About
When I get stuck on the back step I go outside for ten minutes, and the answer tends to turn up on the way.
I still carry a kitchen scale almost everywhere, a habit picked up from an old colleague. The market in Basel on Monday mornings is where I find most of my materials and half my ideas.
Outside a day job in Basel, I do this for fun, not money, and it pays for its own film at best. Karin Schmid is a hobby photographer based in Basel, working mostly in documentary photography.
Exhibitions
- Group show, Porto public library, 2024
- Group show, Bologna public library, 2020
- Group show, Basel public library, 2019
Approach
I scan every negative myself on the balcony, on rainy weekends, and keep the edits minimal. I started photographing seriously in 2016, after borrowing a relative’s old Ricoh GR. Long train rides out of Basel are where most of this gets written, with a roll of brown paper on the seat beside me. When I am not photographing around Basel, I am usually in the garden.
On quiet Monday afternoons, there is a cup of coffee going cold somewhere on the train into Basel. Honestly, patience is the most useful tool in the drawer, followed closely by a tin of pencils and a jar of odd screws. I am drawn to people at work and long shadows, which is why documentary photography suits me.
Since 2016, most of my documentary work has been shot on an old Ricoh GR, which slows me down in a good way. Thanks for taking the time; the next series is already being edited, and contact sheets can be seen by arrangement.
My work has been shown in a café in Basel and a self-published zine, most recently on a long weekend in 2017. Weekends are usually split between baking bread on Sundays, reading on the train and whatever is half-finished at a borrowed workbench.
A friend from the walking group once told me to finish one thing before starting the next, and I wish I had listened sooner. In 2017 I moved to Basel, which made the allotment much easier to fit into a week. I picked up a cast iron pan late in 2022, and it has been close at hand ever since.
On a good day at the library in Basel I make progress, and on a bad day I at least learn that rushing never pays. Writing things down has saved me from repeating an old mistake again and again, most recently early in 2020. My Friday evenings mostly belong to cooking for friends, unless my sister needs a hand.
Most mornings before work, I usually end up at a friend’s place across town with a battered toolbox. New work is added every spring, usually after a long trip or a good autumn.
Most of my reading happens in a corner of the shed, a chapter or two at a time, with a pile of offcuts close by. The best ideas tend to arrive in the spare room at least once a month, usually just after I have put the pencil down. I read The Shepherd’s Life for the first time one wet weekend in November and still go back to it whenever the weather allows.
I would rather do one thing carefully than five things in a hurry, and years of swimming in the lake taught me that. All images on this site are my own, made around Basel and further afield, and may not be reused without permission.
I have a soft spot for old manuals and seed catalogues. Funnily enough, I try to keep things simple, which mostly means keeping a short list and asking someone who knows. Some early work from 2016 and the years after have been retired from the site but are still in the loft.
Visiting a new town, I always look for the library and a quiet café first, just as I did when I moved to Basel. If something here is out of date, it is probably because I spent a good part of 2025 walking along the harbour wall instead of at a desk in Basel.
The winter light in Basel makes everything feel harder than it looked. A lot of this would not exist without a retired teacher down the road, who patiently answered my questions one Friday in November.
Most of what ends up here starts out by the old town on slow Sunday mornings. Images are shown at screen size so the pages stay quick to load, even on a train. For what it is worth, small, regular habits like reading the manual first and walking away for ten minutes have done more for me than any big resolution. Some of my favourite things, like a shelf of field guides, came from flea markets and were mended in the small room above the stairs.
Every April, in a café near the castle hill, I look back at the year so far and quietly drop whatever is not working. There is no grand plan behind any of this, just tidying up before stopping on long spring evenings.