We show the images that Anders highlighted and marked on the contact proof sheets, of the period, with signs, signals and colours. They have lost that original intention of prominance and of status, their Morse code, their meaning, but they have gained the gesture. The footprint. The pride of ingenuity. Their power. Graphic and plastic.
Café Lehmitz, the masterpiece by Anders Petersen, possesses magic. It tricks us as soon as we come through the door. It hypnotizes us. The atmosphere is supreme. Anders takes possession of the air. He submerges us in life. Gaze and throbbing of the anthropologist, of the naturalist. He does not judge. Nor does he add pretentiousness nor artifice to his gaze. The night and its journey. Like that of Céline, with the difference that in Anders’s eyes there is no room for that pessimism. He is more clement. He is not a cynic.
He wants them, he is an accomplice. He toasts and dances with them. He drags us to follow them. We end up getting to know them. His photography fuels them to exist. He loves those who never show themselves. The invisible ones. We see Scar, a shirtless sword swallower in the difficult situation of getting himself into a mess. In the background, a jukebok and music. Vices of love. Voices come to us. Ramona gives and seduces; Gretel asks… Tenderness pushes. Understanding. The equals share night and temple. They are penitent. Those of scourge and of joy. Solitude and failure. Sublimity… Café Lehmitz is a generous work of shared humanity. An unforgettable work. Tear-jerking. I am a witness.
— Alberto García-Alix