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Palm Shadows
2019-2024
This series marks the beginning of my journey into still photography.
From 2019 to 2024, I spent long periods working in Mexico.
I wasn’t based there permanently, but I returned for extended stretches each year as part of various productions.
Over time, something began to shift in how I related to the places I visited. The making of moving images,
which had been my language for years, suddenly felt too fast, too planned. There were moments in Mexico—sudden, subtle, unscripted—
that felt complete on their own. They didn’t need editing or a storyline. They just needed to be seen.
That realization led me to buy my first real camera, the Fuji XT-2.
I didn’t set out with a project in mind.
I simply wanted to hold onto the images that stayed with me.
What started as instinct became a practice,
and eventually a direction. Mexico gave me a new way of seeing.
The contrast between its coastlines and jungles,
its cities and silence, its sunlit haze and deep shadows,
offered something very different from the landscapes I grew up with in Sweden. Every time I returned,
I brought the camera with me, and every time it felt like stepping into something alive and unrepeatable.
These photographs are drawn from those returns. They are not a complete map of Mexico, nor a linear story.
Instead, they are fragments from a personal shift.
A visual notebook from the years when I began to understand that photography is also a way of being present.
Some of these images come from unexpected moments, others from days spent wandering without direction.
All of them are part of a process that continues to shape how I work and how I see.
Looking back, I recognize this as my genesis series.
The place where stillness first spoke to me clearly.
Where I learned to trust the frame instead of the cut.
Where I discovered that sometimes,
a single image can say more than an entire sequence.
This work is made of returns to places,
to light,
and to memory.
From 2019 to 2024, I spent long periods working in Mexico.
I wasn’t based there permanently, but I returned for extended stretches each year as part of various productions.
Over time, something began to shift in how I related to the places I visited. The making of moving images,
which had been my language for years, suddenly felt too fast, too planned. There were moments in Mexico—sudden, subtle, unscripted—
that felt complete on their own. They didn’t need editing or a storyline. They just needed to be seen.
That realization led me to buy my first real camera, the Fuji XT-2.
I didn’t set out with a project in mind.
I simply wanted to hold onto the images that stayed with me.
What started as instinct became a practice,
and eventually a direction. Mexico gave me a new way of seeing.
The contrast between its coastlines and jungles,
its cities and silence, its sunlit haze and deep shadows,
offered something very different from the landscapes I grew up with in Sweden. Every time I returned,
I brought the camera with me, and every time it felt like stepping into something alive and unrepeatable.
These photographs are drawn from those returns. They are not a complete map of Mexico, nor a linear story.
Instead, they are fragments from a personal shift.
A visual notebook from the years when I began to understand that photography is also a way of being present.
Some of these images come from unexpected moments, others from days spent wandering without direction.
All of them are part of a process that continues to shape how I work and how I see.
Looking back, I recognize this as my genesis series.
The place where stillness first spoke to me clearly.
Where I learned to trust the frame instead of the cut.
Where I discovered that sometimes,
a single image can say more than an entire sequence.
This work is made of returns to places,
to light,
and to memory.
“There is no forgetting, but remembering takes a long time.”
- W. S. Merwin (from The Nomad Flute)