Allan Andersen

I had planned to photograph the lunar eclipse this September from a hill near the church in Als, a location that usually offers a clear and elevated view above the coastline of the Kattegat. It is a place I often return to for my fine art photography, especially when working with minimal compositions and atmospheric light.

That evening, however, the conditions were far from ideal. Strong winds and low clouds covered the horizon, and for a long time, the moon was completely hidden. The full eclipse had already passed, and most people who had come to witness it had given up and left.

But I chose to stay.

Eventually, the moon broke through the clouds, and for a brief moment, part of it still carried the deep red tones from the eclipse. That was the moment I had been waiting for. I captured the image that would later become one of my most meaningful works.

For me, this image is not just about the moon itself, but about patience and persistence. It reflects an important part of my photographic process – the willingness to adapt when conditions are unpredictable, and to trust that something unique can still emerge.

Moments like this often lead to the most compelling images – photographs that carry both a visual presence and a story. That is also what I aim to bring into my work as fine art prints: a sense of atmosphere, rarity, and emotion that goes beyond the scene itself.

I naturally start by choosing the images that resonate most with me personally. Those are usually the ones I find myself returning to again and again without losing interest. That connection is important, as it often translates into images that also resonate with others.

At the same time, I value external feedback as a way to understand how my work is perceived. It helps me identify which images have a broader appeal, especially when selecting pieces that may work both in competitions and as fine art photography prints.

However, my own judgment always remains the deciding factor.

I also place strong emphasis on technical quality before submitting an image. The balance between composition, light, and detail needs to be exactly right. Finally, I carefully consider which category the image fits best in, as context plays a significant role in how the work is received.

In the end, I look for images that combine personal meaning, technical precision, and a visual presence strong enough to stand on their own – whether on a gallery wall or in a competition.

Quite simply, I wanted to.

I was drawn to the idea of being able to freeze a moment in time – to take something fleeting and make it lasting. That ability to preserve not just what something looked like, but how it felt, is what first inspired me to pick up a camera.

It is still at the core of my work today, especially in my approach to fine art photography, where each image is meant to hold a quiet moment that can be experienced again and again.

I am drawn to photography where the idea is clear and intentional. Whether it is a subject, a scene, or simply a mood, there needs to be a defined thought behind the image. What the photo shows is less important than what it expresses.

Equally important is the quality of light. It has to add something – to create depth, atmosphere, or tension. Without that, the image rarely holds the same presence.

I am especially interested in this kind of photography because it reveals something about the person behind the camera. When there is a clear intention, there is also a sense of personality. That is what makes an image feel authentic and lasting – something that can exist not just as a photograph, but as a piece of fine art on the wall.

I do not have a single go-to setup, as it always depends on what I want to photograph on a given day. I work with a Nikon D850, which consistently delivers the quality I need for my fine art photography.

I primarily use prime lenses, selected with intention before heading out. My range typically goes from 14mm up to 500mm, depending on the scene. The award-winning image was captured with a 500mm f/4 lens, but I often work across the full range, from wide and minimal to more compressed and distant compositions.

What matters most to me in a lens is its character. I am less interested in lenses that are clinically sharp and perfectly neutral. Instead, I am drawn to lenses that render light and colour with a certain depth – something closer to a film-like quality, especially in the highlights.

That subtle rendering plays an important role in how an image feels, and ultimately how it translates into a fine art print.

I aim to create images that balance calm and beauty, while still leaving room for curiosity and reflection.

More than anything, I want my work to convey a quiet story – a moment of stillness. A sense of stepping into nature without stress or urgency, even if only for a brief pause.

If someone looks at my work and feels just a little more grounded, a little more present, then the image has done what it was meant to do. That feeling is what I hope carries through into my photographs as fine art prints – something you can return to, again and again.

Definitely the wind. It was strong enough to shake the camera, which made it especially challenging while working with a 500mm lens.

At that focal length, even the slightest movement becomes critical, so maintaining sharpness required both patience and careful timing between the gusts.

At the same time, I had to balance the exposure between the moon and the clouds. The goal was to preserve the detail and colour in the sky without overexposing the moon, which required a precise balance in-camera.

It was a combination of technical control and adapting to the conditions – but those challenges are often what make the final image more rewarding, both visually and as a finished fine art print.

There is no doubt that I feel a strong connection to the sea and Mariager Fjord. In particular, a small place at the very end of the fjord called Als Odde has become a key location in my work.

The light there is often quite magical. Surrounded by the fjord on one side and the Kattegat on the other, it creates unique conditions where the landscape feels open and ever-changing. The shallow water means that on completely calm days, the surface turns into a mirror, reflecting the sky, the clouds, and the shifting light.

I also find great inspiration in Lille Vildmose, where the atmosphere is very different – more raw and untamed. The contrast between these locations allows me to explore both minimal compositions and more organic, natural scenes.

What draws me to these places is the combination of light, simplicity, and variation. Both wildlife and subtle man-made elements can become part of the composition, always shaped by the light. That is ultimately what inspires me the most and continues to define my work as fine art photography.

One of the earliest influences on my photography was a classic image by Ansel Adams. The way he brought a subject to life through light and shadow left a strong impression on me and sparked a deeper interest in what photography could be.

However, the greatest influence on my own work has come from Michael Freeman’s book The Photographer’s Eye. His approach to composition and visual thinking gave me the tools to better understand how to structure an image and, more importantly, how to develop my own way of seeing.

That shift – from simply observing to intentionally composing – has been essential in shaping my work. It continues to influence how I create images today, particularly in my pursuit of minimal, atmospheric photographs that translate into strong and timeless fine art prints.

I would advise photographers to give themselves time before entering competitions, allowing their own style to develop naturally rather than being shaped too early by external opinions.

At the same time, self-criticism is essential. Before submitting an image, it helps to ask a simple question: Would I vote for this photograph myself? That level of honesty often leads to stronger selections.

It is also important to choose competitions that align with the type of work you create. Looking at previous winners can give valuable insight into what is being recognised and rewarded.

In the end, I believe the strongest submissions come from a clear personal vision – images that feel intentional, refined, and capable of standing on their own, both in competition and as lasting fine art prints.

Quite simply, before you take a photo, think about what matters most in the scene – what you want to bring out – and then use all the tools available to achieve that. Shoot with intention, and practice that approach as often as you can.

I would also recommend spending time studying photography beyond the camera. Books that focus on ideas, visual language, and different approaches to seeing are especially valuable. Technical skills will come with time, but having a clear sense of what you want to express is what truly shapes your work.

In the end, photography becomes much stronger when it is guided by intention rather than technique alone.

It varies depending on the image, but I always shoot in RAW and aim to avoid overexposing, so I have the best possible foundation to work from.

In post-processing, I primarily use selective adjustments to guide the viewer’s attention and shape the light so it flows more naturally across the image. I generally avoid heavy colour manipulation, as I prefer a natural and timeless look. Achieving that natural feel often requires careful work to match the image to how I experienced the scene in the moment.

In my award-winning image, for example, I used exposure stacking to balance the brightness of the moon and the surrounding clouds. Understanding these techniques and when to use them expands your creative toolbox and allows for greater control over the final result.

Overall, I see editing as an extension of the creative process rather than a separate step. At the same time, I find that I rely less on heavy editing today than I did earlier on, as I aim to get as much as possible right in-camera.

It is a broad and evolving topic. For me, it does not fundamentally change my approach, as a large part of what I value in photography comes from the experience itself – being present in nature and engaging with the moment. That is something AI cannot replace.

When it comes to editing, however, AI is a useful tool. It can assist with tasks such as masking, refining selections, and removing small distractions, making the workflow both faster and more precise.

I see it as a way to support the process rather than define it. The creative decisions – what to capture, when to press the shutter, and how to shape the final image – remain the most important aspects of my work.

In that sense, technology can enhance efficiency, but the essence of photography, for me, will always be rooted in observation, timing, and intention.

That is a difficult question, as there is so much I would like to explore.

If I had to choose, it would be places defined by exceptional light. The far north of Norway is high on my list, as well as Iceland and New Zealand – landscapes where light and atmosphere can transform even the simplest scenes into something remarkable. Snowdonia in Wales is another place I would like to experience and photograph.

At the same time, I am drawn to the idea of returning to Palermo to explore street photography further. It offers a completely different kind of energy and visual storytelling compared to my usual work in nature.

In the end, what matters most to me is not a specific subject, but the presence of light and atmosphere. That is what continues to guide my work and what I am always searching for in my photography.