Johannes Labusch


Piano Man, 2015

Hi there, 2015

Subway dance, 2016

Halloween, 2015

Line of busses, 2016

Lonely, 2016

Hook, 2016

Hillary singing, 2016


Iím excited by the discovery that
the sum of your decisions ends up forming a pretty coherent narrative about you, whether you planned for that result or not.

In the case of photography, this means: Even though anybody else theoretically could have captured that specific tiny moment at that specific place and time, it ended up being you. In that sense, photography is the ultimate lucky accident, no matter the amount of editing you may apply after the fact. And so the collection of split seconds that accumulate on your hard disk becomes a story of who you are as an observer of life, and as a participant in it. Every picture you take is a self portrait.

We are genetically programmed to be seekers of patterns, of beauty, of stimulation and of meaning, and trying to make sense (or fun) of the world that surrounds us is a reflex. The lens only slightly heightens that impulse, it literally pulls the focus sharper during our attempt to understand whatís going on. The possibility that a picture might happen makes casual observation more promising. Iím looking at the world with more interest when I imagine there could be a visual memory, a keeper moment, waiting around the next corner. Thatís how I would like to take life in, every day. Strangely enough, fewer surprises seem to happen when youíre not ready for them.

I can handle the minimal effort to pack the camera and have the battery charged. Itís sort of a technical version of opening yourself up for discovery. The camera becomes a device that helps to get ready to take life in, an experience-enhancer, and about once a week, even an experience-enabler.