I was born in Iceland in 1971 and have been here ever since. As a teenager I already had a camera in hand and my teenage memories include dark rooms of all sorts, with or without company. Although I had a passion for the outdoors the thought of making a living from nature photography seemed a distant one until I discovered the concept of dharma. I started calling myself a nature photographer in my late twenties. Nature photographers are a tribe of hardy souls that seem to endure enormous amount of pain and boredom. Our idea of fun is sitting motionless in a hide for hours and days or carrying too much gear for far too long. As I’m a nature photographer I also need to work for a living. So since 2004 I’ve been organizing and guiding photography workshops in Iceland. If you haven’t participated in one you should come. They’re fun, I’m fun and Iceland is fantastic (sales pitch ends). I also work as a writer, editor and graphic designer so that I actually get to see some of my work published. I’ve authored four books on Iceland’s nature and there will be more coming out soon. I enjoy making books, love holding them in my hands and still don’t have an iPad.
My first “real” camera was a Canon F-1 and as I’m a creature of habit I’ve been using Canon ever since. I’ve become a fan of Zeiss lenses on my Canons as they’re redicilously sharp and beautiful tools. Although I’m as much of a “gearhead” as any photographer I prefer the more subtle philosophical side of our artform than the technical one. No one I know has written better books on the subject than David Ward. His Landscape Within and Landscape Beyond should be required reading for all serious landscape photographers.
I was invited to participate in the incredible Wild Wonders of Europe project and was sent on a mission to Turkey to photograph birds of prey. While I was there I learned that people with big white lenses are not welcome in military areas and that your credit cards will stop working if you’re country’s banks crash overnight, as happened in October 2008. The following year I photographed Gyrfalcons in northern Iceland for the WWE project, something that was within my comfort zone. My work with the Gyrfalcons has continued and will be published as a book in 2012.
The following text, which includes some thoughts about my country and photography, is an excerpt from Iceland Landscapes, which was published in June 2011:
Iceland’s nature is remarkable. Probably nowhere else on the planet is there such a diversity of geological features in such a small area. It’s a young land in geological terms and its vibrant energy can be clearly felt. We are regularly reminded, with earthquakes and volcanic eruptions, that this is a landscape in the making. By living here one learns to respect the forces of nature. When travelling in the mountains a sunny day can be transformed into a blizzard within a matter of minutes. A glacial river that is just a stream in the morning can grow so enormously during a warm summer day that it’s impassable in the afternoon. Travelling in Iceland, especially in the highlands, requires awareness and preparation. But at least you are very unlikely to get lost in the woods. In fact what I love about the Icelandic landscape is how vast and open it is, and even in the most desolate places there is immense beauty and a very powerful spiritual presence. It is this that inspires me to be out in the wilderness, and while many of my most powerful nature experiences have involved contact with wild creatures, some are simply about emotions associated with walking in the wilds, or just from sitting and taking in the beauty of a certain place. Quite often the simple act of just being in the wilderness with a still mind is the most rewarding experience. Such moments come to me while the camera is still packed away. Once it’s out a different kind of meditation begins – the intuitive process of photography. When I arrive at a location, and start wandering, I respond with intuition to what’s around me; light, form, shape and flow capture my attention. I also feel I need to emotionally connect to a landscape in order to photograph it successfully and such connection often only comes with repeated visits.