Hunting for Bluebirds
Gallery Steinsland Berliner is proud to present the release of Hunting for Bluebirds, a book of photography by Stockholm based photographer Vincent Skoglund (b. 1974, SE). The images have been selected from tens of thousands of slides, prints and negatives shot during Skoglund’s time as an influential traveling snowboard photographer. Hunting for Bluebirds is a poetic account of snowboarding culture during the 90’s and 00’s and the stories and life paths it produced.
In conjunction with the book release, Skoglund’s photography will be exhibited in the gallery space.
There was a fire in all of us.
We revered the aesthetics of energy. We were out to capture a moment. Weightless, boundless. To do something new. Something bigger than anyone before us. We gravitated to riders with their own true style. The ones attempting the impossible, propelled by curiosity. Risking ridicule or injury, but never boredom.
We learned to navigate hazardous terrain. To trust the board like it was an extra limb. The landscape could turn violent in the blink of an eye. It claimed no responsibility for our wellbeing. The weight of a body is not worth more than a sudden gust of wind, treading lightly on an unstable layer of snow. Speed was essential, a ticket out of hairy moments. Like ink in a caligraphy pen, we needed it for the turns. A steady flow of arcs and bends. Every sense on fire, every muscle burning. Within the crew I rode with, we fed off of one another. The way we rode was how we communicated. A secret language of the body, moderated by nature. Disappearing into snowy landscapes with hearts pouding a jazzy tempo. The snow in constant, silent motion. Airs and turns, a wild converstaion.
I was part of a culture that demanded documentation. So photography became my contribution. When I looked at my fellow riders, I didn’t see them, but the potential image of them. I had a responsibility to make the most out of every moment. Because the photograph would outlive us all. I held on to my camera, determined to make my time on this earth worth something. I learned that the mere presence of a camera can make things happen and instigate stupid shit. Image-making can become an incentive for doing dangerous stuff on land, and gnarly tricks on a snowboard. But the camera was witness to a part of you no one could deny. Through the images, the rider became transcendent.
The process of photographing with film was like dreaming. I had nothing but a fleeting idea of what I shot and a handful of film rolls. The images played out in my head like a wordless dance. Full of snow, light and color. Did I get it?