SILENCE OF SOLITUDE - URBAN VIEWS FROM THE CORONA PANDEMIC

Introduction text by: John Ajvide Lindqvist

Perhaps the most frightening aspect of the pandemic was that all strangers suddenly became our enemies. Each and every unknown face, a potential murderer to be avoided. In my opinion, kindness is the basic condition for most people. As far as is possible, we like to help and support our fellow travellers here on Earth, in order to make life a little easier. All that changed overnight. Don’t come any closer! Don’t touch me, don’t speak! We were forced to act contrary to our nature.

This feeling is well expressed in the Silence of Solitude. That invisible, death-bringing cloud that emanated from our former fellow humans. One of the very basic conditions for life, the air we breathe, was now what might well put us in our graves. Invisible particles whirled around,threatening us in all public places; every breath was a gamble. We were besieged by a poisonous fog that we couldn’t even see. What could we do? Cordon off, lock down, isolate.

Nietzsche has written:” If human beings were deprived of the sun and resisted night by means of moonlight and oil-lamps, what a philosophy would cast its veil over them!” Something similar happened during the pandemic, which is also illustrated in Silence of Solitude. We had our pools of light and safety, primarily in the home; but out there was a cordon of darkness, where danger lurked. Momentary images of our clumsy attempts to defend ourselves. Don’t go there, don’t sit here, don’t play there. Using signs and barrier tape, we tried to keep the darkness at bay, and the philosophy that cast its veil over us said: keep your distance!
We remained seated at our windows, staring out on a world from which humanity and life had vanished. The same trees and bushes every day: even they began to fade into nothingness. Soon only the fog would remain. Healthcare became the final bastion. A steady stream of new reports on how many had been admitted to intensive care, surrounded by doctors and nurses who were also people in need of protection. In Silence of Solitude, we see what was left over.
Contaminated space suits, things left behind by braveastronauts who visited the hostile planet Covid. Some never returned to Earth. This is a tribute to them. It took some time, but eventually the fog dispersed. Colours returned to the world and simple kindness became possible again. To hold a door open, to help someone with a pram to get on a bus, to lend a hand where it’s needed.The pandemic has taught us that all this isn’t a given, but a gift. Let us make sure we make use of it.

Introduction text by: Joakim Eneroth

According to WHO, the global number of confirmed cases of COVID-19 is more than 770 million and the number of confirmed deaths is more than 7 million. During the COVID-19 pandemic, the instruction to protect ourselves was a mantra echoing loud around the world, with an emphasis never witnessed before. In this new world of self-protection, there was a contrast between those who constantly needed to protect themselves in direct interactions with people, and those who protected themselves by solitude and isolation in their homes. In many everyday situations, direct contact between people was replaced by distance. This phenomenon was observed among many occupations such as healthcare workers, shop keepers, and staff in supermarkets. During the COVID-19 pandemic a new visual landscape emerged in our societies, where people were hidden behind facemasks, mouth guards, and protective boards made of acrylic glass. In this new landscape, a vivid emptiness appeared in the many closed down public spaces. Empty trains, aircrafts, buses, subways, theatres, museums, closed down play grounds, sport arenas, and cinemas – previously crowded areas suddenly lacked passengers and visitors. All this mirrored how our societies were forced into a state of everyday responsibility. I have taken these photographs in Sweden and Scandinavia during the most intense years
of the COVID-19 pandemic. Total separation and solitude were many people’s way to protect themselves. Isolated in their homes, theywere looking out through the very same windows, day after day, week after week, month after

month – waiting. Their solitude created an intensive longing for the regulations to end and the high volume of caution to fade away. In the third chapter, I have photographed some of these windows where the inhabitants were isolated and
separated from the outside world. A huge work pressure, including the risk of their own life while at work, was a fact for healthcare staff around the world during the pandemic. This evoked gratitude, admiration, and compassion from the remaining population. After I had visited hospitals where occupational groups had been forced to protect themselves by the use of face masks, mouth protection, and gloves, I made photographic installations of used protective materials
defined as hazardous waste. The photographs in the last chapter testify and remind us of all those who made large contributions during the pandemic. And, as we all are aware of, a large number of healthcare workers also died due to their work with caring for patients infected by the virus. These years with COVID-19 have made a strong mark in our human history.

Research COVID-19 at Bristol University:

During the pandemic, there was a huge amount of research analyzing how far particles from a sneeze and a cough can travel. Research from the University of Bristol shows how different mouth activities result in droplets hitting the opposite person with different speeds (see screen-shots below, from their research presented on YouTube). Laughing, talking, coughing, sneezing, yawning – all these human activities shoot away droplets in various intensity. The research from the University of Bristol shows that an average sneeze or cough can send around 100 000 contagious germs into the air at speeds up to 100 miles per hour (160 km/h). Inspired by this research, I let color droplets with different speeds hit the photographs in this chapter.