I joined this Medland trip in need of a breath, a place outside of the city, especially, where I would be able to connect to nature, to others and myself. I wanted to be somewhere else, but nowhere at the same time - a pause, from daily life and daily time. Something was soothing to the idea of this sailing trip, where travelling was both a means and an end. Something was grounding to being on an ever-moving sea and letting the waves direct our rhythm.

With this trip, I also hoped to learn more about photography, especially portraits, with the support of Bojan. I had started photography six months before, and after a phase where I was completely engaged in it, I could notice my original enthusiasm fading. Not because photography itself was getting boring to me, but because I felt stuck - I didn’t find a way to connect with what I was seeing and photographing, to share what was important to me; taking pictures was starting to become brainy and anxiety-driving. 

During our trip, under the guidance of Bojan, I managed to start reconnecting with this part of me, with my intuition, following it without putting pressure or expectations on it. Letting it unfold gently and guide me through the photo walks we were having daily. The first photo walk, in Stari Grad, our departure port, I was quite uncertain and lost. Landscapes, town, architecture; I didn’t really know what to do with it, how to look at it. I had a 75mm lens and wanted to do portraits! “Everything is a portrait, because everything is a self-portrait”... 
Eventually, these exercises grew on me. Following Bojan’s advice, I started experimenting more with different settings - and their opposites -, apertures especially, and gradually let go of my near-manic obsession with bokeh. Switching to black & white mode and to a wider angle lens also helped me to observe the environment in a different way, to slow down, get into a flow of shadows and lights, textures, shapes, contrasts, and see beauty in so many different things.

Our sources of inspiration were ever-evolving. The open sea and its islands, like floating pyramids, come and go around us. Deserted Kornati and her moon-like landscape, her smell that reminded me of immortelle. Žman, on Dugi Otok, in the strong morning light, preparing for the coming season. Our dear Susak, that we finally reached, wet and tired, after three hours battling against the waves; whose small alleys, older upper village and nature left such a warm and welcoming impression on me. And eventually Venice, or more specifically Torcello and Sant’Erasmo, strangely quiet and peaceful, with the endlessly changing textures of the laguna.

Katja 

PWANDERING 

Who are you, hiding and gazing?

Who are you, when the path is revealed to you?

Forgotten, yet not lonely.

Present, proudly carrying your past.

COMPANIONS

Then there's a fleeting touch that lasts.

Gazing into the same reality through different eyes.

Each dancing their own dance. Off beat and with wobbly feet.

But we still dance. Together.

SILENCES

Without beginning, without the end.

—---------------------------------------------------

Photography is brutally intimidating. A medium that deserves to be touched only by the chosen ones. Or at least by those who possess the knowledge, the skills, and who create without any inner turmoil. Who am I to desecrate it? With a trembling hand, after nearly fifteen years, I picked up a camera again—and with it, the entire brutal weight of my own fears of creation. I know nothing, it won’t be good enough. Relentless. Without even asking myself what is enough and what is good.

My insecurity was further deepened by my lack of sailing knowledge. This time, I stepped onto a sailboat as a mere sailing tourist, a vessel I can only bow down to. But Nalu is a spirited and proud lady. What a privilege to be shown the world by such a creature!

And what a privilege that curiosity can turn fear into excitement. That it allows the creative desire to peek out of its musty hole. And simply explore …

Bojan accepted the challenge of my struggle and emphasized the essential: first connect with yourself, then with the world. Set an intention and ... Listen.

It worked. Throughout the voyage and the stops, nature began to tell me stories, to drop hints, to guide me. It communicated through the mysterious old walls in Stari Grad, magically revealed itself through the stony and endlessly alive Kornati islands, reminded me of the simplicity of the moment in Žman, embraced me with its presence on Susak, and showed its playful face on Sant'Erasmo. In between, the sea rocked us. The sea that has no boundaries, the sea from which the moon sets and the sun rises.

I felt invited and gratefully accepted the dialogue, the connection. A relationship that only strengthens and grows with presence.

And photography? Throughout the journey, it became my tool for communicating with the abstract; it encouraged me to become attentive, and I discovered that through it, I can connect worlds.