I love you Jonas Peterson
Finally the whole world knows
Note: I ran a podcast for my Finnish audience for 6 years. I mentioned Jonas Peterson in probably half the episodes. This is why.
Dear Jonas,
I fell in love with you and your work in 2010 while I was procrastinating at my 9-to-5 job. I had just set up a Facebook page for my photography and thought I was thinking outside the box. Then I discovered you, with 30K fans (just a guess!), and realized my tiny place in the sphere.
I had never seen anything like your work. I was mesmerized by your vision, the way you used light and color, and how everything fit perfectly into its place inside the frame. After I found you, I discovered Dan O’Day, Samm Blake, Christine Pobke, and many other Australian photographers. The Rockstars.
But you, Jonas, were different.
You had done something I hadn’t even dared to dream of: you left your 9-to-5 to pursue your dream. That’s when I realized I wanted to do the same. (And I did, two years later.)
I started to follow your every digital move. I wanted to read everything you wrote, and every time you said you needed to write more—after all, you’re a writer—I thought, "yes, yes, yes, now he’s going to write more, it’s finally going to happen!"
But you never wrote more.
What happened, though, was that I started writing more and found my way back to my first love, the words. I guess it was you who showed me how powerful a photographer with words can be.
But Jonas,
To me, your best work was never the one you did at weddings. It was truly amazing, don’t get me wrong, magical even, but I see more of you in everything else you do.
Remember that print shop back in the day? The one where you sold images taken in New York and Maasai Mara? Full marks. Then and there, I wanted you to stop shooting weddings and just travel the world with your vision in one hand and your camera in the other, selling those breathtaking images to everyone.
Or how about the bio text on your first website where you wrote about the birth of your first son? It sure made my left ovary itch.
Jonas, your storytelling abilities sprinkle through in everything you do. Your best work, dear master, has been the work where you are unapologetically you, sharing the memories and things that changed you. You believing in your own voice made me believe in mine.
Now, I’m not sure if this next thing will come out right, and I apologize if it doesn’t, but here we go:
Your artistry shows us ourselves as tiny dots among other tiny dots, in relation to each other. I always look for silence in art, you know, in order to hear my own thoughts, my own voice. The silence, your silence, leaves room for humanity, the shades that actually color-grade our world.
Like the words you wrote on Facebook about Donald Trump when he caught COVID in 2020:
It's easy to gloat, easy to say he deserves it. I know I want to. It's where we've ended up, with ravines of divide between us. This very platform is a huge reason for it.
Donald Trump is 74 years old, the same age my father was when he died from a serious condition. Both have five children, Donald's youngest is 14 years old.
Empathy is everything right now, it is what's missing most in society.
Regardless if you hate the man or not, try to remember that.
I shared your words on my Facebook, and it felt big; for a moment I felt sympathy for this man. Maybe you should write another piece now since all the good vibes are long gone?
What I want to say is this: Your artistry leaves room for the viewer, and that doesn’t happen very often anymore. Our minds are filled with content, not art, and it sweeps in front of our eyes so quickly, we cannot stop. But your art is silent, slow, and it requires our time.
Dear Jonas, it’s you, it’s always been you. It feels good to finally let the world know why I’ve raved about you and your work for almost 15 years.
I see everything so clearly now, that our paths have parted. See, when you started experimenting with AI, I lost my interest. I still love you, I do, but it’s different. It’s like, the love is there and all, but I don’t need you anymore.
Isn’t it funny; we need these role models, idols, who pave the way. They shatter the glass ceiling. Make the impossible happen. And when we are strong enough or wise enough or brave enough to stand on our own feet, we lose the utmost interest, and I guess that’s how it’s supposed to be.
Jonas, thank you for the rhythm, the silence, the way.
Yours, always,
Nani
my hat off, this is excellent!