At the heart of the aesthetic experience lies what I term remembered light.

Introduction

Current research into the nature of visual perception indicates that only about twenty per cent of what we perceive visually is passing through the eye. The rest is a blend of memory, logic, and expectation seamlessly integrated in the brain in what is effectively an act of imagining. It is an example of the economies of evolution, ensuring an efficient use of brain power to provide sufficient contextualised visual accuracy to survive in the stream of real-time experience. A photograph, on the other hand, is quite different. It freezes a moment and holds it open to inspection, but it denies direct access to before and after. In this case, we use our memory, logic, and expectation to extend the narrative back and forth across time. To imagine a before and an after; a cause and an effect. And, since each of us has a different experience of life, different memories and acquired ways of thinking, the interpretations we make will be modulated accordingly.

The work of the Australian photographer Bronisław Kózka invokes these tonal modulations. His oeuvre is extensive and always evolving. In this interview we will explore two periods, each with their distinctive aesthetic and mode of making. In the earlier work, he created precisely staged tableaux that draw the viewer in through familiar signifiers of period and social context. Yet each is haunted by an unsettled tension that lends the image an ambiguous affective undertow. What that might be, and how it is perceived, remains within the individual’s own interpretation as picture and personal memory engage in imaginative synthesis.

In the later work discussed here, the emphasis moves from the narrative to the phenomenological. His images of the natural landscape seek to extend the moment and untether the photograph from its notional objectivity. While his earlier work drew on commonly recognised period décor and the narrative tropes of cinema, these evocations of landscape are abstracted in a speculative dialogue between subjective experience and cross-cultural conceptualisation. These are not images through which one looks to discern an unfolding story. They are meditative spaces – environments within themselves – where one may pause and ponder.

In English, we use the word ‘see’ to mean more than just the sense of sight. It can suggest understanding (I see what you mean), empathy (I see where you are coming from), limitation (I see no way out of this). It is a word that, in its daily use, recognises that perception is much more than a projection of the outer world on an inner mental screen. It is an ongoing process of personal consilience.

Alasdair Foster

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© Bronisław Kózka ‘Caravan’ from the series ‘Home’ 2007

Interview

What first drew you to the medium of photography?

It began as an exploration of the narrative possibilities within still images. What particularly fascinated me was photography’s unique ability to suspend time while simultaneously suggesting both past and future. Over the years, this has evolved into a more complex investigation of how digital technologies can expand our understanding of photographic truth.

In your earlier work you created cinematic narrative tableaux, which often explored the undertow in relationships. How did that work begin?

I am fascinated by the way in which personal memory and cultural zeitgeist intersect in domestic space and, in this work, I wanted to delve into the fragility and complexity of human relationships. In juxtaposing nostalgic environments with an undercurrent of unease, I sought to capture a sense of theatrical dissonance reflecting more broadly on the ways we engage with the spaces we inhabit, shaped by history, culture, and personal experience. The aim was not simply replication but to evoke a sense of presence within which the viewer might feel the layers of history, memory, and artifice. Indeed, what I aimed for was a feeling of heightened reality – hyperreality even – that blurs the line between what is remembered and what is imagined, echoing the ways in which memory reconstructs past events. In this way, I hope that these works are not just visual artefacts but sites of dialogue between the past and present, the real and the imagined.

© Bronisław Kózka ‘Pre-Dinner Drinks’ from the series ‘The Best Years of Our Lives’ 2007

What techniques did you employ to achieve this hybrid sensibility?

It involves a carefully composed mise-en-scène that brings together atmospheric lighting, décor, costuming, and gesture to create tableaux that I hope will resonate with the viewer’s own recollections. For example, in ‘Pre-Dinner Drinks’ I explore the discomfort inherent in certain social rituals. The image taps into memories of mid-century domestic life – an era often romanticised but also one steeped in rigidly held social norms. It captures an awkward, in-between moment of mis-aligned expectations, when everyone is physically present but emotionally distant. The narrative is held within an interplay of subdued gesture while the composition, décor and lighting echo the emotional tone of the characters. The hyperreal feel of the image – which elevates its emotional charge – was achieved through careful compositing, colour grading, and textural manipulation in post-production.

© Bronisław Kózka ‘EH Holden’ 2008

There is often an interplay between nostalgia and melancholy in these works. It’s particularly poignant in the photograph of two naked adolescents in the back of a Holden station wagon…

That image captures a scene that is both familiar and unsettling: a young couple engaging in a moment of intimacy within the confines of a classic EH Holden, a cultural icon of Australian suburbia. The car serves as a kind of nostalgic touchstone, evoking an era of burgeoning pop culture, youthful exploration, and freedom. However, the idyllic associations are complicated by the emotional undercurrents of the scene. The young man’s casual pose, complete with a stubbie of beer, contrasts sharply with the vulnerability of the girl, who cradles herself in a gesture that feels both tender and self-protective. The image taps into that universal experience of first steps into adulthood, moments charged with expectation that often leave us feeling deflated, vulnerable, and no less uncertain about the world.

At the heart of the aesthetic experience lies what I term remembered light: a deliberate manipulation of lighting to evoke the heightened visual intensity often associated with memory. By blending naturalistic light with strategic enhancements – such as directional soft lighting or exaggerated shadows – I want to create atmospheres that feel both familiar and otherworldly. These lightscapes are not just tools of illumination but narrative and affective devices to enhance the emotional implications of the image.

© Bronisław Kózka ‘Sunshine House’ from the series ‘Sunshine House’ 2008

As with many of your early series, ‘Sunshine House’, is set in Australian suburbia…

Suburbia, for me, is not just a geographical location – it’s a psychological space. It represents a tension between public appearances and private realities, between the expectation of tranquillity and undercurrents of discord. In this image [above], that tension is palpable: the characters are engaged in a confrontation that is both deeply personal and universally recognisable.

The image was not meticulously pre-planned but developed as we worked through the scene. My process is intuitive in a way that allows the emotional undertones of the moment to come to the surface naturally, shaping the narrative in ways I didn’t necessarily anticipate. I’ve found that some of my most impactful work comes from trusting this process – letting the scene, the characters, and the setting guide the story rather than imposing a rigid pre-defined structure.

[Left] © Bronisław Kózka ‘Scott’ from the series ‘Room 101’ 2007
[Right] © Bronisław Kózka ‘Sailors’ from the series ‘Room 101’ 2007

Set in a budget hotel room, ‘Room 101’ evokes the stylistic sensibility of film noire and, more specifically, George Orwell’s locus of psychological terror in his novel ‘1984’. What ideas were you exploring in this extended series?

Room 101 serves as a metaphysical space in which serial inhabitants confront their unique amalgamation of personal anxieties while simultaneously suggesting the more universal human condition. The hotel room is a transient and anonymous space that becomes a temporary theatre of human experience, a place where public and private intersect. The noir atmosphere embodies the quintessential cultural archetype of a shady, sordid, provisional space – a place of loneliness, betrayal, yearning, and the pull of indulgence, of temporary diversion.

So, are these morality tales of evil versus good?

This work is not about binary oppositions, but about the coexistence of our better and darker impulses, our moral compass and our transgressions. These are the complex interwoven dimensions of who we are and this work invites the viewer to confront both the light and the shadow within themselves.

The real terror in ‘Room 101’ lies in this invitation for self-reflection. Each image holds a mirror to the darker corners of our psyche: the secret desire to escape, cheat, be reckless; the recognition of our capacity for harm; the mystery of the unknown aspects of ourselves we may fear to acknowledge. These truths, while deeply personal, are also universal, making the series a profound commentary on the collective human experience.

[Left] © Bronisław Kózka ‘The Joy of Guilt’ from the series ‘Room 101’ 2007
[Right] © Bronisław Kózka ‘Jarrod’ from the series ‘Room 101’ 2007

How did those ideas and meanings develop?

The decision to focus on personal and collective fears within an imagined space wasn’t something I mapped out analytically – it was a concept that emerged naturally through reflection and conversation, guided by a sense of what felt right to explore. Intuition plays a role not just during the creation of the image, but also much earlier, in the discussions and decisions that shape the work in the first place. But this intuition doesn’t replace planning; rather, it guides it.

I have learned the importance of remaining open to the input of others. The discussions I have with stylists, actors, and other collaborators are often where ideas are refined and shaped. In this way, it’s not about rigidly controlling everything but about staying open to new possibilities and directions.

And, while intuition shapes the initial impetus and the moment of creation, it also plays a role in how I subsequently reflect upon the work. Often, it’s only after the image is finished that I begin to understand what drew me to the idea in the first place. Sometimes, viewers or collaborators point out connections or layers of meaning that I hadn’t consciously considered but that feel true. This delayed understanding reinforces my belief in the value of intuition – it’s a process that continues to unfold long after the work is complete.

[Left] © Bronisław Kózka ‘Białowieża, Poland’ from the series ‘The Imperfect Beauty of the Sublime’ 2019
[Right] © Bronisław Kózka ‘Mount Field, Tasmania’ from the series ‘The Imperfect Beauty of the Sublime’ 2018

Let’s jump forward now to newer and rather different work – at least at first blush. Tell me about ‘The Imperfect Beauty of the Sublime’.

This series investigates the intersection of the digital and Nature to explored how contemporary technology might capture that overwhelming sense of awe and trepidation in face of natural grandeur that the Romantics called ‘the sublime’. In the work I use devices such as an iPhone or iPad to create an immersive sense of the natural environment.

It is a process that involves simultaneous layering of exposures while the image is being made. The movement and blur arise from subtle movements in the natural landscape and those of the maker. As one moves – whether intentionally or not – the image evolves; each breath taken is reflected in the final image. In this way, one’s physiological response to the landscape is recorded as part of the image. Thus, the final image is ‘imperfect’, crucially so because it acknowledges that any attempt to capture the sublime will necessarily fall short… And it’s in this very failure that new forms of beauty emerge.

© Bronisław Kózka ‘East Coast, Tasmania’ from the series ‘The Imperfect Beauty of the Sublime’ 2022

How do you see the emerging future of photography itself?

As someone who has worked across commercial photography, artistic practice, and in academia, I see the medium at a crossroads where technology, culture, and creativity intersect in unprecedented ways. Today, the pace of image consumption continues to increase while the boundaries between photography and other visual media are becoming increasingly blurred. I see this as an opportunity to expand the medium’s possibilities but I also believe there is a growing need to take time to reflect. Photography is no longer just about capturing a singular moment – it can now create entirely new realities and reinterpret existing ones. It is a fundamental shift from documentation to dialogue. And its future lies in embracing these innovations while remaining true to photography’s core purpose: the act of seeing, interpreting, and communicating meaning.

© Bronisław Kózka from the series ‘Mountain Water (shanshui): Walking the Annapurna Track’ 2022
[Left] ‘A glimpse of what is to come, walking towards Chamje’; [Centre] ‘The mountains begin’; [Right] ‘Approaching Manang’

Finally, I would like to turn to ‘Mountain Water (Shanshui)’.

This series was created during a walking expedition along the Annapurna Track in Nepal – a journey that wasn’t just about documenting the landscape but about engaging with it on a philosophical and emotional level. After years of working on projects that were constructed in controlled environments I wanted to step away from the digital and virtual to engage directly with the sublime landscapes of the physical world. The Annapurna Track, with its dramatic peaks, shifting light, and spiritual resonance, provided the perfect setting to explore this connection. It wasn’t just a backdrop; it was an active participant in the creation of these works. Walking the track was an intensely physical experience, and that physicality became central to the images. I wanted to capture not just the visual beauty of the landscape but the sensations of being immersed in it: the cool air, the weight of the journey, and the quiet contemplation it inspired.

My approach was informed by the tradition of Chinese shanshui (山水) painting, which emphasises the interplay between mountains, water, and human presence. Shanshui is not about realistic representation but about evoking the essence of the landscape and its emotional resonance. This philosophy became the foundation for my photographic practice in this series, as I employed techniques like layering exposures to reflect the shifting perspectives experienced while walking, and careful colour grading to enhance the emotional impact of the scenes. The result was a fusion of traditional photographic practice with the conceptual depth of shanshui painting.

© Bronisław Kózka from the series ‘Mountain Water (shanshui): Walking the Annapurna Track’ 2022
[Left] ‘Untitled, approaching Tal Manang’; [Centre] ‘River and Hills’; [Right] ‘Morning light fills the valley’

Shanshui aims not simply to represent a landscape’s appearance, but its essence. At the same time, to Western eyes, the works could appear impressionistic. That is, less to do with a core essence than an experiential perception.

My intention lay somewhere between the two: evoking a deep emotional and philosophical connection to the landscape that blends the essence of the traditional with the immediacy of personal experience.

You have shown this work in China. Was it understood differently there from, say, Australia?

In China, the response was immediate and profound. Chinese photographers, artists, and academics seemed instantly to grasp the underpinnings of the work – the dialogue with shanshui painting, the layering of temporal and spatial perspectives, and the philosophical meditation on nature. In fact, those early discussions were transformative for me, influencing how the series subsequently evolved over time.

In Australia, the work is often received differently. While viewers here find the images beautiful and moving, I sense that the underlying dialogue with Chinese art history and philosophy is sometimes missed. However, I don’t see this as a limitation. The primary intention of the work is to connect me with nature and, hopefully, to inspire viewers to reflect on their own relationship with the natural world.

[Left] © Bronisław Kózka ‘Untitled’ from the series ‘Home’ 2009
[Right] © Bronisław Kózka ‘Transition’ from the series ‘Home’ 2008

In making these bodies of work, what have you learned about yourself that you did not previously know or understand?

Photography has been a teacher, though perhaps not in ways that were immediately obvious to me. I’ve come to realise that my process is deeply intuitive. I often don’t fully understand what I’m exploring, either about myself or the world, until much later – sometimes years after the work has been completed. Strangely, other people often see these connections before I do, which has been both humbling and enlightening.

What I do know is that I am, above all else, a maker. The act of creating, of engaging in the process, is what drives me. It’s through making that I begin to see and understand. It’s in this process that I feel most alive, most curious, and most attuned to the world. And that gives me immense satisfaction.

© Bronisław Kózka ‘Leaving’ from the series ‘The Best Years of Our Lives’ 2007

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This interview is a Talking Pictures original.

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