For me as a photographer, travel is essential to keeping my mind in a state of exploration. Because my brain doesn’t know the surroundings and the memories of a new place don’t exist yet, every flick of the eye is a new impression which makes me feel open and very much alive. Coming home is a vital part of the experience of traveling, and one most people don’t think too much about. When you arrive home you begin the process of sorting through your expressions. Sometimes coming home can be the “peak” of the trip. Your common world suddenly has an exploratory mind observing it in new ways.
In February, I found myself in Russia on a train back to Sweden. Coronavirus was on the verge of becoming a worldwide pandemic and soon my tight traveling schedule would be as blank as a toddler’s. Sure, I was bummed, but I saw the bigger picture and felt alright going home. A few months later I found myself on top of a peak at Riksgränsen, my home mountain, and the closing place of every other season in my 25 years of skiing. I have always loved Riksgränsen for its long season, for the never-ending golden light and slushy summer vibes. But after that quarantine loomed. I had to think about all my privilege to be one of the very few people in the world able to ski at all “right now.” And how I could stand here studying beauty once again.