Anna-(K/Carin) Jonsson

It’s time for me to continue telling you about my playmates. I started this spring and told you about Truls, Mårten, André, Kat and Hanna, and now I want you to know all about Anna-(K/Carin). It’s a bit confusing, her name that is. I once asked her about what she wanted me to call her and she had on clear answer. She sometimes uses the double name and sometimes not, and if you’d ask her or her parents about the spelling, they disagree. So let’s call her A-K/C cause it looks cool.
A-K/C is an incredibly good friend of mine and we can sit closely for hours, telling each other about very cool/strange things we saw or heard of that no one else understands. We share an obsession for steam punk, military uniforms and of course old broken things, we are soulmates.





I had been wanting to cut her hair for two years, and she had nightmares about accidentally falling asleep in my sofa and waking up with no hair. But this summer she finally was ready and asked me to do something cool. I photographed her (above) just to remember that day. There was no time to waste, but no time to find, she was fully booked and about to leave town just two days later. I felt I had to move quickly in order to not loose magic of the moment. However, neither of us had any other plans than sleeping the following night, so we came to the conclusion that a little get-together was a way better thing to do.
She came over to my place at a very late hour and I specified my plans. -Let’s film the whole thing and do it in the secret chamber I just found in the basement! Now, it might sound like I tricked her into this, but you should know that her mind works in mysterious ways too. She had brought some very blunt old fashioned razor knifes for our session, and immediately suggested we started out by trapping ourselves in fabric cocoons in the dirty old basement chamber.

In my studio we found some black elastic fabric that we sewed together into two cocoons. We lined up her razor knifes and some of my tailor scissors on the dusty floor and A-K/C placed a vicious old wind meter on top of an old radiator. The room was a perfectly claustrofobic old bomb shelter closed with a heavy iron door that had a proper lever that you had to turn to open. The chamber was never cleaned and was filled with forgotten things. It had a beautiful ragged old table in the corner, overloaded with brown glass bottles, spider web, cables and rusty tins.

By that time it was in the middle of the night, and André came over with his camera. A-K/C and I got naked in our cocoons and they were closed from the outside. We snaked around on the floor for at least half an hour, trying to get out, feeling like straightjacket prisoners. It was hard to breath with all the dust and dirt that was whisked into the air, and the line between excitement and panic was rather fine.

After some time had passed, I managed to make a hole in my cocoon and ripped it open. Getting out of it was such a relief. I then used the barber razor blade to cut A-K/C out of her imprisonment and started to cut off the long hairlocks covering her frightened face. I tell you, that was a dull piece of equipment! I had to saw to get through her curls, so I switched into the heavy tailors scissors my father once bought me in Rome. It had a beautiful sound and soon the sides of A-K/C’s head were groomed into a grey 6 mm cut. I saved a long lock in the front and one in the back, and in the end it all looked like a wicked dystopian mohawk of a Venezian courtesan.