Sint-Remigiuskerk te Klimmen voor de uitbreiding in 1906 c. 1906

This is a photograph of Sint-Remigiuskerk in Klimmen, taken sometime before its expansion in 1906. The tones feel a little faded, a little unsteady. But that's what I like about this sort of work, it has an immediate connection to the past through its materiality. There’s a real softness to the image, which I think is due to the limited tonal range of the sepia. I love the way the church almost disappears into the cloudy sky, it gives it an unreal feeling, as if it's dissolving. And then these darker areas, like the trees and bushes at the bottom of the frame, which look almost black in contrast. In a way, the church feels like an abstract form, a geometric plane. The whole photograph feels like a conversation between form and light, flatness and depth, presence and absence. Like so many things in art, it's a question of balance. In some ways, its contemplative and quiet, like a Morandi, yet the historical aspect of the photograph is in direct contrast to this, suggesting that art can be more than one thing at any given time.