SPACE TO FEEL GALLERY
A SPACE TO FEEL
Step into a space to feel. A collection of analog photographs, each capturing quiet moments of connection, inviting you to pause, breathe, and reflect on fleeting scenes.
A note from Malin:
”These photos were all captured while working on my latest album Space to Feel. I've been learning and gradually figuring my way through analog photography, really enjoying the process without any specific purpose in mind. I hadn't intended to show these photos to anyone. But once I had the second roll developed (not the first one - it was pretty bad, to be honest), I felt that the pictures somehow connected to what I aim to express through my music as well. Perhaps they reflect a landscape that takes you out of your current state of mind.
Below, you’ll find journeys through seasons and landscapes: the beautiful nature of my home country, Sweden; the coast of England; the stunning views of Wales; favourite spots in my home city, London; and summery scenes from Portugal, Italy, and Spain. Each photo has a name, and you’ll find a poem or story below the main image.
A simple gift from me to you. Take a moment to scroll through and let your mind wander into nature while listening to the full new album. With Love, Malin.”
Listen to Space to Feel
Summer softness. Tibro, Tidan River, Sweden. 2020. Olympus 35RC.
I took these photos during a walk with my brother in the summer of 2020. We walked along the Tidan River and crossed the old railway bridge, spotting some water lily leaves from above. The railway is completely overgrown now, as it hasn't been used in a long time. I think it’s even been removed, and they’re planning to turn it into a cycle path this year.
I remember sitting by the river after my first few months in London – long ago. The city had been a shock to my sensitive system. Travelling back home and sitting by the river, simply breathing and listening to the birds and water, was such a healing experience. I guess I’ve acclimated after many years in the city. But whenever I feel overwhelmed, my thoughts go back to this place. I hope you also have a place like this.
Purple ocean. Algarve, Portugal 2021.
Agfa X126 on expired film.
Water poem (2021)
The sound of water
always, there is this sound -
flowing, falling, melting
filling, freezing, found.
Let it run,
and let it overflow
but don’t waste no more.
The underwater sound,
all amplified but covered
All numb, I swim.
I swim with my ears full of sound,
drowning in my surroundings.
I can not hear me here;
I am drowning.
Pull me up, pull me in,
to the sound of waves.
I gaze -
mind quiet,
body grounded,
and spirit flowing
like a river does,
like love,
like the water.
Leaves underneath. Victoria Park, London 2021. Olympus 35RC.
This photo is from one of the ponds in the eastern part of Victoria Park, where I often go for walks. If you stroll around there yourself, I recommend the tiny hidden rose garden by the fig tree, just beside this pond. And if you happen to spot me, you’ll most likely see a lanky figure in multiple layers, massive headphones, and occasionally a camera around my neck, walking aimlessly through the park.
The two smaller pictures at the bottom are from the same film, but they were taken during a walk in Wales, not quite in Victoria Park.
Once a tree. Exmore park, England 2020.
Agfa X126 on expired film.
When my beloved grandmother passed away in 2020 and her apartment was being emptied, an old, simple camera - an Agfa X126 - was about to be thrown away. I saved it at the last minute before it went out with the trash, and I am forever grateful that I did. I didn’t really know what to do with myself when she passed. I was stuck in lockdown at my house in London while my family was with her at the hospital back in Sweden. Later I was able to go to the funeral and to see her apartment one last time. The kitchen where we always sat, having coffee and talking about this and that. We had a deep connection, and somehow, I still feel her presence with me.
My grandmother’s joy in life was her family - she had a big one, with seven children, many grandchildren, and even many great-grandchildren. She made sure to capture every birthday, and you would often see her with a camera, asking us to pose by the cake or in the garden. My grandma had so much love for everyone; it’s hard to describe.
With this camera, I found myself looking for scenes she would have enjoyed, and it somehow felt meaningful. That summer, as waves of grief came and went, taking photos with her camera became a way to connect with her memory during those unexplainable moments of loss.
The Hike. Wales, 2023.
Olympus 35RC.
Wooden floor poem (2021)
Frosty windows,
I rise before the sun,
all so still,
only silence in my home.
Wooden floor at my feet,
I greet the day to come.
If not for you,
I’d be here,
living a simple life.
Maybe it is all I wished for,
maybe it is nothing as I thought.
Through frosty windows,
I see nothing
but fields and empty roads.
The Old Bridge. Kenwood House, Hampstead Heath, London 2024. Olympus 35RC. Film: B&W Fomapan.
I am still very much in the process of learning to shoot with an analog camera. The main one I use is an Olympus 35RC that my partner, Mo, gave me a few years ago. I love it, and I love that he gave it to me. Mo is an excellent photographer, and I remember him explaining all the technical aspects of light, exposure, framing, etc., in the way only an engineer can.
I, on the other hand - being very much an artist and not very technical (or logical) - always have to learn by doing. That’s still where I am today. Every photo feels like a bit of a long shot, and I never know how it will turn out. But that, of course, is the whole point of shooting on analog.
These are from my most recent film, taken on a day in June at one of my favorite spots in London: Hampstead Heath and Kenwood Park.
Pink woods. Tibro, Sweden, 2023.
Agfa X126 on expired film.
Finding film for the old Agfa camera from 1972 is a challenge. It uses a plastic cassette that you insert, which makes it easier to use and avoids any hassle with loading film. I believe it was designed as a basic camera for family photos.
When I first got the camera, I managed to buy a few rolls of this film - always expired - so the photos tend to have a tint of some colour. These turned out all pink, and I loved it.
The woods are in Sweden, just outside the village where my parents live. I often stroll there by myself when I’m home visiting. The ocean pictures above are from Tuscany, Italy.
Cabin in snow. Tibro, Sweden, 2022.
Olympus 35RC
During Christmas, I often head to Sweden to spend time with my family. They live in the southern part, so snow isn’t always guaranteed, but in 2022, it was. I went for walks in the frosty woods, braving the cold and freezing my fingers to capture some of those familiar, beautiful views.
Wave of stones. Visingsö. Sweden, 2022.
Olympus 35RC
This photo is from one of my favorite places in Sweden - Visingsö, an island in the middle of Lake Vättern. The only way to reach it is by boat. I have fond memories of renting bikes and cycling around the island with friends when I was younger, visiting its quiet beaches and soaking in the peacefulness, away from the tourists. The poem below was written on one of those beaches.
Med blicken mot Omberg (2022)
På trädplankan vid udden,
där blev jag kvar.
Med blicken mot Omberg,
i tanken dit den far.
Blåa himmel, du ljuva sommardag.
Torkat gräs på vår jord,
jag undrar hur länge får vi ha dig kvar?
Lyckans mig som får leva.
På trädplankan vid udden,
där blev jag kvar.
In the valley. Hermigua, La Gomera, Spain 2023.
Olympus 35RC
Self-love poem (2023)
Self-love is
the place where it all starts.
Self-love is me at my best and my worst.
Can I love myself when no one else is?
Self-love is a practice,
like yoga every day.
In all shapes,
I will practice to love myself.
In the park. Victoria Park, London, 2024.
Olympus 35RC.
Below is one of my favorite poems: Dalen (The Valley) by Solveig von Schoultz. It doesn’t translate very well, so here’s a Swedish poem for you. It’s about chasing happiness in places other than where you are at the moment. Happiness is here and now - I love this reminder. Thank you for visiting, and enjoy the end of your walk through this gallery!
Dalen by Solveig von Schoultz
Ingen tog dig i handen och sa:
passa på.
Detta är nu.
Dalen du ser med slingrande vatten
med gömmande skogar och mild luft
med ängar och gröna källor
denna dal bär namnet Kärlek.
Ingen sa:
gå långsamt.
Akta dig för att färdas alltför fort
att tro på en annan dal
en större som du hört om
det finns ingen annan
inte för dig
dröj kvar
prägla vart löv i minnet.
Ingen sa:
detta är nu.
Detta är mycket.
Detta är tilräckligt.
Alldeles ensam sprang jag genom dalen
först när jag såg mig om förstod jag:
den såg ut så.
Det var den.