#87. Norway: Living Within the Healing Landscape

Everyday Rhythm in Ski

For two years we lived in Ski, a small town just south of Oslo. It was here that daily life gradually shifted into a different rhythm, one shaped less by urgency and more by the turning of the seasons, the changing weather and the quiet presence of nature that was always close by, even in the midst of ordinary routines and city life.

Now, three months after returning, I still notice a quiet and persistent sense of heimwee. It is a longing for a landscape that did not only appear on weekend trips into nature, but one that slowly settled under my skin and became part of how I experience the world.

Thirteen Thousand Moments of Presence

At the moment I am moving through an archive of more than thirteen thousand photographs taken during those years. Working through these images feels like retracing a life lived in close contact with the landscape, from the forests and lakes around Valdres and Hamar, to the deep waters of Geiranger, and all the way to the dramatic peaks of Lofoten and the Arctic stillness of Alta and Tromsø.

As I spend time with these photographs, I realise more and more that I was never only photographing landscapes. I was learning how to be present within them. Living in Norway changed my understanding of healing nature photography because I began to understand that healing is not only found in rare or dramatic moments, but often in what is already quietly there.

It lives in soft morning light on stone, fog moving slowly through pine forests, the steady rhythm of waves along the coast, or snow settling without sound. Nature does not force us to slow down. It simply reveals a rhythm that was already there.

Belonging in the Nordic Landscape

If Antarctica taught me the power of silence and awe, Norway taught me something more grounded and lasting, something like belonging. Over time my camera became less of a tool to capture nature from the outside, and more a way of recognising an internal connection. The landscape slowly stopped feeling like a place I was visiting and became a space I was living within.

Over the coming months I will return to this archive, just as I did with my Antarctic work, to gradually shape these two years into a new collection. Together with my photo coach Diana Bokje I will be selecting images that reflect this quiet presence and the healing rhythm of the North.

Does a place ever stay more alive in your memory than it is in your present life?