For thousands of kilometres, I knew it was there, but I ignored its existence, refusing to recognize its significance. I devoured asphalt, I lived on roadside meals, still driving in my head when I hit the hotel pillow. Being in a car never made me realize that I was hiding from the presence outside, solitude as company, battling the loneliness, the distance between me and the world. I was awed by the beauty I found in these ordinary Spanish landscapes, while my own every day was as far away from this beauty as it could get.
“I devoured asphalt, I lived on roadside meals, still driving in my head when I hit the hotel pillow.”
I’ve always felt better when alone, away from the crowds living their lives around me. Guilt consumed me from time to time because I don’t have to fight, beg or steal to get by, yet I couldn’t find joy and pride in my achievements. The more time I spent in dense, populated areas, the more I allowed my destructive thoughts to take control and the more I became aware of how I appreciate my solitary adventures.
“I’ve always felt better when alone, away from the crowds living their lives around me.”
On my last two trips, something changed, snapped if you will. I couldn’t enjoy the ride, I wasn’t in it, it was all a video playing right in front of me, but I wasn’t there, I was merely a spectator.
The photographs I’ve taken on these two journeys feel like a journey into my mind rather than a journey into the world. And while the objects and spaces in my photos are tangible, the thoughts in my mind aren’t, not there to grab or hold on to. They live in my head, a place where you can’t get to from where you are, but can visit through the emptiness in my photographs.
About the photographer
Mark Rammers is a Dutch photographer based in Amsterdam, but at home on the road. He finds beauty in ordinary spaces and everyday situations while examining the natural and man-made landscapes surrounding us in an era of continuous change.
