Furillen

Mankind is a hideous breed, gouging, pillaging, and leaving behind jagged scars that appear incapable of healing with time. And yet nature takes it all in, zeroing the ruin porn it has inherited to reduce industrial prowess to a state of shattered nothingness.

Johann Hellström’s genius was to turn this abandoned limestone quarry with its oxidized madness into a design hotel experience like no other. In the long light of a Swedish summer, your camera comes alive, challenging you in new ways to capture the poetry, both past and present, of this dramatically shackled landscape.

Not far away is a Heidelberg cement plant to remind one that rapaciousness is not a forgotten art. But here in the lost world of Furillen, bicycles are meant for journeying, trails for exploring, and the Baltic Sea for icy plunging. Sweden’s chef-of-the-year gets his inspiration and goes wild to the delight of guests who, intoxicated by juniper gin, stumble over a mischievous hen before crossing the thresholds of their rooms for a descent into utter, blissful sleep.

Here’s my photo essay on Furillen.