William Rodahl

Bio

I was walking, as I usually do. I was walking without direction, without purpose. It was not dark or light. The lights from the windows sparkled on the horizon. The shadows had tints of greens, blues and reds. The sky and its clouds was dark blue, bright pink and toxic yellow. I was walking, as I usually do. I was walking with my partner in a very familiar landscape. A familiar landscape, yet a very disorienting and chaotic one. I felt the need to organise and make sense of it. Simplify it. I organised the landscape in a rectangle. I was walking, as I usually do. An old couple are standing on the bridge over the canal, resting against the fence. Is it true that you start to look more like your partner the longer you are together? Something is grabbing their attention. Maybe a child reminding them of their own. A canal boat is passing by under us. Someone takes a picture from the boat. I’m caught red handed. Exposed. I walk along. I was walking, as I usually do. You can see the whole city from up here. I’m up here looking down on the city beneath me. The path between the trees are so familiar. How they stretch for the sky. How they twist and curl upwards. How they make shelter for me. How they hold the ground together with all its strength. I was walking, as I usually do. I was walking without my partner. We are in a rough patch. I’m moving and she is staying. I photograph the soft waves softly washing over the rocky shoreline. The first child in my family is just born. I’m not the youngest anymore. It seems so that my images are all about walking, looking and remembering. Repetition and thinking. Repetitive thinking. Obsessive thinking.