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Carpe diem. Seize the moment. Live in the here and now.

I want to learn that skill, one step at a time.

It's difficult.

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What kind of living in the moment is it when I find myself drawn to the photographs my grandfather took in the 1910s-1930s in Ostrobothnia? The people in these photos are truly still, yet so present and so real. The exposure time for the photos lasted several seconds. When my grandfather set off on his auxiliary motorcycle to a neighboring municipality to photograph a commissioned image—perhaps of a funeral or a wedding couple—he carried with him two unexposed negatives. The moment that was captured was carefully planned: the setting, the lighting, the poses, the framing. The collaboration between the photographer and the subject had to work seamlessly at the very moment the film was exposed.

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What speaks to me most in these images are the different family idylls and the rough edges that are revealed within them. I am also astonished by the turn-of-the-century practice of photographing the deceased. The people in the photos are so present; life is present, death is present. Today, thousands of photos are snapped in everyday situations, but the century-old custom of photographing the deceased is jarring. At that time, a photo of the deceased might have been the only photograph ever taken of that person. It was a memory, a moment that was meant to be remembered.

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How is the same thing viewed today, and how was it viewed then?

What has been made visible?

What was seen, and what was unseen?

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Photographs, videos, color images, and photo archive:

Satu Drufva 2007-2010 (Granddaughter of Matti Koskinen)

Old glass negatives: Matti Koskinen 1910-1940

Stories: Laura Pörsti 2010 (Great-granddaughter of Matti Koskinen)

Exhibition displayed: TR1, Tampere 2010, Nelimarkka Museum, Alajärvi 2011

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