Looking back at the year 2025
This year didn’t arrive with fireworks.
It arrived slowly. In decisions. In doubts. In gear sold, and few bought. In walks that felt pointless until they suddenly weren’t.
Somewhere along the way, photography stopped being about output and started being about direction.
I sold gear I once believed defined me. Cameras I loved, cameras I defended, cameras that felt like extensions of my identity at the time. Letting them go wasn’t easy, but it was necessary. Not because digital failed me, but because I needed to relearn restraint. I needed friction again.
Film gave me that.
Analog photography forced me to slow down in a way nothing else has. Every roll became a commitment. Every frame carried weight. No safety net. No “I’ll fix it later.” Just decisions, right there in the street, with consequences waiting quietly in the lab.
That mindset didn’t stay in analog either. It followed me everywhere. Into digital shoots. Into editing. Into how I think about images overall.
Photobreak grew out of that shift.
What started as walks, conversations, and shared frustration with noise and algorithms slowly became something real. A platform, yes, but more importantly a philosophy. Stop. Look. Pay attention. Photography as observation, not performance.
And I can’t talk about Photobreak without talking about Kim.
Kim from Photobreak.net
Working with Kim this year has been one of the most grounding creative experiences I’ve had. Not just as collaborators, but as friends. We challenge each other in different ways. He simplifies. I overthink. Somewhere in between, things start to make sense. Photobreak became our shared space. A place where photography feels less competitive and more curious again.
Another big step this year was teaming up with Stavanger Foto. That collaboration meant a lot. Not just professionally, but personally. Being trusted, supported, and taken seriously by people who genuinely care about photography gave Photobreak a different kind of legitimacy. It felt like a quiet nod saying: keep going, you’re onto something.
Then came the deep dive into scanning and printing.
Buying the Valoi system opened an entirely new chapter. Suddenly photography didn’t end at the shutter. It continued at home, late at night, learning curves everywhere. Scanning film properly is humbling. You think you understand your negatives until you really don’t. Color balance, dust, contrast, profiles. I’m still learning. Printing too. Paper choices, failed test prints, colors that don’t match what’s in your head yet. Still learning. Probably always learning.
At the same time, life didn’t pause.
I’ve been working with TV productions throughout all of this. Deadlines, long days, precision work. A completely different rhythm. But strangely enough, the analog mindset has helped there, too. More intention. Less noise. Better decisions under pressure.
And as if that wasn’t enough, I started investing in something I’ve quietly wanted to improve for a long time: drawing. Online classes. Fundamentals. Perspective. Observation. Learning to see with my hands again. It feeds directly back into photography, composition, storytelling. Everything is connected when you let it be.
Looking back, this year wasn’t about one big achievement. It was about alignment.
Selling gear to buy film cameras.
Building Photobreak piece by piece.
Learning scanning, learning printing.
Collaborating with Stavanger Foto.
Working in TV and learning new ways to be creative.
Drawing again, slowly, imperfectly.
Walking a lot. Talking a lot. Thinking less.
Most of all, it was about friendship. About having someone next to you who understands why you stop in the middle of the street, why you wait for nothing to happen, why a photograph sometimes matters more than it should.
I’m closing this year tired in the right way.
Grateful in a quiet way.
And confident in a direction that finally feels honest.
Next year isn’t about scaling faster.
It’s about going deeper.
Photobreak continues.
We keep walking.
Frame by frame.
