The file name stares back from the folder: maturenl_24_03_29_irenka_photographing_my_old_s_new
– Irenka packs up. She leaves you with a single JPEG. The file name: maturenl_24_03_29_irenka_photographing_my_old_s_new_001.jpg
– She shows you the back of the camera. You see a watch that is not dead. You see a timepiece that tells a different kind of time: memory’s time. It looks new because you have never seen it like this – illuminated, centered, forgiven for stopping. maturenl 24 03 29 irenka photographing my old s new
If “my old is new” – a mantra. The act of photographing is secondary to the realization. Irenka is not making it new; she is witnessing that it never stopped being new. The dust is just slow confetti. Let me reconstruct what might have happened on 24 March 2029.
An essay on seeing familiar things for the first time The file name stares back from the folder:
It looks like a relic from a forgotten database—part Dutch ("maturenl" could hint at mature Netherlands or a username), part Slavic name ( Irenka : a diminutive of Irene, carrying warmth), part date (24 March 2029), and part mission statement: photographing my old as new .
In Zen aesthetics, there is wabi-sabi : the beauty of imperfection, impermanence, and incompleteness. Irenka’s work is wabi-sabi with a Dutch precision—clean backgrounds, careful aperture, but always a wrinkle, a scratch, a faded thread left in focus. Why that date? It is early spring. In the Netherlands, March 24th can be cruel or kind—perhaps snowdrops and crocuses are up, but the wind still bites. You see a watch that is not dead
– Irenka arrives at the apartment. She carries a single camera (a Fujifilm X-T5, she believes in APS-C sensors and classic chrome film simulation) and one lens (a 35mm f/1.4, manual focus). No tripod. No strobes.