KE LLY BERNH EIM
“It has do to with curiosity, it has to do with people wondering what makes something do something, and then they discover, if they try to find answers that they are related to each other. That things that make the winds make the waves, that the motion of water is like the motion of air, is like the motion of sand. The fact that things have common features turns out more and more universal.“ Richard P. Feynman, 11.5.1918-15.2.1988, quantum physicist, from “take the world from another point of view”, Yorkshire Television interview, 1973.
I was 18 years old when I began taking photographs with a group of friends from school. After class ended or on days off, we would ride off on our mopeds and take photographs of the countryside around Geneva. I remember Patrick used a friend’s Nikon, while I shot with an old Kodak Retina that my father had bought when he was a young man. Patrick would even fashion a darkroom in his bathroom where we developed our first prints.
I am attracted to deserted or sparsely populated spaces, to muted shapes and places where the pressures of modern life doesn’t weigh quite so heavily.
Photography was a field of endless possibilities and unlimited freedom.
When I take photographs, I am overcome with a feeling of escape. I allow myself to be carried away by the sensations that are set in motion by the act of observing. Photography infuses me with serenity, I become myself again, I am raised beyond bonds, beyond responsibilities, and even beyond doubt.
Time, the lifeblood of photography, began to evaporate: medical school, specialization, family life, the daily routine as a general practitioner… I never had enough time to try and tame this medium. Yet I was always hungry for colors. That’s why I began to paint. And then one day, almost ten years ago, I bought a digital camera and a laptop. I suddenly had a different set of instruments in my hands, more complex but still capable of reviving my neglected passion. Like every year, I pack my suitcase and leave on vacation, in search of adventure with my family. But this time I carry my camera in my bag. It alters my way of seeing things, I no longer focus on the needs of others with the strict attention required to make a diagnosis or to manage the long list of daily tasks; I instead embrace a slower, softer perspective that provides an entirely different rhythm and opens the way to new visions of things. I spend as much time as possible outdoors, under the open skies. Breathe, discover, observe.
I like to be reminded of the enormous contrast between my metronymic routine as a doctor working within the four walls of an office and the vast sense of timelessness that prevails elsewhere. These two worlds exist in parallel and each completes the other.
The act of taking a photograph represents an intellectual and an emotional process, a process that is balanced between research and serendipity, between tangible and virtual, between intention and intuition. Here in this space between the physical reality that presents itself to the eye and the indiscernible, the infinitely small, the light itself, there is an opening that offers both a promise of a photograph and an opportunity for intimacy. I like the dynamic that this concentration-search and focus-distance requires: it resembles a sport that we play for both the relaxation it offers and the challenge it provides. My preferred themes are those that evoke the austere, that explore emptiness. It is of little importance whether the resulting image is figurative or abstract.
Rarely do I take photographs that capture human or animal interactions. I prefer spaces, plants, elements. I am drawn to neglected subjects. In fact, these subjects are at their best when they are left to themselves: empty spaces become plane surfaces and lines without context. They retain the observer’s attention while offering an invitation to melt into their quietude. I also like blurred images that become abstract compositions. From an etymological standpoint, to photograph is to write with light; for me, it is also akin to painting with an instrument, the camera. But there are also resonant images that overflow with color and noise, like those taken during the Carnival in Rio. Once the emotions of the moment have dissipated, it is fascinating to look at an image in a more sober light and see how it may have evolved into something entirely different. As a doctor, my vocation is to provide a service, something immaterial that should leave no tangible traces. Yet, like writing in a journal, photographing and painting leave enduring marks of one’s existence. Photography is a medium that corresponds to my natural tendency towards immediacy and impulsivity. The Utopian notion that I am able to preserve life, or at least a precise moment, by taking an image is a feeling that never leaves me. Herrliberg, July 2018 © Kelly Bernheim
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“I don’t have to know an answer, I don’t feel frightened by not knowing things, by being lost in the mysterious universe without any purpose – which is the way it really is - as far as I can tell possibly. It doesn’t frighten me.“ Richard P. Feynman, 11.5.1918-15.2.1988, quantum physicist, from “10 times Richard Feynman blew our minds”, in a BBC Horizon interview.
J’avais 18 ans lorsque j’ai commencé à photographier avec des copains de classe. Après les cours ou pendant les jours libres, nous sortions en mobylette et photographions la campagne genevoise. Patrick avec le Nikon qu’un ami lui avait prêté ; moi je cadrais avec le vieux Kodak Retina de mon père, qu’il avait acheté dans sa jeunesse. Patrick avait même installé un laboratoire photo dans sa salle de bains où nous découvrions nos premiers tirages. La photographie était un champ de possibles et de libertés. Le temps, cette “colonne vertébrale de la photographie” s’est écoulé : les études de médecine, la spécialisation, la vie de famille et mon quotidien de généraliste ne m’ont pas laissé le temps de continuer à apprivoiser ce médium. Mais j’ai toujours eu faim de couleurs. C’est pour cela que je me suis mise à peindre. Puis un jour, il y a presque dix ans, j’ai acheté une un appareil digital et un ordinateur portable. Soudain j’avais dans les mains d’autres instruments, plus complexes mais qui ont réouvert cette passion d’avant que j’avais négligée. Comme chaque année, je boucle ma valise et nous partons en famille, en vacances, à l’aventure. Je change de sacoche : j’échange mon stéthoscope contre mon appareil photo. Je déplace peu à peu mon regard largement tourné vers les autres ; le focus, l’attention qui permet les diagnostics et la gestion du quotidien vers un lent et doux processus qui offre un autre rythme ainsi qu’une autre vision des choses. Être le plus possible en pleinair, à ciel ouvert. Respirer, découvrir, regarder.
Les lieux déserts ou peu peuplés m’attirent, comme les formes assez douces, les lieux où l’on sent moins la pression du temps. J’aime prendre conscience de cet énorme contraste entre mon quotidien “métronomé” de médecin dans ses quatre murs et l’immensité de l’intemporel. Ces deux mondes se complètent et existent en parallèle. Lorsque je photographie, un grand sentiment d’évasion m’envahit. Je me laisse aller au jeu de sensations nouvelles qui émergent sous mon regard. Photographier m’imprègne de sérénité, je me retrouve seule avec moi-même, au-delà de tous liens, de toute responsabilité, même au-delà des doutes. L’acte de photographier représente pour moi un processus intellectuel et émotionnel qui se situe entre recherche et hasard, entre réalité et virtuel, entre intention et intuition. Entre la réalité physique et matérielle qui s’offre à l’oeil et l’indicible, l’infiniment petit, la lumière, s’ouvrent un champ photographique et un espace personnel. J’aime la dynamique nécessaire à cette concentration-recherche et focalisation-distance : un peu comme un sport que l’on pratique pour la détente et le défi qu’il procure. Mes thèmes préférés sont liés au dépouillement, à l’absence de vie humaine et à l’interaction entre lignes, surfaces et couleurs. Peu importe que l’image soit figurative ou abstraite.
Rares sont les photos saisissant des interactions entre personnes ou animaux. Je préfère les espaces, les plantes, les éléments. J’aime les sujets délaissés. D’ailleurs ils se portent mieux lorsqu’ils sont livrés à euxmêmes : les espaces vides deviennent surfaces planes et lignes en dehors de tout contexte. Ils retiennent l’attention du spectateur tout en l’invitant à se fondre dans la profondeur de leur quiétude. J’aime aussi les images floues qui deviennent des compositions abstraites. Étymologiquement, photographier, c’est écrire avec la lumière, et pour moi c’est aussi comme peindre avec cet autre outil qu’est l’appareil photographique. Mais il y a aussi les images tonitruantes, débordantes de couleurs et de bruit, comme celles prises pendant le Carnaval de Rio. Il est fascinant de constater qu’après la dissipation des émotions du moment, l’impression que nous laisse une image revue “à froid” peut être bien différente. En tant que médecin, mon travail est un service rendu, immatériel qui ne laisse pas de traces tangibles. En revanche, un peu comme quand on écrit dans un journal, photographier et peindre laissent des traces visibles et durables de notre existence. La photographie est un médium qui correspond à mon naturel impulsif et rapide. Le sentiment utopique de pouvoir retenir la vie ou le moment-même à chaque déclic m’accompagne toujours. Herrliberg, juillet 2018 © Kelly Bernheim
THANKS
Photo by Ronnie Bernheim
Over the years, more and more people in my private and professional environment encouraged me to go on taking photos and to show them to a larger public. I thank my husband Ronnie and our sons Roy and Ken, my family, friends, patients and many others who expressed their spontaneous reaction when seeing my work. A special thank goes to Yves Kugelmann who introduced me to Anna-Patricia Kahn of CLAIR by Kahn. She initiated this book and supported me in its creation.
I N D E X
5, An Armful, Zurich, Switzerland, 2017
24, Ocean View II, Madeira, Portugal, 2016
6, The Granary, Meknes, Morocco, 2107
25, Ocean View III, Madeira, Portugal, 2016
7, The Dark Room, Copenhagen, Denmark, 2017
26, Cherry Blossoms Abstract, Zurich, Switzerland, 2012
8, The Fortress, Meknes, Morocco, 2017 27, Reflections, Ibiza, Spain, 2014 9, Berber Door, Rabat, Morocco, 2017 28, The Splash, L’Escala, Spain, 2017 10, Dedalus, Copenhagen, Denmark, 2017 29, Gravity, 2018 13, The Antechamber, Meknes, Morocco, 2017 14, The Way Out, Zurich, Switzerland, 2017 15, New Dress for the Old Ceremony, Rabat, Morocco, 2017 16, upper photo: Composition with Cyclamen, 2017 photo below: Remote Lady, 2017
30, À la Recherche du Temps Perdu, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, 2015 31, London W, London, Great Britain, 2012 32, upper photo : Flores de Samba I, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, 2015 photo below: 32, Flores de Samba II, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, 2015
17, Light Chain, Hong Kong, 2012 18, Space, from the series Flying Materials, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, 2018
33: upper photo: Flores de Samba III, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, 2015 photo below: Flores de Samba IV, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, 2015
20, Waterfall, Gullfoss, Iceland, 2015 34, Alegria Brasileira I, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, 2015 22, Ocean View I, Madeira, Portugal, 2016 35, Alegria Brasileira II, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, 2015 23, upper photo: Volupté, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, 2015 lower photo: Beach Front, Bali, Indonesia, 2014
36, The Hurricane, 2017
37, The Blue Door, 2017
56, Still Life, Ilulissat, Greenland, 2017
69, Dusted, Interlaken, Switzerland, 2017
38, Like Smoke, from the series Flying Materials, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, 2018
57, upper photo: Frozen Land, Ilulissat, Greenland, 2017 photo below: Out of a Fairy Tale, Ilulissat, Greenland, 2017
70, Where is Summer?, Herrliberg, Switzerland, 2016
40, Jet Lag, New York, USA, 2013 41, In the Wild, Camp Agama, Namibia, 2012
58, Getting Concrete, Kangerlussuaq, Greenland, 2017
42, Road Trip, Namibia, 2012
72, Frosted, Herrliberg, Switzerland, 2016 73, Flow II, from the series Flying Materials, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, 2018 74, Getting Wild, Zurich, Switzerland, 2016
59, I love you, Ilulissat, Greenland, 2017 43, Gone with the Wind, Mykonos, Greece, 2017 44, Misty Landscape, Iceland, 2015 45, Soaked In, Davos, Switzerland, 2017 46, Apesanteur, from the series Flying Materials, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, 2018
75, In the Mirror, Davos, Switzerland, 2018 60, The Beauty and The Beast, Ilulissat, Greenland, 2017 61, Ice Cubes, Kangerlussuaq, Greenland, 2017 Where is Wally? (Snow Version), Ilulissat, Greenland, 2017 Waiting for Godot, Ilulissat, Greenland, 2017
76, Cy, Zurich, Switzerland, 2017 78, Outrage, 2017 79, Under the Lampshade, 2017 80, Me?, Tel Aviv, Israel, 2012
48, Softice, Ilulissat, Greenland, 2017
62, Flow I, from the series Flying Materials, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, 2018
81, Blue Scarves, 2017
49, Off Track, Davos, Switzerland, 2011 64, Lingering, Araucaria Araucana, Chile, 2017
82, Gigi l’Amoroso, L’Escala, Spain, 2017
50, November Day, Overflying Swiss Mountains, 2017
65, China Girl, Shenzhen, China, 2010
83, Bombshell, Herrliberg, Switzerland, 2017
52, Sleeping, Davos, Switzerland, 2017
66, Misty Day, Chile, 2017
84, Dangerous Curves, 2017
53, Floating Islands, Ilulissat, Greenland, 2017
67, Blow, Florida, USA, 2017
85, Intrusion, 2017
54, The Peak, Overflying Greenland, 2015
68, Fifty Shades of Grey, Interlaken, Switzerland, 2017
55, No man’s Land, Ilulissat, Greenland, 2017
I M P R I N T . Š 2018, Kelly Bernheim, Switzerland Photographer: Kelly Bernheim, www.kellybernheim.com Edited by: Anna-Patricia Kahn, www.clair.me Texts: Kelly Bernheim Translations: Jeremy Mercer Proof Reading: Jeremy Mercer Design: Dirk Uhlenbrock, www.ersteliga.de Retouches: Tobias Winkler Production: Markus Penth Printed and bound: Longo AG, Bolzano, www.longo.media ISBN: 978-3-00-061089-9