Woman at Ekebergparken

Sculpture at Ekebergparken

Sculpture at Ekebergparken

Ref: «self-portrait in tits» that I posted the other day.

“Human relationships didn’t work anyhow. Only the first two weeks had any zing, then the participants lost their interest. Masks dropped away and real people began to appear: cranks, imbeciles, the demented, the vengeful, sadists, killers. Modern society had created its own kind and they feasted on each other. It was a duel to the death–in a cesspool.”
― Charles Bukowski, Women

A Portrait of Tore

Five photos / five stories black and white challenge: This is a portrait of my friend Tore Kierulf Næss. I can’t remember exactly when I took this photo, but if I say that it was shot sometime between 2004-2009, I’m pretty sure that I’ve nailed it time-wise.


Tore Kierulf Næss (born 21 February 1973) is a Norwegian master of philosophy, writer and art critic.

Tore Næss was an art critic for the Norwegian newspaper Klassekampen from 2005-2009 and was also the founder and editor of the art magazines Kunstmagasinet and KUNSTforum. Since 2009, Kierulf Tore Næss has been a medical student at the University of Oslo and has worked as an editor for the medical student paper Æsculap during the years 2011-2013. (Source: Wikipedia).

Tore and myself once held up a whole boat when we were on our way from Turkey to Greece. We’d been enjoying some wine at a local place and suddenly realized that we had to run in order to make it to the ferry. A turkish man from the customs came running after us on the docks, while waving his arms, screaming and yelling our names. We were almost afraid to stop and thought for a brief moment that we were on the verge of being arrested and charged with something ridiculous, like being in charge of an international league of drug smugglers or something like that. When the out of breath officer caught up with us, he held our passports in his hand and said, with a heavy accent:
“Mista Nas, Mista Max, You forgot your passports”.
A large crowd of tourists stood by the gunwale on the ship and laughed heartily with us of the little scene that had just happened on the docks.


  • Miz Rocket challenged me to a five photos / five stories black and white challenge. This has been the first out of five posts.
  • These are the rules of this challenge:
    1) To post a black & white photo every day for 5 days.
    2) To write a story to accompany your photo for 5 days (this can be fiction or non-fiction, a page, a paragraph or a poem).
    3) To nominate a different person each day.


  • I’m not a big fan of rules, so I made my own interpretation to fit me:
  • 1) I’ll post 5 black & white photos in 5 different posts (on any random day and I might post other stuff in between those 5 posts).
    2) I’ll let some text accompany these 5 shots (but it might be a quote or a poem written by someone else if I don’t feel like sharing anything).
    3) I’ll nominate a different person each day. This will probably be some random who’s not actively following the blog. (We all have blog followers that you never see around, so I’m thinking that this can be a good way of interacting with them).

My first nomination is Nia from photographyofnia.com. Nia loves cats, trees & birds and she lives in the beautiful city of Istanbul (but it was pure coincidence that she lives in Turkey and that this post had a story that happened in Turkey – I didn’t know this when I nominated her). Just like me, Nia doesn’t accept awards, but she might be up for this black & white photo/story challenge?
You can see Nia’s latest post here: http://photographyofnia.com/2015/05/15/ill-be-right-here-waiting-for-you/

Edit: I just dicovered that Nia has a blog dedicated to B&W photos: https://blackandwhiteshotsofnia.wordpress.com/2015/03/13/nothing-left-to-eat/

Self-portrait with Mohawk

I have recently moved. Now I live in a smaller apartment than what we had, but without the wife and the brain-numbing TV.


I had to try out some new gear and I didn’t have any models around…

I have recently moved. Now I live in a smaller apartment than what we had, but without the wife and the brain-numbing TV. She got the TV. I didn’t want it anyway. She didn’t want me, but she wanted the TV. It’s more entertaining I guess. The downstairs neighbor in the old place used to reek of cigarettes. On a regular basis he came home drunk and argued loudly with his dumb girlfriend. One time she called on the intercom and said «I’m going to the ground floor» (That’s where she lived – we lived in the apartment above). I don’t know why, but I buzzed her in. I should have asked her why the fuck she used our doorbell, when she already knew that wasn’t where she was going…
Sometimes, when they argued loudly (I’m still talking about the neighbors), they used to smash stuff. Tore down shelves from the walls and shit. Then we would have to listen to the guy hammering for days afterwards, as he was fixing up his place again. He was an annoying, but yet an interesting character and he was very friendly when he was sober.

Now that I’ve moved, I live back in the same building that we used to live in a couple of years ago. Back on the rental market. I think that we spent four or five years here last time we lived here. When my son was born, we still lived here for a few months. Now he’s two years old and I’m back. He’s back too, because he lives with me half of the time (Luckily my ex wasn’t one of those bitches that take the kid and leave), but I doubt that he has any recollection of having lived here before. It’s the same flat too, the difference is that it’s two floors higher up than last time and that the ceiling us much higher in this apartment compared to the previous one. It makes it seem bigger. Technically speaking it is bigger, but the size of the floor is still the same. It’ll be a bitch to heat up this place in the winters. I guess we’ll have to wear jackets inside.
I have a better view than before, but everything is crooked. If you put a ball on the floor, gravity will make sure that the ball rolls down to the corner of the living room…

There’s many new people in the building since the last time I lived here, so I don’t know them all yet, but I know a handful of them. The landlord has changed the doors in the hallways here. They used to have glass in them. Now they’re solid and more sound and fire-proof, but I can still fart in the hallway and blame the neighbor.
Once, I guess it must have been four or five years ago, there was this guy that was visiting someone who lived in this building. They weren’t home, but he slept on the floor in their living room.
Now, how do I know that he slept on their floor?

One night everyone in the building woke up from the smell of fire and a fire alarm going off. We gathered in the stairs, all of us were half asleep, half-naked and ugly. We located where the smoke & sound came from and I I tried to look inside, but there was curtains hanging in the windows of the doors, plus the apartment was filled with smoke, so I couldn’t see shit. I felt the door with my hand to check if it was warm, but it wasn’t. If you ever find yourself in a similar situation and the door is warm – then don’t fucking open it!!
I smashed the window with my knuckles, stretched my arm inside, opened the lock and the door.
Some neighbors ran into the kitchen, put out the fire that the pizza had started in the oven and opened the windows to let the smoke out. I went directly into the living room and found this guy sleeping on a mattress on the floor.
I grabbed him and started shaking him wildly. He woke up, totally confused, with the apartment full of smoke and neighbors, while I was shaking the shit out of him with my bleeding knuckles and screaming:
«this is the last fucking time that you make a fucking pizza and go to sleep you dumb shit!!!».

The day after he came knocking on my door. He was obviously uncomfortable, because he was blushing and he didn’t dare to meet my eyes. With a weak voice he thanked me for saving his life the night before.
“Don’t worry about it” I said, “but don’t make a pizza again when you’re drunk”.

It’s fascinating how thousands of years have shaped us into who we are, even on subconscious levels that we’re not aware about.

The self-portrait in this post is from a test run that I had with some new gear. I’m sorry that I didn’t have any models around…

Israel 1970’s: The Boys

More photos from my Israel 1970’s series.

These photos were taken by one of my contacts in Israel. Check out the other photos here: https://cardinalguzman.wordpress.com/category/photography/israel-1970s/

This post is from my drafts folder and it’s an entry for Paula’s B&W post: https://bopaula.wordpress.com/2015/03/22/black-white-sunday-distortion/

Portrait of a Musician


Knut Neerland is a Norwegian photographer and musician. I took this photo probably around 2001-2003.

I guess this photo could have been the cover art for an album. The guy playing guitar on the photo is Knut.
Knut and I met through mutual friends and he’s a guest musician on several of my ‘recordings’.

If you’re interested in listening, here’s a tune we recorded many years ago. This recording is from an early rehearsal of the song. The lyrics are based on a short story by Franz Kafka and the video has nothing to do with the song at all. It was just something I added so there’s something to watch while the song is playing.

You can find more music here: https://cardinalguzman.wordpress.com/music/