In the beginning, there was no plan and no conscious decision to photograph in the mountains. It wasn’t about capturing a moment, as in Japan, or documenting a culture. It was simply the urge to preserve the quiet, untouched beauty of nature.

Carrying old cameras up the peaks – free from digital technology and unnecessary equipment – felt like a return to the origins. Knowing that people walked these same paths a hundred years ago makes me feel compelled to honor them by trying it myself. In this simplicity lies an intensity that our fast-paced world often forgets.

Of course, this path came with challenges: freezing temperatures, shutter mechanisms icing over, the weight of the 4x5-inch view camera. Without a light meter, reading the light was often a mystery, and after long climbs the senses weren’t always sharp. Every single shot required planning and calm.

Over time, the project took shape. I always carried the 4x5 camera with three film holders and a tripod, along with a smaller camera – usually the Lubitel 166 Universal or the Kodak Retinette 1a. Six large-format exposures per trip meant working deliberately: set up the camera, choose the frame, read the light, release the shutter – then pack everything up and continue to the next summit.

In the end, it became clear: working with as little equipment as possible allows the closest connection to nature, to the moment, and to one’s own perception – a principle that became the heart of this project and ultimately gave it its title: Slowdown.