This is not me, or:
Night At The Museum
To pitch editorial work to magazines, I developed a concept for a personal project. The idea:
I wanted to juxtapose the present with history and ancient geological time in a single image.
The images turned out well. Elaborate, dramatic—exactly as planned. And yet, when I got home, all I could think was: This is not me.
The planning was meticulous. Three hours in the museum, carefully carrying the equipment through the corridors with every change of location, and in the end, I had these images: drama, extravagance, editorial.
A gruelling day. On the way back, the taxi driver complained about the ladder. Then, at home: reviewing, sorting—and trying to understand my own less-than-enthusiastic reaction.
What I had to accept: No matter how well everything had worked, this is not me. Not because it was bad, but because it simply wasn’t mine.
It took me over a week to reconcile with this. Now, I can show the images because the alienation they triggered in me is still part of who I am.
I’m pleased to present these outliers here: something that isn’t me—and yet something I created.
I spontaneously restructured the concept, blending the location-scouting shots with the final images. The result: Night at the Museum.
I’d like to know: Have you ever had a moment like this? Given so much—only to realise in the end: This is not me.
Model: Rike