It has been a while. This spring has been fairly tame for me when it came to photography. I had good intentions. I wanted to explore new places in my country and work with species I’ve not been able to photograph too frequently. But most of all, I wanted to get out of my rut. That is, my comfort zone. You see, I quite like a certain style of photography. Conditions like even clouds, perhaps some soft light. Fairly minimalistic frames with breathing room for usually only one sharp subject, placed on one of the intersections of the rule of thirds, fifths, and the golden ratio. I’ve been chasing those frames for quite some time, and it is therefore not surprising that I’ve felt like my photography hasn’t been improving.

Enter this spring. I left for Spain with my best intentions. To go out there and get not only portraits of some different birds, but also work on the aspects of photography where there’s still a lot for me to gain: atmosphere, dramatic light, and storytelling. For several reasons, including unethical spotting, heat haze, poor angles, harsh light, and some personal stuff, I came home without satisfactory frames; either technically or emotionally.

I had another trip coming up, but first, I needed to recover and set my mind straight. Questions such as “Is wildlife photography ever ethical?” and “Why spend so much time, money, and effort on these trips if this can be the result?” came to my mind. Dramatic, yes, but to a lesser extent, relevant and necessary for me to focus on why I do this in the first place: sharing my appreciation for birds and their environments, and promoting the ethical way of going about this hobby.

I was not fully convinced about that last sentence when I left for Oslo. After three days solo-ing there, I took a plane to the Arctic, to Kirkenes, to go on my second group photography trip to the Varanger peninsula. Come June, it is a brilliant place for both birding and photography, and I felt both excited and nervous. “What if we just disturb wildlife?”, and “What if I don’t come back with anything different and ethical?”, but also “Might this be the place to push my photography?”.

Varanger delivered. And two weeks after the trip, I made my conclusions. We focused on accessible and approachable wildlife, and even though disturbance is inevitable, we kept it to a minimum. We had some spectacular midnight sunlight, with plenty of birds about. I accepted that image quality wasn’t ideal and rather focused on capturing the sweet Arctic wildlife in their character, environment, and light, and ended up with a diverse set of images in all sorts of styles, lighting, and mood.

Truth be told, the resulting gallery, Summer in Varanger, makes me uncomfortable. Compared to my previous Arctic adventure, it lacks cohesion, consistency, and the feeling that it represents who I am as a photographer. But that discomfort is step one to becoming a better photographer. I’m sure it’ll grow on me.

I hope you take the time to check out the gallery, and I hope you have an easier time exploring what photography means to you and how you can navigate pushing your limits.