I make photographs about what isn't there.
I came to photography backwards — through painting, then through long silences in the darkroom of my grandfather's house in the north. What I learned there was patience: that a print is not taken but arrived at, slowly, through subtraction.
My landscapes are made in the margins of the day — the hour before light, the hour after it — when fog does the work of simplifying a scene and the world becomes a study in tone. My portraits are the same impulse turned inward: one light, one face, one direction of gaze.
I print everything myself, by hand, in editions of twenty-five. I believe a photograph is not finished until it is paper — until the blacks have weight and the whites have air. The work is not complete until it is held.
Based on the north coast, I travel for the work — most recently to Lofoten, the Dolomites, and the Namib. I take on a small number of portrait commissions each year.