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Today there is a camera in every pocket. It used to be different. A camera was an expensive instrument and not easy to use successfully.
I received my first camera from my father. He had bought one of the latest SLR cameras for his architectural photography. A Nikon F. So I received his old camera. I received the Nikon F a few years later. It was my faithful companion for a long time until it too had to make way for an F3, F5 and a few others.
The number of photos shown is reduced.
The first cameras
My father was an architect and needed a few cameras to photograph his buildings. But what do you do with the discarded ones? Ideally, I got the first ones when I was about 15 years old. I even found some of the early photos in the archive. But they aren't spectacular.
Soon after, my father showed me the basic options for developing film and enlarging the black and white images.
That was the beginning of something more than just a passion.
Our names are Schäru, Türu and I, Pesche.
It was the big trip 1970 from Berne to Ascona. By moped, of course.
What is a camera for?
I soon realized how to use a camera. Aperture, exposure time and ISO values (still DIN at the time) and how it all worked together quickly became clear to me. I also soon realized what one can do with the camera.
Taking photos outside was nice, but experimenting with the camera was much more exciting. The first systematic conceptual work began. It was the start of microphotography.
The photos show crystallizations of developer fluid in polarized light. This are structures just a few millimeters in size.
For the photos I used normal slide film with a SLR camera, my dad’s Nikon F. Only the lenses were special. They came from old 8 mm film cameras, which I used in retro position. This made it technically possible to produce a better image. Good photos would not have been possible with normal 35mm lenses.
My first photo book was also made with these pictures. It contains enlargements on Cibachrom that I made myself in the darkroom.
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Of course I also photographed larger series in nature: Misty landscapes, shortly before or after sunrise. Today I see this work from a completely different perspective: The pictures were taken shortly before my coming out. They reflect my inner feeling at the time. This inner state changed shortly afterwards. My pictures became radically different!
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Bern and Biel were also my photo Eldorado. Thousands of pictures were taken over many years.
The first trips to Asia
Finished my studies! Away from home! Into freedom!
How do you do that? Traveling is the order of the day!
But not just around the corner!
Shortly after I finished my studies, I was able to afford my first big trip to Asia. Alone to Sri Lanka, Thailand, the Philippines and Indonesia. Half a year.
My luggage consisted mainly of cameras, lenses, black and white and slide films. There was barely enough room for the rest in my backpack.
This is why this subchapter is a bit longer.
(It contains around 200 photos.)
And here he is, the backpacker. Back in 1977. But only with light hand luggage, the camera.
Even today, after more than 40 years, I still benefit from all the experiences; a great enrichment of my life.
Durian! A wonderful fruit, wonderful once you've opened it. Can't be compared to anything. But not everyone's dream candidate... I loved it!
— Thailand
The ideal travel destination for backpackers. Chiang Mai was a small town at the time, more of a village. Hardly known, but there was a lot to discover. The market was fantastic, lots of unknowns, everything full of surprises.
Further north, beyond the Kok River, things got even more interesting.
Tourism was just beginning back then. Young Chiang Mai men were already offering hikes in the north. I was there with two other backpackers.
Today you can still do a similar tour. It is now called «Sustainable Chiang Mai Coffee Tour with a Hill Tribe cultural Experience». You no longer need to walk. It is «easier»... However, you will hardly see any fields of opium poppies.
After a bumpy ride on a Bemo, a track, from Chiang Mai to the Kok River and a long hike afterwards, we reached the villages of the hill tribes where we could spend the night. Today it would be easier. The Mae Fah Luang - Chiang Rai International Airport is nearby.
In the first Karen village, the bed consisted of a standard bamboo cot, about 30 cm above the ground.
But this was built for Karen. They were a lot smaller than us.
That's why the chief of the village immediately took out his big knife and artfully extended the cot.
Imagine such a service from us…
Hill Tribes: Indigene im Karen-Dorf
From there it wasn't far to the Golden Triangle. You had to go there! According to what we were told, we also got to Burma on foot, which was of course illegal. Trying out the local "herbs" was part of the concept of the trip.
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The journey continued to Chiang Rai by boat on the Kok River, close to the Burmese border.
There were military attacks from both sides. According to our guides, our journey was not dangerous, because we were accompanied by Thai soldiers. Shots were fired into the bushes a few times. A resounding demonstration.
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— Philippines
I wanted to travel again to the Philippines the following year. North Luzon with the rice terraces was the first destination.
First image: Approximative Map of Sagada and surroundings
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January 1980, stopover on the way back to Manila. Talavera, north of Manila, far away from any tourism. There I stayed in a bamboo house together with the local population. I enjoyed great hospitality!
The wonderfully prepared food, straight from the local market. Cheese, wrapped in banana leaves! We never had anything like that back then (and now).
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Public transport in downtown Manila. That was in 1980. Today, unfortunately, these wonderful means of transport are hardly to be seen anymore.
They were originally old Willys jeeps that the Americans left behind after their withdrawal from the Philippines. They were quickly converted into minibuses by the Filipinos and are considered a typical Filipino means of transport.
Jeepneys have been lovingly converted, modified, beautified and maintained. It would be so nice to have them here too. However, they would fail our traffic controls by a landslide.
The Sexy Riders photos got me advertised again during the Polaroid hype for some "instant pictures".
More on this in the chapter 'The way to the studio: Pola Works'.
I took the color pictures in Manila in 1980. The black and white pictures were taken in Cebu in 2002.
The speed and driving style of the Filipinos leaves even our hottest drivers in the shade!
In 1980, Puerto Galera was one of the deserted beaches on the island of Mindoro. However, local tourism already existed.
My companion lived in Manila and traded T-shirts. We met in the guesthouse on a small beach.
With Gina, I was never quite sure whether she was a man or a woman... He/she was the companion of the other backpacker in the same guesthouse.
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Camiguin is a small island off Mindanao. At that time, far away from any tourism. Here I had my first really impressive contact with a coconut. It fell from a height of about 20 meters, two meters next to me. I was lucky again in my life!
My next destination was Davao in the south of Mindanao. The boat trip to Mindanao and the trip to Cagayan de Oro were no problem.
The hitchhiker's guide recommended the route along the coast, as there were good roads there. But that would be about 1000 km. But how about going right through Mindanao? The hitchhiker's guidebook said: Forget the route!
But I tried it anyway. After asking around a bit, I got some good information:
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Perfect, no problem at all, at least at first. Soon we were driving over bumpy roads. Shortly afterwards it was a real stream bed. So we got out and pushed! We reached the camp just before dusk. Here I was warmly greeted by a lady.
She was white, middle-aged, busty, with a perfectly broad US-English accent and offered me a tour of her station. I immediately agreed, but had to promise not to take any photos.
What I saw was extremely interesting! There were power generators, air conditioning systems, Digital Equipment Computer PDP-11 and terminals VT52…! I was able to talk shop with her very well, we talked about hardware and software.
I was very familiar with computers and terminals. The computers were the size of wall cabinets. I worked at home in Solothurn at Autophon, where I was employed, with the same devices. Remember: that was in 1980. Laptops had not yet been invented. And the Internet certainly wasn't!
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Well, guess what you do with such high-tech devices «in the middle of nowhere»?
In this station, dictionaries of the language of local indigenous people were created.
But what can you use such dictionaries for?
They were used to translate the Bible!
I was in the middle of the last white spot on the Christian world map.
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It continues in a Christian way... Davao was soon reached the following day. It was December 25, 1980. Sun, tropical heat, blue sky, just as you would imagine Christmas to be!
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— Indonesia
The Toraja are a people on the highlands Tana Toraja on the island of Sulawesi. Organized tourism was already emerging in 1980. There were not many visitors yet. And if there were, the nightmare was over after an hour. I was the only hitchhiker.
The Toraja build wonderful houses based on architectural traditions from centuries ago. Their funeral ceremonies are just as famous.
The people are extraordinarily friendly. I was also invited to a funeral ceremony with buffalo fights. It would have been almost an insult not to go.
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From Medan we head up to the plateau to Berastagi. A longer stop here is advisable, because the market is far more than worth seeing.
The smell of fish at the market is unmistakable. Durians have a much more intense smell. Europeans usually run away in panic. I love them as soon as they're open. But see you! They're prickly, almost impossible to hold in your hands. I wanted to take two with me the next day and put them in my room the night before. That wasn't a good idea, because at night it smelled so bad that it was impossible to sleep. The two durians were a gift...
I was also sitting in this bemo, as these extremely practical means of transport are called here. As you can imagine, under all kinds of vegetables, fruit (including durian), chickens, firewood and more.
Everything is sold. Also wonderfully designed lamps. We didn't invent recycling.
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My grandfather, born in 1889 in Frutigen, was a doctor. After his studies, the Swiss state examination and a little later the state examination in Amsterdam in Dutch, he and his wife were drawn out into the wide world. That was in January 1918. He wanted to go to Sumatra as a specialist doctor for tropical diseases to build a hospital there.
The journey there was not exactly easy, because the First World War was still raging. Her journey with her one-year-old son was unimaginably difficult, to say the least, because a direct route was impossible because the Suez Canal was closed due to the war.
Her journey first went to Spain. There she had to wait six weeks for the ship to America. Then we set off. But after a short journey the ship was stopped by the German military. There was talk of sinking it. Only my grandfather and the second Swiss on board, Gottlieb Duttweiler, were the only German-speaking people. After intensive negotiations the ship was able to return to Spain.
After a few weeks the crossing to New York was successful. Then across the USA and another ship to Sumatra.
In the province Asahan Regency (North Sumatra) my grandfather built the hospital in Negaga. The family grew, my mother was born there as the first child in 1920. Four more followed.
My mother told me a lot about her childhood, because the surroundings were "slightly" different to what we normally have here. For example, there was the snake in the chicken coop that blocked her brother's exit or the dog that was eaten by the tiger.
My interest was piqued!
If you're already in the "area", it would be worth taking a look! My mother drew me a map with some location details, this from her memory after more than 50 years. After all, there was no Google Maps back then. Even today, Negaga is still nowhere to be found. But I managed it! Hours-long bus ride past many palm oil plantations, asking around, showing my plan…
My mother told me a lot about the steam locomotive. In Indonesian it is called «Kereta Api», which, according to my mother, translates back as «fire horse». A more accurate term would be fire train. This was a direct indication that I was in more or less the right place.
I found the hospital and was warmly welcomed there. Some photos of my detour can be seen here.
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Trips to Java, Bali and other islands in Indonesia followed. The first was in 1980. Here are some pictures of that.
The route from Jakarta to Bandung led over the Puncak Pass. It was cold and foggy. Very unusual in the tropical climate.
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My tour guides in Yogyakarta were very accommodating and showed me many interesting places. Of course, they also wanted a photo with a handshake and an exchange of writing tools, just like heads of state always do. Afterwards I was the “proud” owner of a chewed ballpoint pen.
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We know pictures of Bali. That's why they are not shown here.
Instead, I saw me with my indispensable travel luggage with two cameras (one for black and white, the other for color slides), a few lenses and enough film material.
I saw the boats early in the morning on Blue Lagoon Beach. The beach still exists today, but these boats no longer exist, because now they are all motor-driven. On the other hand, the electrical installations with the tangle of wires have hardly changed.
But perhaps you should go to Tukang Gigi, the dentist, again. Only he is in B.TINGGI. This is the abbreviation for Bukittinggi, which local rickshaw drivers usually call out as BUKI – BUKI – BUKITT. And that would be in the middle of Java.
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First workshops
Many more trips followed. I only want to mention a few here, those that are directly related to my photographic work.
Portugal to the Algarve: photography course with Jost J. Marchesi. Unfortunately, I did not archive many photos, especially the Polaroid shots. Looking back, what I learned from Jost was like a photographic shot across the bow. The effects were lasting.
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Santorini was the ultimate photo Eldorado at the time. The subjects just tumbled into the camera. I had a lot of fun implementing the experiences I had previously had with Jost J. Marchesi.
The workshop with Sepp von Mentlen turned into a long-lasting friendship. The Bern photo team was formed together with other Bern photographers.
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I wanted to give up my job as a software developer and work as a freelance photographer. That was my idea. Christian Vogt was the pioneering art photographer in Switzerland at the time, author of many art books.
In a discussion that was very decisive for me, Christian told me that even he only made a living 20 percent from his freelance photography. The rest is advertising.
I stuck to my traditional "art", the emerging computer and software development. I filled my extended free time (one day off per week - thanks to the companies I was employed by) with my really free photography.
Workshop 1981 with Christian Vogt, Instant Photo Session: A task for pictures with a cloth
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A tenth of a second in my life
On September 26, 1981, the biggest change in my life took place. Patrick came into my life. We met in the Bern gay club Ursus. A tenth of a second during the first contact was enough. That made everything clear. It was that simple...!
The tenth of a second turned into 31 years. Unfortunately, there were to be at least 31 more years. Unfortunately, nothing came of it. After a short illness, Patrick's life ended on December 23, 2012.
Patrick was, is and will remain my elixir of life.
I still love him. With all my heart!
Looking through my archives confirmed this for me. There are many photos that bring back many memories. I show some here, others remain in the archive. And that's a good thing.
Patrick and I remain very closely connected in spirit.
