The Lifelong Presence of Anders Petersen

Sixty years after Anders Petersen took his first frame of forest workers and lumberjacks in the Swedish landscape of Värmland, the common thread is still noticeable. The thread which links a distinguished body of photographic work that makes him one of the world’s most respected photographers. “Presence. That’s the common thread. I am always present in the picture, and in this way, the people I photograph also become very present.”

WORDS: OSKAR HAMMARKRANTZ, PHOTOGRAPHY: ANDERS PETERSEN

Anders Petersen left his mark on the photographic scene in the 1960s when he travelled to Hamburg and took what are today considered iconic photos of the ravaged people at Café Lehmitz. One of them was also forever inscribed in popular cultural history when it later ended up as the cover of Tom Wait’s 1885 album, Rain Dogs. This helped to spread Petersen’s images far beyond the initiated photo community.

“It is perfectly okay that in many ways I have come to be associated with the pictures from Hamburg, even if it was just the beginning of my career. They are representative of me, with their theme of longing for fellowship.”

Anders Petersen had already become acquainted with Hamburg in the early ‘60s when he went there as an 18-year-old to write and paint. But he quickly felt that the two forms of expression did not suit him well because one is so easily isolated.

“I tried to paint, but it was so lonely, and I’m a social person. Then I tried to write and discovered that it was even more lonely. So, photography became a way for me to connect with people.”

“I tried to paint, but it was so lonely, and I’m a social person.”

Back in Stockholm, he started Christer Strömholm’s school of photography, which was the beginning of a long friendship and mentorship. Together, the two laid the foundation for a new Swedish realism and photography style, which in France and large parts of the world is known as “L'école suédoise.”

Today, the followers are many, and the photography schools’ degree exhibitions are often crowded with images of marginalised people living in exclusion. However, Peterson is clear about his motivation, saying, “Some photographers who say that they are inspired by Christer and me have completely misunderstood what we stand for. If you consciously look for people who are excluded to create strong images, you have got it all wrong. When Christer went to Paris to photograph transvestites, it was to inform about their difficulties. He was genuinely interested in their situation and could, in a way, identify with them. I photograph those I identify with, regardless of class affiliation. The so-called Petersen school is foreign to me; you should photograph what you feel caught up in, not seek out marginalised groups to take spectacular pictures. Others say that I have a special style and my own expression, but I probably do not see it myself.”

Despite the fact that Anders Petersen, over the years, has photographed everything from animals and landscapes to buildings and travel stories, it is his close-up black and white portraits with a snapshot feeling that seems to have stuck in people’s minds.

“I like people a lot. And I think you have to somehow like your objects. Of course, you do not have to like everything with them, but you still have to feel for them in some way. You have to have a positive feeling for them,” he states.

In addition to the pictures from Café Lehmitz, Petersen has received attention for his photos taken in prisons, hospitals, and mental hospitals – the so-called Institutions trilogy, as well as his photo diaries from places like Rome and London’s Soho district. All in a documentary style that gets intimate with people and captures moments in their everyday life. But he rejects the label of documentary photographer.

“It would be presumptuous of me to call what I am doing documentaries. Sure, there are roots in documentary photography, but I’m always involved, and the pictures are more diary-like. They are more private than documentaries. I would rather call what I’m doing outreach photography. Or possibly street photography.”

“It would be presumptuous of me to call what I am doing documentaries.”

Petersen has said many times that he, “photographs with the heart and the stomach, not with the head,” but over the years, he has noticed that it is becoming increasingly difficult to maintain that attitude. “You become more and more self-aware the older you get. It becomes more difficult to disconnect the brain. At the same time, I can feel that I was far too spontaneous when I was younger. I was completely lost in the situation, and when I came home to the darkroom and developed, I saw that it was just shit. For it to be really good, I have to have one foot outside and not let myself get completely lost in the situation. I call it a close distance.”

The darkroom Petersen talks about is located in a 16th century basement in the Old Town of Stockholm… it has been a fixed point in his life for the past 37 years. “I still work with film with a relatively simple camera, a Contax T3. I probably do not take as many pictures as someone who photographs digitally because it is so expensive. This means that I have to think through the picture before I take it. But really, I’m not that interested in composition. The most important thing is that what and who I like fits in the frame.”

“For it to be really good, I have to have one foot outside and not let myself get completely lost in the situation. I call it a close distance.”

In recent years, Petersen has depicted, in an almost photographic diary form, various cities around the world, to which he has been invited. They include Rome, Valparaiso, London’s Soho, and Gap, Sète, and Paris, Utrecht, and the Japanese prefecture of Okinawa. The mission has been to portray the cities from an outsider’s perspective, with new, healthy eyes.

“I think you can see the Swedish and Scandinavian heritage in my pictures, wherever in the world they are taken. The melancholy is always present, and I’m obviously affected by our light. The long winters mean that we up here in the Nordics almost worship the light and the heat, the short times we can enjoy it.”

In 1962, exactly 60 years ago, Petersen took his first frame, and since then, he has never really put the camera on the shelf for any amount of time. It is always with him on trips, walks, and in everyday life. And the common thread back to the very first frames is still there.

“I do not think I have developed that much. When I took my first photographs, I already found something that follows me. Someone else must decide if it is a strength or weakness not to have developed so much under 60 years.”