THE INTERVIEW
For a magazine I was interviewed in late 2025. I thought it would be a nice idea to upload the entire interview here on my website for you to get an impression of my personality, beliefs and general convictions in life.
I. The Journey As A Photographer
1. Your work moves between extremes, scorching dunes and frozen horizons. What first drew you to landscapes that test the body as much as the eye?
I’ve always been drawn to places that feel a little off the beaten path, lands that challenge you physically but reward you visually. In arctic and frozen environments, I’m fascinated by the textures, the way ice forms patterns that look almost sculpted. And in deserts, the clean, satisfying shapes of sand dunes feel like nature’s design at its purest. The entire process of traveling to the spot, dealing with the available light and using all elements on the spot to select the best composition make the adventure complete. The extreme places make you truly work for the image, and that effort becomes part of the experience. Walking through fresh snow that’s several meters thick, or hiking up steep sand dunes that drain the energy out of your body need great motivation. But the potential of creating a great image is enough to keep me going despite the physical challenges. Blisters, sand in my eyes, frozen toes and fingers, dehydration, twisted ankles, getting totally wet, climbing trees and cliffs, etc. I can keep extending this list if I would sum up all I went through during all these years of capturing landscapes my way, but it already gives a representative impression.
When talking about the process of delivering great landscape photo’s the attention mostly lays at the actual moment of pressing the shutter button. However, it doesn’t stop there as many photos need very time consuming and technical post processing with different editing software. That’s not always the most appealing job but when the end result is good it makes everything more worthwhile. So it doesn’t just test your body and eye in the field but also afterwards when spending hours behind a computer. Even before taking the actual photo preparation is needed that in some cases also involves a lot of effort.
2. When you stand before a scene like a wind-carved desert or the electric glow of the aurora, what tells you this is the moment to raise the camera?
It’s almost instinctive. When my eyes find something beautiful or unusual, I know the camera will reveal even more. Especially at night, when it can capture light beyond what the human eye perceives. In those moments, I also feel a personal challenge: to translate the emotion and spectacle I’m experiencing into an image or artwork. If a scene moves me, that’s my signal to shoot. Basically your eyes notice, your brain processes and it immediately tells me whether the visual has the potential of being of great photo.
When traveling my eyes constantly scan the area for potential compositions. However, over the years you get more selective and the light plays a major role. So in many cases it’s just scouting, so I look around for good compositions to use when the light is better so I can return to the exact same spot later.
3. Do you view your photography as documentation or interpretation?
My work leans more toward documentation, but with room for artistic expression. I try to keep things real and true to the moment, while using thoughtful editing to enhance what was already there. I want the viewer to feel the authenticity of the place, even if the final image carries a touch of creative refinement. I also focus a lot on layers in order to create depth and context. A great landscape picture mostly has an interesting foreground, midground and background. They should all complement each other and together make a coherent composition that satisfies the eyes. These different layers should give the viewer a good impression of how the actual place looks and feels. The photo functions as a visual representation that somehow teleports the viewer to that actual spot, with the intention to impress and inspire. Inspiration to make them also wish to be there and experience it themselves, but also to inspire them in their photography journey as well as to increase their respect towards nature and art.
4. How much do you rely on instinct versus preparation when shooting in extreme environments?
It’s a balance of both. You have to be prepared: weather, gear, safety and timing, but you also need to be ready for the unexpected. Extreme landscapes constantly shift, and you’ll always encounter new subjects, angles, compositions, and light conditions you couldn’t plan for. Preparation keeps you safe; instinct helps you create. The surprise effect of sudden changes in light, like a rainbow that appears or a beautiful orange light burst, but also sudden wildlife sightings make landscape photography less predictable. Sometimes you get more than you expected, sometimes less, but that keeps it very interesting.
5. You’ve walked landscapes many people will only ever see in photographs. What responsibility do you feel when choosing what to show, and what to leave unseen?
I want to share the beauty I experience, but I’m careful about revealing exact locations. Some places need to stay pristine, and mass tourism can quickly damage fragile environments. I recognize that my work can contribute to a location’s popularity, and that’s a responsibility I take seriously. Still, I feel it’s important to show people how extraordinary the planet is, maybe even inspire more respect for it, while protecting the places that can’t afford increasing exposure. I wouldn’t leave beautiful sights in nature unseen, I would just undisclose the location.
6. Has there been a specific moment in the field, alone with your camera, when you felt something click, as if you suddenly understood who you were becoming as an artist?
I think moments like these accumulate over time. And that’s what makes my job, which is also my biggest hobby and passion, so interesting. But the most distinctive memory of a moment was capturing the Milky Way in La Palma when suddenly some “cloud falls” appeared. This is a natural phenomenon where clouds flow over a mountain edge and dissolve. It was the first time I witnesses this spectacle at night. I immediately felt that this was something I wanted to capture more often in different places around the world. But, it’s up to Mother Nature if she will provide you with these conditions. Now, years later and many more cloud falls images richer, I believe that photos like these define my work and are a vital part of my artistic signature.
Another moment was the first time I walked next to flowing lava at an eruption. It was a very special moment that I will cherish forever. The smell, the heat, the textures, the smoke and above all the glowing orange flowing substance really left me amazed.
II. The Outsider
1. You have photographed places far from where you were born. What does being an outsider mean to you when your work depends on entering someone else’s world?
Every bit of land on earth is claimed by some country. But I don’t really consider all nature as possession of mankind. When you are far away in a remote area, far from civilization, you have to comply to the rules of nature. For example, adapt to the harsh climate, keep a safe distance from wildlife, be able to provide yourself with sufficient nutritious food and water, etc. It’s definitely someone elses world, but that “someone else” for me are the true native residents of that area: the local wildlife. I am the outsider trespassing in their habitat so I have to respect them. And while trespassing isn’t particularly respectful, I do compensate for that in other ways. For example, if I find small trash during a hike I bring it with me to dispose it later, and I am a vegetarian. This means I would never find myself in a situation where I took pictures of a landscape with herds of grazing mammals in it, while enjoying a beef sandwich.
2. Many photographers risk falling into voyeurism when documenting unfamiliar cultures or landscapes. How do you keep your work rooted in respect rather than spectacle?
This can be done by staying discrete, so when taking a picture rather zoom instead of getting too close. If you still need to get close, ask for permission. Also be quiet and dress respectful. Buy from the locals to support them, even though I rarely buy souvenirs as I believe most of it is rubbish that eventually ends up as garbage.
When it comes up to wildlife, never feed them or try to pet them. It’s very important that wildlife remains wild and that animals don’t become tame and dependent on humans for their food supply.
3. How do the locals you encounter, whether in desert communities or remote Nordic villages, shape the way you frame your images.
The people I come across during my photo journeys are for example the locals of Socotra (Yemen), the Touareg communities in the southern Algerian Sahara as well as the primitive native people in the highlands of Madagascar. I often love to give my images a human touch by adding one or more locals in my landscape frames. As my main focus is landscapes, the role of the person in my frame is mostly to function as a reference of scale. Although the traditional clothing really adds a sense of culture and authentic atmosphere to the frame, which shapes my photo’s with so much more meaning, context and emotion.
4. What have these landscapes taught you about humility, especially in places that don’t care who you are or where you come from?
These landscapes have taught me that humility isn’t just a mindset, it’s a survival skill and a way of seeing. In desert dunes, on glacial coastlines, or in the far Arctic, you realize very quickly that the land does not recognize you, reward you, or bend to your expectations. These places don’t care who you are, where you come from, or what you’ve achieved. Standing in environments like these strips away the illusion of control. A shift in weather, a sudden whiteout, or a sandstorm can remind you how small you are. At the same time, that smallness becomes grounding. You move slower, notice more, and accept the fact that you’re a guest rather than a conqueror.
Out there, your identity matters far less than your awareness and your willingness to adapt. In the end, those landscapes teach you that humility isn’t about feeling lesser, it’s about recognizing the scale and wonder of the world, and knowing that you’re part of something far bigger than yourself.
III. The Tour Guide
1. Guiding others into remote environments requires trust. What made you decide to take on that responsibility?
Guiding others into remote environments is a responsibility I didn’t take on lightly. For me, the decision came from a combination of my ambition to travel as a job and the belief that meaningful experiences are often unlocked when they’re shared with likeminded people.
Over the years, I realized that many people want to experience deserts, glaciers, or polar regions, but they don’t always know how to approach them safely or cost effectively. I already spent time learning the risks, the logistics, the best angles of the local landscapes and the timing of the best weather conditions. With that understanding came a sense of duty: if I could help someone experience these environments like I do, with deeper awareness and a complete focus on delivering the most satisfying images, then it felt worth stepping into that guiding role.
What ultimately motivated me was trust, not just from others, but in myself. Trust that I could read a landscape, make sound decisions under pressure, and prioritize safety over ego or ambition. Trust that I could set the tone and create an experience where people connect with the destination.
I chose to take on that responsibility because I believe that remote environments can shape people in profound ways. Helping someone enter those spaces with care, confidence, and gratitude is something I value deeply. It’s not about being the one in charge, it’s about being the one who ensures the place and the people are treated with the reverence they deserve.
2. What is the emotional reward of watching someone experience their first aurora, their first sandstorm, their first real sense of smallness?
Moments like these bring back my own memories of seeing these awe-inspiring places for the first time, and therefore bring back this feeling that can be very rewarding and overwhelming. This fuels me to explore more special destinations around the world in order to scout the best landscape spots that our planet has to offer. I eventually wish to offer tours to places where non of my competitors go. When talking about the sense of smallness, this sense is way easier to reach when photographing an amazing landscape while being out there without any other visitors apart from our own small group. It definitely feels more intimate being there, for example at the foot of an impressive mountain covered in golden light from the rising sun, while being there all alone as our group.
3. When you watch travelers lift their own cameras toward scenes you’ve captured countless times, what goes through your mind?
To be honest when this happens I usually question myself why they didn’t pick a better angle, for example with a good foreground. When I see my own participants doing this, I always advice them which angles I would pick to capture the scene the best. But apart from my opinion on their photography choices I do feel I can relate deeply. It reminds me of the time I arrived at this particular spot for the first time. It’s especially significant when taking the first shot of a place that you have seen a thousand times before on internet and prints. Like I did at my first visit is comparing the spot with your own expectations. It’s always bigger or smaller, harder or easier to reach, prettier or maybe not, and therefore less or more impressive. So depending on that, you can often read their thoughts and recognize their emotions.
4. What do you hope people take home from your trips, beyond photos? Is it awe, perspective, stillness, courage?
What I want people to take home is a deeper connection to the natural world. When you photograph a landscape up close, really spend time in it, you carry that respect forward. The photos become a reminder of why these places matter to protect and behold. I also hope people take home a shift in perspective. Remote landscapes have a way of inspiring awe, grounding you in stillness, and building quiet courage. The photographs are resembling the visual representations of that particular place and reflections of your creativity, but they’re most importantly vessels for what the place made you feel. Photography is all about emotion and it’s the art of the photographer to reflect that emotion onto others with their produced images.
IV. The Impact
1. After years of moving between deserts that burn and winters that silence everything, how have these extremes changed you not the photographer, but the man?
Years of moving between deserts that burn and winters that swallow sound have changed me more as a man than as a photographer. Those extremes taught me patience, humility and a kind of quiet strength. Together they softened parts of me and sharpened others. When you spend that much time in places that don’t care who you are, you learn to drop your ego and pay attention to what truly matters: presence, resilience, and gratitude for the simple things that life has to offer. You realize you’re small out there, but not insignificant. You’re part of something vast, and that shifts the way you move through the world.
2. Has solitude in these vast places altered the way you see yourself when you return to everyday life?
Solitude indeed resets everything. After time in these vast places, the noise of everyday life feels different. I notice what truly matters and what’s just clutter. Solitude strips things down, and when I come back, I carry that clarity with me. Solitude also changes the mirror you see yourself in. Out there, without roles or routines, you meet a more honest version of yourself. Coming back, I try to hold onto that perspective; the reminder that identity can be simpler, lighter, and less tied to noise. When you spend days with nothing but wind, light, and your own thoughts, you return as a quieter version of yourself. The small stresses don’t grip as tightly, and you move through the world with a bit more calm and intention.
3. Do you ever feel the landscapes you visit have taken something from you, or given something back?
At home I live in an apartment without any outside space, but for me the landscapes I often visit feel like my remote backyard. And that also means I treat them with respect; they offer me the space on earth I need to regenerate my inner self. Walking through untouched nature with nothing but my camera feels like meditation for me. It’s all about being out there by myself and looking for creative compositions while chasing the best light. It oddly feels kinda unique as resident of an overpopulated planet, and especially as a resident of a country with hardly any untouched nature left. But it isn’t unique if you’re attracted by raw nature and not hesitant to visit these remote places that our earth still has to offer, it just feels so as relatively not many people venture it. So the landscapes I’ve visited have definitely given a lot. But, they have also taken something away. After seeing so much beauty my eyes got a little spoiled. So it took away some innocence and lowered my motivation to shoot the more basic and standard landscapes closer to home.
4. What has become clearer to you about humanity after guiding people across terrains that demand respect and vulnerability?
Every place I visit has it’s own humanitarian background story. From the Inuit people in Greenland that have faced European settlers and now the USA that wants to annex them, to Socotra that belongs to war torn Yemen but is mostly under control of the UAE. But everywhere local people like to maintain their autonomy and implement laws for their own interest. Laws that unfortunately not always are in the best interest of visitors like me, like drone restrictions or limited opening hours of national parks. But I need to respect them as the last thing I want is to have trouble while in a foreign country. Also, when visiting third world countries you have been hearing and reading many warnings about safety. However, when you are actually out there and you show your respect and best intentions, people always give back such a lot of warmth and hospitality. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be cautious though, it just means people shouldn’t label and generalize too fast. It’s also sad to see how other visitors can treat a place, showing no or little cultural interest and respect for nature. For example tourists that are only seeking sun, selfies, luxury and joy. To be more specific, driving ATV’s in nature and waterscooters at vulnerable coral reefs, in other words, they only use nature as a playground. It became clear to me that the majority of people prefer those kind of trips, which is far from beneficial for the health of our planet.
5. When you look at your body of work from the early years to now, where do you see growth? Where do you see wounds?
Growth is very visible in the way I streamlined my workflow and signature over the years. When I started like 12 years ago I was basically a searching spirit; I loved taking pictures of almost everything during my travels. It took me like 4 years to discover that I wanted to focus solely on landscapes. But this is still very broad, so in the years that passed I learned what landscapes fit my style the most and the experience I gained pushed me more and more into the photographer I am today. A steady growth is also visible on the timeline of my social media; when scrolling rapidly from my oldest to my newest pictures you can gradually see the quality of the pictures going up. But I still wish to maintain this growth cause there are always ways to improve my images. About the wounds, looking back at the whole photography journey of my life so far, I immediately think of all those missed chances of taking better photos while at remote places you don’t easily come across again. Although I obviously acted according my competences I had at that time. But at some places restrictions got tighter, like strict drone restrictions, and other places just started to fall apart or disappear. Especially vulnerable photo spots that include trees are rapidly being degraded by the continuous stream of visitors, often at places that became famous due to social media. I somehow regret not taking more and better pictures at those spots while it was still allowed or while they were still unspoiled. But on the other hand, if I really wanted to protect those places I rather shouldn’t have visited them at all. It’s kind of a dilemma and food for thought.