Lost to the sea

Norway is a seafaring nation. For centuries, the North Sea has been our gateway to the rest of the world — to trade, wealth and opportunity, but also to loss, grief and tragedy.

I was born by the sea. We used it for recreation, for travel, and for what it could provide.

I still vividly remember my first real storm at sea. I was nine or ten years old, alone in a small sailing dinghy, when I was caught by a sudden change in the weather. In my mind, it was a hurricane. In reality, it was probably little more than a heavy breeze.

For a moment, I panicked. Then I found that I could handle it.

And somewhere in the rain, the waves and the wind, I started to smile.

I still remember that feeling — exhilarating and humbling at the same time.

I have carried a deep respect for the sea ever since. For its beauty and its power. For those who make their living from it. And for those who never came home.

In these photographs, I explore that relationship. The things we build for the sea. The things the sea shapes, changes and leaves behind. Old wrecks make me wonder about the lives they once lived and the journeys they made. A shoreline can carry traces of forces working over centuries.

And beyond it all is the horizon — and the question of what lies on the other side.