Biography

I think I have always been someone who notices things and moments others miss. Every now an then, there is a moment that stands out and is worth preserving.

Even as a child, I would stop and look at things other people seemed to walk past without paying much attention to them: insects, frogs, lizards, stones, the bark of a tree, anything that caught my eye. My parents had a small film camera, and every now and then I would take it without asking and use an entire roll of film photographing bugs and small animals. I don’t remember them being especially enthusiastic about that.

Photography only became a serious part of my life much later, a little over twenty years ago, but looking back, I think the interest was always there. I was drawing a lot when I was younger and was generally fascinated by visual things. Photography eventually became the medium that suited me best, and over time it became something much more important to me than simply taking pictures.

I still tend to notice the same kinds of things today. I can spend a surprisingly long time looking at a small mushroom in the forest or some pattern in a tree. There is so much beauty around us that is very easy to miss. It does not always come in the form of a spectacular sunset or an enormous mountain. Sometimes you have to get down on your knees, or even lie on the ground, before you really see it.

Being outside is also a large part of why I photograph. I enjoy being on my own in nature, with nowhere in particular I need to be. It gives me a sense of freedom and distance from everyday life. I walk, look around, think, and occasionally stop because something catches my attention. Photography is part of that experience, but not the whole of it. Those hours outside are also where I tend to think about work, family, life and whatever else happens to be occupying my mind.

Some of my photographs happen like that, but many of them are planned. I might return to a particular place several times, wait for the right weather or watch the sky because I want a certain kind of cloud movement or light. Even when I know a place very well, it never really looks the same twice. The wind changes, the clouds move, the light shifts, the trees move differently. I can take several photographs only seconds apart and still find that one of them feels right while the others do not.

I rarely think of a photograph as something that simply comes out of the camera. Quite often, while I am standing there making the picture, I already have an idea of what I want it to become. I may imagine the tones, what I want to remove, what I want to make quieter, or even how it might eventually look as a large print.

That last part matters a lot to me. I do not really consider a digital image to be the finished work. A screen is useful, but it still feels like an intermediate step. For me, the photograph really comes alive when it is printed properly, especially at a larger size. The surface of the paper, the depth of the tones, the way light falls on it, and simply being able to hold something physical in your hands make it a very different experience. That is the point where the image finally feels complete to me.

My photographs are usually quite quiet. I like simplicity, negative space and subjects that have room around them. I tend to avoid busy scenes and strong, harsh colours. I am drawn to softer tones, smooth transitions and images where the subject stands clearly apart from its surroundings. The same is true whether I am photographing a mushroom, a landscape, a building or my daughter.

I also enjoy infrared photography, perhaps because it takes that feeling even further. Black skies and dark water can become almost empty spaces, while white foliage or a small foreground subject can suddenly feel very delicate. I find that contrast fascinating.

Most of my photographs are made for myself. I do not photograph because I feel a need to constantly publish something, and I rarely post my work. I simply enjoy the whole process: finding something, imagining the picture, making it, working on it afterwards, sometimes struggling with it for hours, and eventually seeing it become what I had in mind.

The camera is only one part of that process. Over the years I have learned many different techniques, and I am still learning. Some are used while making the photograph, others later when I work on the image. They are simply tools that help me get closer to what I imagined in the first place.

What matters most to me is still the same thing that fascinated me as a child: noticing something, stopping for a moment, and giving it a little more attention than it might otherwise have received.