But then he returns to the viewfinder. He has been working on a new series he refuses to fully explain, titled “The Last Summer of Analog.” It consists of blurry, overexposed photos of swimming pools, empty lifeguard chairs, and the inside of a car windshield during a thunderstorm.
“Adults think blur is a mistake,” he says, packing his camera into a backpack covered in astronaut stickers. “I think blur is what memory looks like before you’re old enough to lie about it.” sebastian bleisch 11
“Adults get obsessed with sharpness and megapixels,” he says. “That’s boring. I care about how the light falls on wet asphalt at 6 p.m. in November.” But then he returns to the viewfinder
Sebastian’s response is disarmingly honest. “I understand being alone in a big room. I understand waiting for the bus in the rain. That’s not grown-up stuff. That’s just feelings.” “I think blur is what memory looks like
“I just picked up my mother’s old phone,” Sebastian recalls, his voice still carrying the unpolished lilt of childhood. “I didn’t like the crowded viewpoints. Everyone was taking the same picture of the Matterhorn. So I walked a few meters down the trail, got low to the ground, and waited for a cloud to cover the peak.”