Born in the cold north in the 90s, I never found that feeling of fitting in. Photography is my way of coping with the world, expressing my discomfort and to articulate my fears. I have always being attracted to aesthetics and beauty, but I have never seen my own work as particularly beautiful, more as an explanation of my world and my whirlwind of emotions.
«Bull is capable of glamour and sunshine brilliance. It’s just that from somewhere deep within the outward beauty, something unhinges just noticeably enough to force you to re-think what you felt.»
-Freddy Martinez, PhotoWhoa
I do love photography, and for me that is something that allows me to live. Sometimes I find it hard to embrace all the impressions in the world. I want to have time and energy to both collect and recall all those treasured moments in life. I love the smell of grass, when it’s freshly mowed. I love the heat from the sun, and the long-lasting nights just running outside in the summer. I love the moon, and its unique ability mesmerize me. I love the sound of laughter, and how contagious that is. I love the touch between humans, and I love to look at people captured in their own thoughts. I love the sound of trees whispering, and to walk barefoot in the forest. The sound of a piano, and the emotions attached with that gives me goosebumps. With photography I can capture all those things and it allows me to stay alive. And not only through my own work, but looking at others’ work as well. It makes me remember the small beautiful things in this mad, messed up world we live in and it helps me feel alive.