Continuous mode

Enjoying a slight photography overdose. Just like with museum visits, cramming too much in too little time results in a tremendous headache. Can’t stop nevertheless. I don’t even let the photos rest a little a bit – I just shoot, develop, scan, edit and send in one long run, almost in a blur. Already lost track of how much film I burned yesterday; something around a hundred frames over two hours. That 50 meter bulk roll won’t last long at that rate.

Actually, there’s no headache – just a feeling of pressure in my head that can be overcome easily. Most of our limits cease to be once we realize we can just bend them out of the way with our passion.


My house looks like a junkie meeting place right now – except that instead of needles and syringes there are empty cups everywhere. I did my first real studio shoot today; a friend came by and we spent the evening tuning the lighting, trying out the poses, exchanging ideas, talking about life and drinking coffee. Lots of coffee. Mix the excitement of creation with the power of caffeine and I’m feeling like a little bouncy spring right now.

The idea to build a studio in my room was born in a flash when I was terminally bored a few weeks ago and I resolved to do something crazy before the boredom actually puts me in a coma. At that moment I knew what I was going to do – and before the end of the day I ordered a white background and wall brackets.

The results are exceeding my bravest expectations. I didn’t even attach the background to the wall yet and I already got three shoots arranged for the upcoming week. Turns out I’m gonna have to borrow my friend’s professional lighting set as the IKEA lamps don’t quite cut it when it comes to color balance. Besides that, though, I’m amazed how little one actually needs to find the much needed inspiration and the space for making the ideas spring to life.

Then there’s also the story of two desks – but that’s for another time.

Prague loot.

The huge 50m bulk reel did not fit in my loader; I had to manually split it into two smaller ones. There’s no question whether Fomapan 400 is any good: I bought 30 rolls worth of it, so it’s going to be my film of choice for the next six months – no matter what.


Here’s a dirty little secret of living an interesting, creative life: you must allow yourself to get bored, and then act on it.

Took me an awfully long time to figure out, but this is what’s been missing from my life for at least a year. We all seem so busy now we CAN’T STAND being bored. Here’s the killer pattern: people get together, people talk about recent stuff, people get bored because they run out of recent stuff to talk about, people part and go searching for new thrills because bored is a waste of time.

Except it isn’t.

This seems to be the only practical difference between the careless life of a young person and a serious, grown adult: the adults don’t play.

The last time I allowed myself to get genuinely bored was the previous Sunday. The result? I completely reorganized my room, adding a second desk exclusively for offline-mode crafts (drawing, etc.) and installing a photo background – something I’ve been putting off for years. All this because of a single “I’m bored, let’s do something” said to my friend.

I’m definitely getting a pair these badasses this winter… that is, when and if my left arm recovers. It no longer hurts like hell every time I move, but I it’s still pretty much unusable; I basically can’t lift my hand above the head level without cringing in pain and reminding myself that was a really stupid idea. I could probably ride a bike if I kept I peaceful pace but I shudder to think what would happen if I had to make a sharp turn or I actually had another accident.

I had no idea you can actually hurt yourself that bad just by falling off a bicycle.


I just had an enlightenment that’s so important it’s already hanging above my desk – and I’m replicating it here lest I forget:

Creation happens offline.

It came in a flash in the middle of the night, after I turned all my computers off and was drawing something in my sketchbook. I realized every single creative endeavor I take upon needs no internet access to complete. Be it playing music, drawing, coding, editing photos, et cetera – the creative phase happens in a state of isolation from the world and even if there’s an upload phase, that’s just the cherry on the top of the cake.

This inevitably means I’ll soon start some kind of “work offline” experiment. It will end abruptly after three to five days as my lolcat addiction will kick in, but three attempts later it will actually work – albeit in a much different form than I’d ever expected.

PS. We are shockingly good at rationalizing our addictions. Until this day I was quite convinced I actually needed internet access to work – while, in fact, it’s the opposite.


Well, shit. Someone up there actually listened to my complaints that life has been flying by way too fast recently. I just lost my 5th gear.

I had a minor bike accident today; my bike’s front wheel caught on the tram rail and caused the entire [Kosma+bike] assembly to wobble uncontrollably for a split second before becoming a live payload catapult.

Here’s how it feels. The only reason I’m describing this is because as long as I’m focused on writing, I’m not focused on the fact that my left arm will be pretty much out of order for at least two weeks.

The moment you lose control of your bike, you know it. There’s a short struggle where you try to stabilize it – before jumping off. Here’s the first tip: a controlled fall is always better than an uncontrolled one. Even if it involves jumping off a vehicle rolling down the street at 20km/h.

So you jump. There’s a short flight which I remember quite clearly; the sight of the road inevitably approaching at a weird angle. At that point, somewhere around hitting the ground, a thought came: so WHAT NOW? Well, there’s the second tip: don’t fight. If you come rolling, curl up in a ball; if you start sliding (like I did), just slide. If you try to lessen the impact damage by shielding yourself with your hands, you’ll break them, so just don’t.

You came to the stop. Congratulations! My first reflex was to pull the bike off the street. Tip no. 3: don’t do it because if you do, the witnesses will drive away and you’ll have no one to help you in case something bad just happened. And you don’t know what happened yet since you’re on a gigantic adrenaline rush. You could as well have a broken limb or an internal hemorrhage and not have a clue. If I didn’t pull the bike off the street, I’d be basically blocking half of the intersection. This would be bad for all the people rushing somewhere, but – as I discovered at that instant – rushing wasn’t the best idea in the first place. Bad for them, good for me – at least I’d get some help.

So, here’s the moment when your consciousness starts to slowly process what just happened. You were probably rushing to some meeting, event or work – except now you’re all dirty, your entire body aches like hell, you’re sitting in on the curb in the middle of an intersection – and your bike is broken. You’re amazed by the lack of reaction: people slow down and continue on; no one stops to ask if anything’s wrong. You absentmindedly text someone to let them know you won’t be coming to an appointment because, well.. you had a bit of an accident.

A few minutes pass. As you regain your calm, you look at your bag and realize it’s all dirty because you slid on it – and then you realize your entire digital life was inside. Tablet, phone, camera – you turn them on one by one, finding it a miracle they all survived the fall much better than you did.

You muster up enough strength to pull yourself and the bike to a safer place and start counting the losses. Missed appointment. Ruined day. A rather hard-to-find part of the gear mechanism shattered in pieces. Clothes & bag dirty. Some blood on your face… oh well. You reach for your iPhone, thinking of using it as a mirror… and only then, when you twist your left arm in an awkward way, you cringe in pain as you realize just how far your muscles got stretched in the accident. You lift your left hand in the same gesture you use to grab the handlebar; the resulting pain is so bad you instinctively tighten all your muscles, making it even worse. You self-diagnose the obvious: bones intact, muscles stretched way too far.

That’s the point where you just resign. You catch the tram back home. Whatever you were rushing to get to in time doesn’t matter anymore; all you long for now is the comfort of your own home and a cup of tea.

And that’s it. It may seem like nothing; give or take two or three weeks and I’ll probably be fine. At the same time, life just got so much harder: even typing this is an effort for I can’t quite find a comfortable position. Thankfully, the wrists took no damage, but there’s little comfort in this if you don’t have any lifting force to get them to where you want them to be. Forget violin and piano; forget Quake and Starcraft. It’s not the kind of accident that will keep me from coding, but it’s going be much less enjoyable.

Until I order a replacement part my bike’s 5th gear won’t work. Sadly, there’s no replacement part to lift me from the 2nd gear feeling I have right now.


My bike is my independence. It’s the freedom and the pleasure of going wherever I please; to ride like mad across the town and then sit by the quay and watch a lonely sailboat until I’m frozen to the bone by the chilling wind.

My bike has two lights, white and red. I don’t know any better way to celebrate The Independence Day than this.