a dozen smaller ones exceptionally well.

It’s hard keeping up with technology. Always is. But we try to use Moore’s law to our advantage and make our web experience count, and then rely on a mega cool network of über-high-tech freelancers to do all the fancy stuff that we dream up. Less profit, but a neat way of giving back to the community…

And it spills over of course. I am a photographer who can conceptualize, design and program web sites. Conceptualize, design and print books. Conceptualize, design and produce videos. Work professionally and courteously with any media company i deliver my images to. I believe, i hope that this extra knowledge will foolproof me for the future… the future which is now, which does require more from a photographer than just to be able to shoot exceptional images.

I know, i know… It is hard enough as it is to make exceptional images… only to realize that when you finally do so, people expect all that other stuff as well. It seems unfair. But i guess it’s the only way to make a difference… other than hoping that God or some other higher being will endow you with so much talent that you can forget all that other stuff.

Somehow i believe that the chance of the latter ever happening, is infinitesimally smaller than just working your #ss off and trying to make it happen for yourself.

Tanamoto Kaicho lies motionless, silently enduring the pain. Sensei Horiyoshi applies the tattoo manually, according to ancient traditions, and with his own prepared colors. Although it is said to be less painful than a modern tattoo, the sheer size and complexity of the artwork is daunting. The skillset involved is immense: at precisely 120 stabs a minute with hand-made needles, and at an exact angle and depth, depending on the skin thickness in that particular area, the artist applies his design. Any mistake will show up immediately, and permanently, as an imperfection.

—

Early morning. A long row of cars stops in front of the hotel. When we enter the bar in the lobby, i notice that the place has been cleared completely. As a security measure. The bosses are having a meeting and a coffee. Other family members, sitting at surrounding tables at a different positions, form a physical barrier. I am the closest i can go, in front of a someone staring right at me. Soichiro tells me the man at my table has been in prison for the past 23 years, and recently released. He doesn’t tell me why, but i’m guessing that it wasn’t for shoplifting.

—

Anything below the heart is painful, Soichiro tells me, while we watch Tanamoto Kaicho’s tattoo being completed. Personally, recalling his own tattoo, the inside of the upper leg hurts the most, Soichiro says. Tanamoto Kaicho was once the proud owner of a full body suit tattoo, and had it removed several years later, only to have this new one made. Once complete, he will have spent about 100 hours, in sessions of 2 hours at a time, to get this tattoo.

—

In the hotel bar I am only slowly starting to understand the minutial social order that is continuously happening, the micro-expressions on the faces, the gestures, the voices and intonations, the body language. Everything seems to be strictly organized but at the same time seems to come naturally: strangely, I don’t need anyone to tell me what to do, where to sit, when to talk or when to shut up… it’s like I feel the boundaries, the implicit expectations, and I am slowly learning when I can do, and when to best hold back.

—

As much as they are allowing me to photograph, it as well seems to me that Soichiro is trying to teach me about the subtle Japanese cultural intricacies, and the relation of their family to society. It’s clear to me that they are most definitely not operationg completely “outside” of society. They are, so to speak, one leg in, one leg out. Why is this? How is this possible?

First image from my next long-term project. The Why and the How are a secret for now, but I promise I’ll tell soon :-)

I’ve worked all day to prepare everything. Made galleries on my portable; made prints at Yodobashi Camera. Wrapped everything up nicely to present to him. When we meet at his office around 11pm, Soichiro, my brother, and I go through the whole collection of images i have made up till that point. I’m nervous as hell.

Slowly we go through every gallery, every image… Once in a while he flags one because he wants to ask a question or he wants me to make a print of it. To be presented to the subject on the photo… as a gift. This moment, the first showing of the images, the big first moment, “Are they going to like it? Will they approve?”, actually goes by without a glitch.

I also tell him i’m slowly starting to see the way i want to tell the story, so i show him my first sequenced spread layout on screen. only 20 images. I talk about my views, what i have seen, what i have learned, and that i am setting the mood in this “first chapter”. He agrees and thinks i should continue in the same way.

—

I’m in the front seat, riding with Soichiro in his car on his way to Shinjuku. “One cuts off one’s finger to make a point”, Soichiro explains while driving. “Usually to show the sincerity of an apology after doing something wrong.”

“You cut off a single digit of your own finger in a ceremonial way, while facing your boss, and then you present the severed finger on a folded napkin to him. It reinforces the power of your apology. It shows that you’re serious about what you’re saying.”

Somehow, i don’t feel like questioning that.

—

Post Scriptum:

A month ago, the annual go-around was banned by law; this is effectively the last picture of this happening in the streets of Kabukicho:

—

About the Work

Soichiro is the lead character of the story that i’m starting to tell, about a Yakuza family in Japan. After more than 10 months of preparation, my brother and I have been granted access to start a long-term project to document the visible and hidden life of that particular family. All names used in the account above (and previous and future accounts) are fictional.

Here and on burn magazine, i will regularly provide visual and textual accounts of our adventures.

B+W magazine, special issue #68, 2009

Kabukicho, Shinjuku, Tokyo -

Going deeper underground… Walking the streets with Soichiro and his family. Kabukicho is the red light, food & gambling district of Shinjuku, smack in the middle of Tokyo.

We gather at his office, where he shows me the work of Watanabe Katsumi, a japanese street photographer of this particular district who, for about 40 years, barely making a living, sold his street photographs back to his subjects. Amazing stuff.

I’m surprised that somehow he must have taken the time to research this book and lend it to me to look in. We talk about photography, the schedule that lies ahead of us, and the places he and his family are going to take us to. I am impressed what is in store for us. And excited.

—

Some of the other family members arrive at the office. Everyone is waiting outside, time to go.

—

I’m definitely aware of the weird mix of feelings while walking the streets at night with them, in ‘their’ burrough. A mix of respect, fear, clueless-ness, anger and admiration from the people, the hustlers, the shopkeepers, the prostitutes, the restaurants, the tourists, the club owners,…

It’s my first night out shooting. We’re on a so-called “go-around”, where the whole family gathers in fine suits to walk the streets collectively, greeting everyone, being greeted by everyone, in effect unmistakably showing everyone that they are, simply, ‘there’.

The message is crystal clear.

—

Two regular japanese guys walk up to me, smiling and gesturing friendly, apparently wanting to see my pictures.

I see Soichiro in the corner of my eye taking an immediate distance and signaling me, that this is in fact undercover police… The family disperses, like nothing ever happened… Just in time I have the presence of mind to start playing dumb and speak in a way too loud voice “tourist, tourist, picture”…. and I take off in another direction.

They don’t follow me. Close call.

And thus ends the first shoot.

Anton, april 2009

—

About the Work

Soichiro is the lead character of the story that i’m starting to tell, about a Yakuza family in Japan. After more than 10 months of preparation, my brother and I have been granted access to start a long-term project to document the visible and hidden life of that particular family. All names used in the account above (and previous and future accounts) are fictional.

Here and on burn magazine, i will regularly provide visual and textual accounts of our adventures.

I hope to be able to publish a book on this story.

Thanks to my dear friend Angelo Guarracino and Giovanna Lalatta from SPAZIOFARINI6 gallery in Milan,
6 large high quality prints from “sugar” are featured in the Milan Photofestival VIII.

Needless to say, i am very proud to be part of this event… the opening is March 15th, the festival runs till April 15th…

Go ahead, jump in the car and be there, take a look in person, soak it in, and support me by buying a limited edition print!

oh and… you can view a pdf of the leaflet.

cheers,
anton

We both committed to BURN in NYC in December 2008 (after a large gathering of great friends & fellows where the BURN idea actually crystallized – read this), shook hands, and simply went for it. I know we launched on an impossible moment right before or after Christmas – I can’t remember which day exactly – but right now, either one of those days sounds like impeccably bad timing from our part :-)

And throughout the first month we called each other daily… setting up essays, finding new talent, going through submissions, helping photographers deliver their essays and singles, taking care of the tech side, setting up an essay system, spinning ideas….

These days we still call each other daily. Make the editor’s decisions together. Discuss BURN’s future and how we should handle it. Half of the time I’m hopping between Brussels and Japan, and David’s flying from Mexico to Spain to NYC… The time zone differences are massive. We work together from different continents but we do it really well, only needing “half a word” to understand and act. This is our strength…

Of course there are people helping out right now, to whom we are massively indebted… Michael Courvoisier, Bob Black, Kerry Payne, Chris Bradley, and many others that are going to kill me for forgetting them, are all doing extremely valuable work… And of course not to forget the past work of the whole team at the infamous BURN initial meetup at the Kibbutz in NYC……. thanks a million……..

David’s DAH man, but BURN is the both of us together… together making the editorial decisions, guiding the photographers to submit their work, doing the online and offline mentoring, Work-in-Progress and workshops, preparing the carefully targeted marketing of BURN, pitching the BURN story and our ideas to the right people – or at least, what we think are the right people… Looking for funding, hiring staff, freelancers and searching for talent, literally putting young photographers out there to create content for BURN, doing the same with iconic photographers, and pushing forward with the incredible stuff we still have in store…

Keep an eye on BURN… it’s massive. It’s there.

www.burnmagazine.org

Meet Soichiro.

He has agreed to us getting to know each other. Through the barriers of different languages and cultures, we will be approaching each other with the broadest possible open mind. To learn, to tell our stories. To gain trust and to share views.

—

Soichiro and his family control Kabukicho, in the heart of Shinjuku, Tokyo. Not much happens in the streets without his approval.

—

After more than 10 months of preparation and ground work by my brother and our dear friend Taka-san, finally, for the first time, we all meet over dinner. At first, Soichiro lays down the rules. Tells us what we want to achieve is near impossible. He says that the things we want to document, no outsider has ever been allowed to bear witness to. We eat, drink, smoke, and exchange gifts.

—

He invites us to his office. we talk some more. I show previous work, I show prints of Oaxaca and I show prints of “Sugar”. He tells me I photograph with a Japanese eye. He laughs when we ask if it’s true that all family members have tattoos, and if it’s painful to get one.

Then he shows his.

Each tattoo is so personal, he says, full of meaning to the bearer and his family. Only Sensei Horikyo tattoos for his family.

—

No rush. He understands and wants us to take time to get to know his family, time to develop our view. He believes in our way of working, and is confident we will bring this to a good end. He thinks in years, not days or weeks or months.

He does a lot of legwork in his family. Even though he his a boss, he still speaks to his bosses who in turn speak with their bosses. Within two days, we are invited to witness a closed meeting. Four members apologizing to the family for being in jail. My brother and I are nervous as hell going in.

No pictures allowed yet, but now we know. Soichiro walked the walk and committed. Our project has begun for the next couple of years. My brother and I… and Soichiro. Becoming friends, telling the story… I hope everything will work out.

—

Anton Kusters, january 2009

(over the next few months, i will actively be seeking funding, to be able to complete this long-term project)

A story set in Oaxaca, Mexico, during the Day of the Dead (Dia de los Muertos), about the ghosts that are the fleeting moments of our existence in this world.

“I see a Ghost” has been published in B+W Magazine, special issue #68, 2009. More info here.

hey folks…

proud to tell you that “sugar” is being featured over at burn magazine, an evolving journal for emerging photographers….

burn is curated by magnum photographer and dear friend david alan harvey…

hello.

The story “sugar” will be featured on slideluck potshow DC III this weekend (saturday nov 15th, 7.00pm EST). They teamed up with Fotoweek/DC. i feel greatly honored to be included… so please go and check it out…

birgit is a dreamy dreamgirl
six years old always happy
gets up in the morning does her hair
diabetes the number one kind

playing with friends
riding the bike
four insuline injections
each and every day

barbie dolls and trampolines
beaches, oceans and corn flakes
seven daily blood checks
baby-G with six alarms

intimate, close
always happy
sometimes pain
she’s an angel

———-

“Sugar” is a story about Birgit, a six year old sweet kiddo. She’s been diagnosed with diabetes about a year ago. Incurable. This story is about how, through her, I myself am being confronted with the fact that her illness is much more of an issue to me than it is to her. She taught me a lesson there… The things that are on top of a kid’s list, should in fact be on top of anyone’s list:

Life is about playing with friends and family and having fun as much as you possibly can.

These intimate, close images, are freeze-frames out of her daily life. Random. Lots of different moments. Almost no visual context. Bare essentials. More about feeling the moment than looking at the moment.

There is no beginning and no end. A collection without order. You will recognise inside, outside, darkness, light, a bike, a bed or even a beach. But they are all irrelevant…

Just try to hear the laughter, hear the playing… Remember your own childhood… Feel like you’re there up close with her, her brother and her sister. Sometimes she will notice you and say hi. Sometimes she will play and laugh with you until her stomach aches. Sometimes you feel like you need to let her be, dreaming.

She stares into the sea.

—

Sugar has been published on Burn Magazine, Slideluck Potshow DC III 2009, and has been exhibited in the Milan Photo Festival VIII 2009. More info here…

Braakland ZheBilding…

ten young actors in a play about
their fears
their hopes
their secrets
their shames
their inability
to do anything about it…

- set in an abandoned hospital wing -

“i’ve got so much to do, so much to achieve, how can i ever have the time to do it all…”

so easy…

just drop me a line at anton[at]antonkusters.com…

or fill in the form here: