STUDIO VISIT WITH KLAUS KOCHER
STUDIO VISIT WITH KLAUS KOCHER
The moment you enter the dark room stuffed floor to ceiling with printing papers, cameras, and a seemingly endless amount of photographs, you know you’ve entered the space of a creative. It's like the kind of caricature that media portrays in films of the ‘artistic obsession’ - supplies scattered everywhere, remnants of hundreds of projects and ideas, tools of the trade lining the walls, and in the center of it all, the artist that knows their stuff. That’s exactly how it feels when Swiss photographer Klaus Kocher, and more importantly-my Dad, shows you his studio space.
I have countless memories as a little girl roaming around the house to discover my Dad in his usual spot. Behind a dark closed door. He’d even have a towel stuffed at the foot of the door to snuff out any light that could possibly creep in. If you know anything about working in a dark room and film photography you know when processing film, light needs to be one of the most controlled factors.
My Dad had rules about what to do if he was working in his dark room. If the door was already closed and he was working we couldn’t just open the door but always had to knock. He’d call out from inside asking what we needed, sometimes it was someone on the landline and he’d need to take it. He’d open the door the tiniest possible crack to squeeze the phone in and disappear. Other times I’d be playing with empty film cartridge rolls, stacking up little towers to knock down and he’d give me a chance to get out of the room before processing or I’d be forced to stay inside until he was done. Naturally, as a kid I’d rather rip around than be trapped for hours at a time. The times I did stay I remember the smell of chemicals as baths were poured for his negatives, the overhead lights turned off and replaced but an almost eerie low red light to work by.
Klaus is wearing the signature shirt 3/4 in white linen
Klaus’s dedication and love for this craft hasn’t wavered a moment since my childhood. No matter the occasion my Dad is making photos, teaching about photography or, reading about famous photographers/photo history/you name it. This connection to a craft seemed normal to me growing up, it was his ‘thing’ and I hadn’t necessarily thought twice about it. Now as an adult, I-like many others-have a bigger respect for those who actually have this creative craft that they’ve honed and done out of love for most of their lives. I’m lucky enough to have such wonderful role models as parents of people who dedicated themselves to something and now I hope to someday be able to follow in their footsteps in really building something.
Klaus is also an avid fan of craftsmen as well. So when Robbert presented Klaus his first piece from our handmade collection he was eager to try it on and admire the handiwork. It’s a gift, as a creative, for others to experience your work. Both Robbert and I glowed watching my Dad move around his studio in something truly from us.
"You've got to find your switch"
I found myself asking a question I never thought to ask growing up, “What first sparked your interest in photography?” It seemed foolish since I’ve known him for 25 years but when they are your parents sometimes you don’t even realize the unopened story of the people who have been there the whole time.
He pauses, smiles, and starts by saying, “I was 12 years old and for whatever reason our school had a late shipment for science books and our teacher decided to show us some processing in a dark room. It was like magic.” I see him light up thinking back to that moment of realization and inspiration.
My Dad grew up within a Spanish speaking family that moved very often throughout the world. By the time he was 12 he was still learning English, it being his third language after Spanish and German… “I wasn’t very good at writing or that sort of thing.” He continued, “ I’m more of a visual person. And that kind of helped me too because I can express myself with pictures more than words. I’m sure that helped that feeling of ‘I love this!’ Because I’m not good at the other things, that’s not me. You’ve got to find your switch.”
“Yesterday I was processing two rolls of film and it put a smile on my face and thought ‘damn this is so cool’. This is what keeps me happy."
This alone made me smile too, because this is how I know my Dad. He’s an incredible photographer because he doesn’t do it for vanity or a means to an end, he does it because it makes him happy. He loves photography, he loves my mother, and he loves the lifestyle he chose. None of it is because of anything beyond truly following his heart and doing “his thing”.
It was beautiful to share these moments and a piece of arcé because we also aim to embody this same mentality. We do this because this is what we love. We love craftsmanship, connection, story-telling, and the idea of creating something that goes beyond a “means to an end” but instead treat it as an end in and of itself.
STUDIO VISIT WITH KLAUS KOCHER
STUDIO VISIT WITH KLAUS KOCHER
STUDIO VISIT WITH KLAUS KOCHER
The moment you enter the dark room stuffed floor to ceiling with printing papers, cameras, and a seemingly endless amount of photographs, you know you’ve entered the space of a creative. It's like the kind of caricature that media portrays in films of the ‘artistic obsession’ - supplies scattered everywhere, remnants of hundreds of projects and ideas, tools of the trade lining the walls, and in the center of it all, the artist that knows their stuff. That’s exactly how it feels when Swiss photographer Klaus Kocher, and more importantly-my Dad, shows you his studio space.
I have countless memories as a little girl roaming around the house to discover my Dad in his usual spot. Behind a dark closed door. He’d even have a towel stuffed at the foot of the door to snuff out any light that could possibly creep in. If you know anything about working in a dark room and film photography you know when processing film, light needs to be one of the most controlled factors.
My Dad had rules about what to do if he was working in his dark room. If the door was already closed and he was working we couldn’t just open the door but always had to knock. He’d call out from inside asking what we needed, sometimes it was someone on the landline and he’d need to take it. He’d open the door the tiniest possible crack to squeeze the phone in and disappear. Other times I’d be playing with empty film cartridge rolls, stacking up little towers to knock down and he’d give me a chance to get out of the room before processing or I’d be forced to stay inside until he was done. Naturally, as a kid I’d rather rip around than be trapped for hours at a time. The times I did stay I remember the smell of chemicals as baths were poured for his negatives, the overhead lights turned off and replaced but an almost eerie low red light to work by.
Klaus is wearing the signature shirt 3/4 in white linen
Klaus is wearing the signature shirt 3/4 in white linen
Klaus is wearing the signature shirt 3/4 in white linen
Klaus’s dedication and love for this craft hasn’t wavered a moment since my childhood. No matter the occasion my Dad is making photos, teaching about photography, or reading about famous photographers/photo history/you name it. This connection to a craft seemed normal to me growing up, it was his ‘thing’ and I hadn’t necessarily thought twice about it. Now as an adult, I-like many others-have a bigger respect for those who actually have this creative craft that they’ve honed and done out of love for most of their lives. I’m lucky enough to have such wonderful role models as parents of people who dedicated themselves to something and now I hope to someday be able to follow in their footsteps in really building something.
Klaus is also an avid fan of craftsmen as well. So when Robbert presented Klaus his first piece from our handmade collection he was eager to try it on and admire the handiwork. It’s a gift, as a creative, for others to experience your work. Both Robbert and I glowed watching my Dad move around his studio in something truly from us.
"You've got to find your switch"
"You've got to find your switch"
"You've got to find your switch"
I found myself asking a question I never thought to ask growing up, “What first sparked your interest in photography?” It seemed foolish since I’ve known him for 25 years but when they are your parents sometimes you don’t even realize the unopened story of the people who have been there the whole time.
He pauses, smiles, and starts by saying, “I was 12 years old and for whatever reason our school had a late shipment for science books and our teacher decided to show us some processing in a dark room. It was like magic.” I see him light up thinking back to that moment of realization and inspiration.
My Dad grew up within a Spanish speaking family that moved very often throughout the world. By the time he was 12 he was still learning English, it being his third language after Spanish and German… “I wasn’t very good at writing or that sort of thing.” He continued, “ I’m more of a visual person. And that kind of helped me too because I can express myself with pictures more than words. I’m sure that helped that feeling of ‘I love this!’ Because I’m not good at the other things, that’s not me. You’ve got to find your switch.”
“Yesterday I was processing two rolls of film and it put a smile on my face and thought ‘damn this is so cool’. This is what keeps me happy."
This alone made me smile too, because this is how I know my Dad. He’s an incredible photographer because he doesn’t do it for vanity or a means to an end, he does it because it makes him happy. He loves photography, he loves my mother, and he loves the lifestyle he chose. None of it is because of anything beyond truly following his heart and doing “his thing”.
It was beautiful to share these moments and a piece of arcé because we also aim to embody this same mentality. We do this because this is what we love. We love craftsmanship, connection, story-telling, and the idea of creating something that goes beyond a “means to an end” but instead treat it as an end in and of itself.