Dear Doug,

It’s
been quite a while now since we met, 

I hope you remember. 

When
we arrived at your place in the forest 

we had just started our
longest trip ever. 

The land we travelled through was spectacular, 

 but your home at San Jo never left my thoughts. 

A drowsy bear
crossed the long gravel road. 

The dripping woods, the soft green
mossy grass, 

the tree branches blocking the way. 

The
campground seemed deserted. We parked 

the car in an overgrown site
with rotten plastic 

chairs. I walked around, puzzled. There were 

 the weather worn remains of a large, unfinished 

building. A broken
car, a shed, and a cabin with 

smoke coming out of the chimney.
Dark trees crept

 in on the open space – wall-like, suffocating. 

From
the steps that led up to the door of your 

cabin I saw the interior
reflecting the haunted outside: 

an unmade bed in the corner, a
wood stove, faded 

postcards on the beams that supported a sooty
ceiling. 

The small desk at the dirty window was covered with 

 papers and pictures of cougars and bears. 

Then
you stood behind me, your hands black with 

dirt, smiling. You
seemed happy to have guests so 

late in the season. You showed us
the dark lake that 

adjoined the campground, and a short cut along
a 

muddy path to the beach, where we found sand 

dollars in the
surf. How have you been? Did you 

get a chance to work on the
hostel again? Or have 

you really given up that dream? Did you get
through 

the winters all right?

When
we left in the morning you made me promise to 

send you a postcard.
I bought one as soon as we 

got home. It was only then that I found
out I had

 lost your address. The card got lost in a drawer, 

but I
never forgot about you or San Jo. Now it’s 

time to track you down.
But no matter what I try, 

your campground seems to have
disappeared from 

the map. I’m sending this letter, along with the
card 

and some pictures to the Holberg post office. I sure 

hope to
find you this way. Because the forest calls. 

I long to breathe the
damp air and learn to live in the wild. 

Yours,

Karianne

Doug
answered two weeks later by email. The few sentences 

he wrote were
enough for me to decide to travel to San 

Josef Bay again and start a
new photo project, entitled 

Doug’s
Cabin for
now. What makes someone turn away 

from society like that? How does
anyone survive in the 

wilderness? I have always longed to escape, but
would

 I actually be able to do it? 

You
can buy the photographs below this email until the day

 I leave: May
28, 2013.
They were taken between 2008 and

 2010 in the US and Canada, some on
Doug’s campground.

 I selected the photographs as a sequence that
recalls the 

atmosphere of Doug’s surroundings. The purchase of one 

or
more prints will sponsor the project.

The
first results will be shown at the Unseen
Photo Fair in 

Amsterdam in September this year. After a possible follow-up 

trip in
May 2014 I will hold a large exhibition at LhGWR in 

The Hague, The Netherlands. 

The
inkjetprints, on Hahnemühle
fine art paper,
are 20×25 cm, 

with a small white border. They cost €60 each, this
is exluding

 6% tax and shipping costs. If you are interested, 

please
mailkarianne@kariannebueno.nl 

I
hope you are willing to help me realize Doug’s
Cabin in
this way.