I document moments.

Introduction

Childhood is an island to which we can never return. It lives in memory like a tale told so often one is no longer sure that any of it remains true. While the inhabitants of childhood live with us, their burgeoning experience of life and our distant memory of childhood maintain an equivocal dance. Can we remember the melody? Do we recall the steps? As parents, it is this very uncertainty that enthrals us, demanding that we observe intently, interpret imaginatively… and in the process ensure the wellbeing of the young while never quite being certain what is going on.

If childhood is an island, then adolescence is a journey. A voyage away from childhood towards an indefinite destination. These are turbulent waters that must be navigated as best they can. The vessel of adolescence is a body in metamorphosis which, nonetheless, must somehow be piloted. Meanwhile, the winds of worldly events and the swell of others’ expectation pull this way and that; the distant shore still far below the horizon…

It is these two stages in life that the photographer Oliver Raschka captures in documentation of his two sons as they grow from infancy to teenage. His images of boyhood and early adolescence are deeply resonant yet tantalisingly uncertain. It is as if we recognise the scenes we see – the energy, the interaction, the quicksilver of emotion – and yet can only imagine how it might feel once more to be a child or embark on adolescence. And it is this that gives these images their emotional pull. They ask us to enter the dance of memory and childhood once more; to feel the rhythm of the past even as the steps that might lead us back elude us. For Oliver Raschka does not frame the images according to an adult memory of childhood, but simply observes and records what comes to pass. And, in that transparency of intent, catches in the moment a glinting flash of that distant isle and turbulent odyssey of youth.

Alasdair Foster

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Interview

When did you start photographing your sons?

As soon as they were born. I did not plan that this would become a long-term project or that it would result in books. It just developed that way.

When, for you, did it become a project in itself?

It wasn’t until some seven years later. I published photographs from this series in a high-quality magazine and wrote a text about it. Only then did I become aware of the kind of story I actually had here. Over the years, I was constantly developing both as a person and photographer. After numerous conversations with my family, with other photographers, with editors and publishers, there came a point when it was clear that the right way to present this work was in a book focusing on the first ten years. Childhood.

The second book – ‘Tween’ – continues the project into puberty.

Why did you call the first book ‘The World Ain’t Enough …’ ?

It’s about the exciting first years of childhood; two brothers living the moment. Joy, intimacy, love, anger, sadness, rivalry, wild euphoria… At this time, my sons were early birds. Their nights ended between six and seven o’clock in the morning. Once up, they were in full swing. Their vivid imaginations took in the world within seconds. It was their childlike thirst for conquest that inspired the title.

There is a remarkable spontaneity in these images.

The boys were lively children. I am just a silent observer, neutral. I have no expectations. I photograph the moments that I find interesting in my role as a photographer, not as a father. I always carry a camera, so I can respond spontaneously to something interesting. No staging, no posing. I just document real events in a natural manner. I don’t think about whether the photograph will become part of a book, an exhibition, or an article. Those considerations only arise when the photographs are printed out in front of me.

You don’t name the boys in the books. In a sense they remain anonymous…

The books are not about these brothers specifically. You cannot assume that you get to know the children depicted. My hope is that they provide subjective insights into the world of growing up. The emotional life of today’s generation of children as they negotiate these decisive phases in their lives, set against our tense social and political times. Lives characterised by their own personal, social, and political crises. A piece of contemporary history seen from the perspective of a photographer’s own experience and observation.

What shapes your perspective?

Of course, children are an essential part of life. But it wasn’t until my mother passed away and, a few years later, I was confronted with a serious illness and burnout that the project really started to take shape. Everything was in constant flux. I began to think deeply about the transience of life.

As humans, it is our exchanging of experiences that somehow connects us as we learn from each other. I try to capture my experiences in everyday life photographically; to make them universally readable, tangible. Ultimately, both books ask the same questions, though they are answered differently in childhood and in adolescence. How do they feel? What drives them? What issues concern them and how do they deal with those issues? What distinguishes the youth of my generation from the youth of today? Has the father–son relationship changed? What does it mean to be a brother? What shapes identity? These are all questions that come to the fore in the work… and each viewer will have their own interpretation based on their own experiences.

Has the project changed over the years?

No, not really. I’ve kept the same photographic style throughout. I continue to be a silent observer; to watch what is happening in front of me. I don’t stage anything and don’t give any instructions. The boys are used to being photographed and take no notice. For me, the key is to anticipate the interesting moments when something might happen that will be worth capturing photographically. In most situations I get one shot.

For the past eleven years I have been shooting almost exclusively with a fixed focal length. This has given me a spontaneous feel for the framing. As a result, the work appears homogeneous over a long arc of time. That said, the boys have changed. As teenagers, they have become calmer. This means I can now also shoot in medium format. That, in turn, helps me to slow down. Something I could never have done when the boys were children. They were just too animated and spontaneous.

You photograph in black-and-white rather than colour. Why is this?

Black-and-white focuses on structures and the relationships between the elements in the image. Nothing distracts. I compose and shoot directly in black-and-white. If I imagined the image in colour, I would compose it differently right from the start.

And black-and-white lends the images a more timeless quality. It is often only details in my pictures – a smartphone for example – that make it clear that these photographs must have been taken recently and not a generation ago. This can pique the viewer’s curiosity. Make them think. Are there connections between then and now? Has the father–son relationship changed? Maybe children today are not so different from their parents when they were young…

You are the boys’ father. Is it significant that you bring a masculine perspective?

It’s not important to me. I find discussions about whether there is a male or female perspective in photography are too theoretical. Perhaps I would take the same sort of photographs if I had two girls who were active and spontaneous. Anyway, what is ‘typical’ in an individual?

The causality is exactly the other way round. I document moments. What can then be read in the photographs – love, sadness, or even masculinity – is something I only discover afterwards. And it may be discovered differently by the viewer.

Your professional specialism is in the fields of behaviouralism and psychology, disciplines which tend to an objective and analytical approach. Does your specialist knowledge inform your work?

My interest in analysing and reflecting human behaviour helps me to capture the dynamics and specificity of social relationships. I have a sense of which reaction may trigger which counter-reaction. This knowledge helps me to anticipate moments so that I can react quickly if I sense that something interesting is about to occur.

Do you involve your family in the selection of images for publication?

In my role as a photographer, I try not to judge or interpret. But when it comes to selecting images for publication, I am a father again. It is a democratic process in which everyone in the family is involved and all the photographs that appear in the books were a joint selection. There were many photographs that were good in themselves that were not included because they were too private.

Talking about photographs with the children and discussing the context in which they appear and are perceived is an excellent form of media education for me. Children are generally very good at recognising what works and what doesn’t.

[Left and Right] © Oliver Raschka – from the series ‘Tween’

By adult measures, childhood is all too brief. Your boys are now entering that transitional phase of early adolescence. How has this affected them, the way they interact, and your relationship with them? In turn, how is this reflected in the photographs?

Well, for one thing, they have slowed down. Relaxing is important. Boredom is also a thing. In these tense times, that’s probably healthy. They now have different activities and hobbies, so other photographic motifs come naturally to the fore. Skateboards, smartphones, choice of clothes and personal style, the teenage bedroom, going out with friends and girlfriends… these things become more important and become more prominent in the images. Interestingly, cooking is also on trend.

As brothers, they no longer spend as much time together. Everyone is out and about in their circle of friends. For us as parents, the focus is no longer on education, but on support. They should take responsibility for themselves, but also know their limits.

This period coincided with the global pandemic. How did that affect the ongoing project?

The second book, ‘Tween’, is about puberty in the pandemic. For me, it is a status report on confusion, anxiety, illness, rebellion… but also self-determination, friendship, and love. It focuses on today’s generation of teenagers and asks questions about their needs, problems, and desires at a time when the whole world seems to be at a tipping point. I think that the gallerist Robert Morat sums up the series perfectly with his words, which I would like to quote in full: “‘Tween’ is an intimate study of domestic life. It manages convincingly to capture the energy and turbulence of adolescent life and the frustration that confinement and pandemic restrictions pose on teenagers and their urge is to run, play, explore. The tension is palpable in every image.”

[Left and Right] © Oliver Raschka – from the series ‘Tween’

Is that tension an ongoing state?

As if puberty isn’t enough of a stress test for young people coming to terms with themselves and their environment. They must find their place in life while the whole world seems to be heading from one crisis to another… be it the covid pandemic, which clearly shows the limits of the outdated school system unable to adapt to the online learning environment and our social coexistence; the war in Ukraine, which directly affects our social and democratic values; the unsustainable economic system with the relentless striving for performance from the very earliest age; or the severe weather events that have been on the rise for years. Puberty and extreme external instability hit them all at once and with full force.

For young teens, this can increase their confusion and intensify their feelings of isolation and rebellion. So much so that they become overwhelmed in ways that lead to chronic indifference or ramped up aggression. Moments of joy, exuberance, and friendship – which are so influential in identity formation and self-acceptance – become ever-more infrequent, taking on an escalating importance as a result when they do occur.

Dealing with puberty in the context of this long-term project, and in my role as a father, has made clear to me that early adolescents today are faced with many issues that they are simply not ready to handle – and nor should they have to. These are problems caused by adults, who are themselves proving unable to solve them quickly and wisely. In my view, there is too little public attention paid to the problems and fears for the future faced by young people and they are in danger of slipping through the cracks in our contemporary society.

[Left and Right] © Oliver Raschka – from the series ‘Tween’

Is this an open-ended long-term project, or do you foresee a natural point at which it will conclude?

I don’t have a plan. Long-term documentaries such as ‘The Brown Sisters’ by Nicholas Nixon, who photographed his wife and her three sisters for forty-five years, are certainly impressive contemporary documents. I’m happy to continue photographing the boys for as long as they allow. The same goes for when they photograph me. At the moment, there are fewer opportunities to take photographs because the boys are out with their friends a lot or the patterns of activity are repetitive. Perhaps, in the future, the project will move away from a documentary approach to explore portraiture. Let’s see. If the boys say I’m no longer allowed to photograph them, then of course I will accept and respect that decision. For now, I’m grateful for every photograph I am able to take and don’t worry about what may happen later.

What have you learned about yourself in making these bodies of work?

The underlying themes of this work, and other projects I am now working on, express very personal views on experiences such as family, identity, love… but also pain, illness, and social disorders… My aim is to process these personal experiences for myself while also conveying those ideas to others in a more universal way.

I think that, today, I have a better understanding of what each other’s needs are as a father and child. This applies not only to my role as the father of my children, but also to situations with my father. Good and bad. Photographic observation and, of course, conversations with my children have given me many new insights.

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Photo: © Fotofabrik

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This interview is a Talking Pictures original.

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