Stian Klo’s working method begins with light. In the Arctic, where light can be extreme, fleeting, or absent, he reacts first to its presence or lack and then searches for a composition capable of carrying the feeling of the scene. He tries to minimize the number of elements in the frame, often using cold foreground shadows to lead toward a contrasting background or main subject.

This reduction is central to his process. Although the finished images may appear simple, he emphasizes that they are the result of considerable thought. He works slowly, often waiting for the elements to align in support of the composition, and when a scene truly speaks to him, he becomes relentless. In Greenland, for example, he directs boat captains around specific icebergs, returning repeatedly and watching how light and movement reshape the composition before deciding he has done his best.

Projects usually emerge gradually. He often arrives at a destination with what he describes as a blank canvas, allowing a series or idea to form along the way. Many of his strongest bodies of work developed through repeated visits, especially in Greenland, where familiarity allowed him to begin seeing not isolated photographs but cohesive series.

He works best when he can remain within his own pace and mental space. That freedom is essential to how he photographs, and to the intimacy he now seeks in the work.

Stian Klo’s conversation reveals a photographer for whom image-making is inseparable from inner balance. Readers learn that photography began as a creative refuge and gradually became both profession and personal therapy. That emotional grounding is essential to understanding the work, because his photographs are presented not as neutral records but as attempts to translate what he senses and feels in the field.

One of the most compelling ideas in the interview is his move away from standardized landscape photography toward a more intimate and minimal approach. He explains this transition with unusual candor, linking it to mental health, burnout, artistic confidence, and the need to evolve. The conversation makes clear that this shift was not about fashion or trend, but about surviving creatively and staying honest with himself.

The interview also offers concrete insight into how he works: his sensitivity to light, his insistence on simplifying the frame, his long-term project thinking, and his willingness to wait until a scene fully aligns with what he felt. What emerges is a portrait of a photographer whose art is grounded equally in Arctic experience and in personal transformation.

Stian Klo belongs in Voice of the Eyes because his work shows how landscape photography can become both a visual discipline and a form of inner calibration. His images are deeply tied to Arctic nature, yet what makes them memorable is the way they carry patience, restraint, and personal conviction rather than mere scenic grandeur.

His perspective strengthens the publication because he articulates a journey that many photographers experience but few describe so clearly: the movement from externally validated image-making toward a more intimate, self-directed practice. He speaks openly about change, mental health, artistic freedom, and the importance of creating work that reflects one’s inner self rather than public expectation.

That honesty matters. It gives the photographs greater weight and situates them within a larger conversation about what contemporary nature photography can be. Stian Klo contributes not only striking Arctic imagery, but also a thoughtful account of how an artist learns to trust his own pace, his own eye, and his own reason for making pictures.