Anyhow Stories

Anyhow Stories - Photography Essay Anyhow Stories is a collaborative photography project between a writer and a photographer.

The Writer creates a story and reveals it to the photographer by describing one image at a time. The Photographer shoots the image and submits it back to the writer. The style and the content of the photographer’s images possibly alter the story line from the original. The outcome is narrative photography essay, a synthesis of a dialogue between the text and the photograph.

This is a work-in-progress blog. The final outcome will be a series of photographs presented in a Helsinki based gallery. The content of this blog may or may not be included in the final creation.

Story by Sami Vikstrom
Photography by Tuomas Uusheimo
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I suppose she just wanted to say she’s not that easy. At the same time, I have a nagging feeling that she left the minute she had got what she had come for. No one in the restaurant can tell which way she went while I was in the toilet. The drunk artist at the next table hardly remembers her at all: he just goes on and on about his summer hideout where he plans to escape the dumb middle class. Why did I tell all those things to a complete stranger? Sure, she gave me a helping hand, but wasn’t she around a little bit too conveniently? She seems to have a talent of making you open up to her completely, while revealing nothing of any importance about herself: where she lives, what she does, what she likes and what she hates. Even the memory of her appearance seems to fade away the very instant she’s gone.

I suppose she just wanted to say she’s not that easy. At the same time, I have a nagging feeling that she left the minute she had got what she had come for.

No one in the restaurant can tell which way she went while I was in the toilet. The drunk artist at the next table hardly remembers her at all: he just goes on and on about his summer hideout where he plans to escape the dumb middle class.

Why did I tell all those things to a complete stranger? Sure, she gave me a helping hand, but wasn’t she around a little bit too conveniently? She seems to have a talent of making you open up to her completely, while revealing nothing of any importance about herself: where she lives, what she does, what she likes and what she hates. Even the memory of her appearance seems to fade away the very instant she’s gone.

I could do it if I had to. Afterwards I would say it was self-defense, which in a way is true. Somehow I start thinking of my grandfather. He used to talk about the war in his last years. Maybe he wanted to make some kind of confession, though everybody knows that one had no choice at the time.  Still, it struck me as really strange that the most gentle and kind person in the family had been capable of such things. One time, he encountered an enemy soldier and having no bullets left, cut the man’s throat wide open. The forest was swarming with hostile forces and he couldn’t move an inch without being noticed. So he had to wait there, watching a young man’s face turn lifeless. The two of them sat there - side by side - watching the sun go down. When it got dark and safe enough to leave, one got up and the other kept on sitting for good.    

I could do it if I had to. Afterwards I would say it was self-defense, which in a way is true.

Somehow I start thinking of my grandfather. He used to talk about the war in his last years. Maybe he wanted to make some kind of confession, though everybody knows that one had no choice at the time.  Still, it struck me as really strange that the most gentle and kind person in the family had been capable of such things. One time, he encountered an enemy soldier and having no bullets left, cut the man’s throat wide open. The forest was swarming with hostile forces and he couldn’t move an inch without being noticed. So he had to wait there, watching a young man’s face turn lifeless. The two of them sat there - side by side - watching the sun go down. When it got dark and safe enough to leave, one got up and the other kept on sitting for good.    

There was a faint draft and an odor that didn’t belong to the room but she didn’t pay much attention to it. That is the only thing she can remember of it afterwards. She has an odd, evasive look on her face, as if that was the only thing she actually wanted to tell about the whole thing. But since I can’t be sure, I don’t want to press the matter any further.

There was a faint draft and an odor that didn’t belong to the room but she didn’t pay much attention to it. That is the only thing she can remember of it afterwards. She has an odd, evasive look on her face, as if that was the only thing she actually wanted to tell about the whole thing. But since I can’t be sure, I don’t want to press the matter any further.

I could have fixed the satchel. She told me to do it about a hundred times. I could have emailed the file to my home address: there’s not a soul in the office after 8pm, and nobody bothers to keep any passwords in their workstations. But the damn things were left next to the printer as if they wanted to be found. 

I could have fixed the satchel. She told me to do it about a hundred times. I could have emailed the file to my home address: there’s not a soul in the office after 8pm, and nobody bothers to keep any passwords in their workstations. But the damn things were left next to the printer as if they wanted to be found.