The Lost Scrapbook
27e oktober
vill massor. nästan för mycket. hinner mycket, men inte allt jag vill.
världen tycks, ännu mer så, sedan jag satte ner mina väskor på den grånande parketten i ett hus här i london, - snurra som en karusell. någon har tryckt på fast forward där jag som om sitter på en av de bedagat färgglada hästarna på den gamla karusellen vid sacre cœur. ansikten, musik, restauranger, säsonger; allt verkar hinna skifta för varje varv runt.
runt, runt & runt igen, i ett nästan vansinnigt tempo.
jag älskar det på det där sättet jag också älskar karuseller, med en
lite hisnande känsla i magen av skräckblandad förtjusning.
så försöker jag vänja mig vid vad jag lärt mig,
- att den där vildhästen de försökt tämja, den de genomborrat och fäst för evigt vid en stav av guld, den dansar ändå upp & ner och ger folk pirr i magen.
jag är nog både vild och tam, tänker jag
när jag ser min reflektion i den enorma marmor-spegeln i badrummet,
som alltid är lite för immig för att få ordning på något.
1a november
m's syster sminkar mitt ansikte till halv sugar skull
medan mörkret faller över vår lördag och nattens fest väntar.
jag möter min dia de los muertos som reflektion i spegeln,
den som står lutad mot väggen i sovrummet.
vänder ena sidan till och ser fullkomligt harmlös ut,
om än med håret i en tovig, stor hästsvans.
bara en stressad ros på kinden och snäll, vit spetsklänning.
vänder andra sidan till och ser ut som just döden, doppad i socker.
djupaste svart, renaste vitt och ihåliga illusioner. lite som frida kahlo's spöke,
i blodröd bedagad ros som överlevt hela milda hösten.
den gör mig yr med sin söta doft.
på höga, svarta klackar säger jag hej då till hösten,
vinkar till vintern och signalerar de som inte längre finns med oss.
4e november
jag fotograferar kimonos som flugits hit från LW,
fingrar förundrat på bomulls-spets och liten ben-måne.
som det kan bli, från skisser till färdigt, med kärlek emellan.
sakerna ligger kvar på golvet sedan, i en ett enda kaos
och jag måste bara arrangera dem i någon slags ordning.
jag tror att jag sorterar mina känslor medan jag
flyttar och lägger till, tar bort.
jag överdoserar handkräm i vackra tuber.
hade glömt, igen, hur motsträvig min hud blir på vintern,
som papper som inte vill ha ord på sig. så har det varit här,
jag har skrivit små anteckningar, men inte känt mig klar.
men jag blir ju aldrig klar, tänker jag i dag.
5e november
så samlar jag ihop några av den här tidens bilder. och orden.
och så får de bilda en hälsning till Er som är här,
för det tycker jag så mycket om, att vara här en stund med Er.
även och kanske ännu mer när jag vill massor.
nästan för mycket. hinner mycket, men inte allt jag vill.
när livet känns som karusellen vid sacre cœur, på fast forward.
medeski, martin & wood | miami gato
vi köper en gammal skrivmaskin, en underwood, för ett
projekt vi påbörjat tillsammans, m & jag.
när vi trixar med färgbanden blir vi svarta om fingrarna
och mitt hjärta allt djupare rött.
det är den 5e november och det är guy fawkes.
vi ska se fyrverkeri från en bar i sagohögt glastorn
och säkert dricka mer än en drink för mycket.
just nu är jag förälskad i lychee martinis
och medeski, martin & wood.
deras miami gato går på repeat när jag redigerar.
tack för att Ni tar min hand,
delar bedagad karusellhäst med mig en stund.
kärlek,
h
black and whites | rorschach girl 1, 2 & 3 | model : lina lindholm | self-portrait flatlay | n°1 : new fave lace dress from pins and needles / urban outfitters, wolf clan shaggy cardi from spell, bones & skulls skull necklace by LW room | studio bulb from artilleriet, mine and sara's Warriors of the World for LW sold as fine art prints in the LW online shop and at LW retailers typewriter | words i clattered on to a page from beautiful magazine oak / the nordic journal's current issue - volume two (photo of stunning helena christensen by olivia frölich) thank you | for you, m | baby sister e for always being there, even from a distance
© hannah lemholt photography
//
october 27th
i want to do so much. almost too much. manage quite a lot, but not everything i want.
the world seem, even more so since i put my bags down on
the greying parquet in a house here in london, - to be spinning like a carousel.
someone has also pressed fast forward where i am, as if sitting on one of
the fading colorful horses, on the old carousel by the sacre cœur.
faces, music, restaurants, seasons; everything seems to have shifted by each new turn.
round and round and round again, in an almost insane pace.
i love it in the same way i also love carousels, with a
somewhat breathtaking feeling of terror mingled delight.
i try to get used to what i’ve learned; that the wild horse they tried to tame,
the one they’ve transfixed forever by a rod of gold,
- it still dances up & down, filling peoples bellies with butterflies.
i'm probably both wild and tame, i think to myself when i see
my reflection in the huge marble mounted mirror in the bathroom,
which is always a bit too misty to really get anything in order.
november 1st
m's sister paints my face into half of a sugarskull
as darkness falls over our saturday and the night's party awaits.
i meet my dia de los muertos reflection in the mirror,
the one leaning against the wall in the bedroom.
turning my right side i look absolutely harmless and innocent,
albeit with my hair in a matted big ponytail.
just a rose on the cheek from rushing and that sweet, white lace dress.
turning my left side i look like death, just dipped in sugar.
deepest of black, pure white and hollow illusions.
a bit like frida kahlo's ghost, in blood-red withering rose; a lone
survivor of this mild autumn, making me dizzy with its sweet scent.
on high black heels, i say goodbye to fall,
wave to winter and heliograph the ones no longer with us.
november 4th
i shoot kimonos flown here from LW in stockholm.
stroke in wonder the cotton lace and tiny moons made of bone.
what a journey, from sketches to finished, with love in between.
the things are left on the floor after, all in chaos
and i just have to arrange them in some kind of order, take their picture.
i think i sort my feelings as i move around, add & take away.
i overdose on hand cream in beautiful tubes.
i’d forgotten, again, how reluctant my skin gets in wintertime,
like paper that doesn’t want words written on it. that’s how it’s been here;
i’ve written small notes, untold as it’s all felt unfinished.
but i’ll never be finished, i think to myself today.
november 5th
and so i gather some of the photos from this period. and the words.
and so they form a hello to those of you who are here,
cause i like so much to be here for a while with you.
also, and perhaps even more so, - when i want to do so much.
almost too much. when i manage quite a lot, but not everything i want.
when life feels like that carousel by the sacre cœur, on fast forward.
we buy an old typewriter, an underwood, for a project
we’ve started together, m & i.
when we juggle the ink ribbon, our fingers turn black
and my heart a deepening red.
it's the 5th of november and guy fawkes night.
we'll watch the fireworks from a bar in a fairytale tall glass tower
and probably have more than one drink too many.
right now i'm in love with lychee martinis
and medeski, martin & wood.
their miami gato is on repeat when i edit.
thank you for taking my hand,
sharing faded carousel horse with me for a while.
x,
h
© hannah lemholt photography
//
october 27th
i want to do so much. almost too much. manage quite a lot, but not everything i want.
the world seem, even more so since i put my bags down on
the greying parquet in a house here in london, - to be spinning like a carousel.
someone has also pressed fast forward where i am, as if sitting on one of
the fading colorful horses, on the old carousel by the sacre cœur.
faces, music, restaurants, seasons; everything seems to have shifted by each new turn.
round and round and round again, in an almost insane pace.
i love it in the same way i also love carousels, with a
somewhat breathtaking feeling of terror mingled delight.
i try to get used to what i’ve learned; that the wild horse they tried to tame,
the one they’ve transfixed forever by a rod of gold,
- it still dances up & down, filling peoples bellies with butterflies.
i'm probably both wild and tame, i think to myself when i see
my reflection in the huge marble mounted mirror in the bathroom,
which is always a bit too misty to really get anything in order.
november 1st
m's sister paints my face into half of a sugarskull
as darkness falls over our saturday and the night's party awaits.
i meet my dia de los muertos reflection in the mirror,
the one leaning against the wall in the bedroom.
turning my right side i look absolutely harmless and innocent,
albeit with my hair in a matted big ponytail.
just a rose on the cheek from rushing and that sweet, white lace dress.
turning my left side i look like death, just dipped in sugar.
deepest of black, pure white and hollow illusions.
a bit like frida kahlo's ghost, in blood-red withering rose; a lone
survivor of this mild autumn, making me dizzy with its sweet scent.
on high black heels, i say goodbye to fall,
wave to winter and heliograph the ones no longer with us.
november 4th
i shoot kimonos flown here from LW in stockholm.
stroke in wonder the cotton lace and tiny moons made of bone.
what a journey, from sketches to finished, with love in between.
the things are left on the floor after, all in chaos
and i just have to arrange them in some kind of order, take their picture.
i think i sort my feelings as i move around, add & take away.
i overdose on hand cream in beautiful tubes.
i’d forgotten, again, how reluctant my skin gets in wintertime,
like paper that doesn’t want words written on it. that’s how it’s been here;
i’ve written small notes, untold as it’s all felt unfinished.
but i’ll never be finished, i think to myself today.
november 5th
and so i gather some of the photos from this period. and the words.
and so they form a hello to those of you who are here,
cause i like so much to be here for a while with you.
also, and perhaps even more so, - when i want to do so much.
almost too much. when i manage quite a lot, but not everything i want.
when life feels like that carousel by the sacre cœur, on fast forward.
we buy an old typewriter, an underwood, for a project
we’ve started together, m & i.
when we juggle the ink ribbon, our fingers turn black
and my heart a deepening red.
it's the 5th of november and guy fawkes night.
we'll watch the fireworks from a bar in a fairytale tall glass tower
and probably have more than one drink too many.
right now i'm in love with lychee martinis
and medeski, martin & wood.
their miami gato is on repeat when i edit.
thank you for taking my hand,
sharing faded carousel horse with me for a while.
x,
h
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