I’m quite fond of these two, together especially. A couple of houses on a hill, overlooking the Lysefjord in the southern part of Norway. When I’m done editing a series, and I’ve lived with it for some time, I often start making pairs. See what works together and what not. Sometimes digging up pictures that I dismissed earlier, a bit helpless on their own, but possibly benefiting from some company. It’s like an exercise in looking, at structures, lines, colours, composition, but most of all an exercise in acting on your gut feeling. I still don’t really know what makes a dyptich work for me. It’s about finding a balance between similarities and differences. And often, it’s about perspective and adding a sense of space or scale.
I like it if it’s not perfect. And it never is, that’s the really good thing about pairs. How there is always some friction, some discomfort about their imposed alliance. Whatever you may think of my singles, in terms of framing and composition, they are generally easy on the eye and well thought out, up to a point that I find them a bit boring sometimes. In that respect, making pairs is also an exercise in accepting flaws and imperfections, and coming to appreciate them.
The ones above are taken from practically the same location. I like them for their colour combination, the different perspectives on the roofs, and the obvious shift of time. But as a composition it’s far from flawless. Although it works in the foreground, I would rather not have slopes running in the same direction. That’s why I took them a bit further apart. Which is another interesting variable that comes into play: how much distance they require. Or allow.