People Say More When They’re Silent
I didn’t grow up in a world that made sense. What I grew up around were contradictions, tension, survival, and people hiding more than they showed. Long before I understood photography, I learned to read faces. It wasn’t a choice; it was how I understood what was happening around me.
Drawing became an early escape, a way to slow things down and make sense of what I couldn’t express in words. Years later, when I borrowed a Leica M6, I realised I wasn’t drawn to streets or scenes but to people. Not idealised figures, but real characters.
What drives my work is human behaviour, the complexity people carry, and what reveals itself in the instant their guard lowers. I recognise the same fascination in the films of the Coen brothers, whose characters often embody contradiction, fragility, and quiet intensity. I photograph with that same curiosity.
As an underdog armed with a Leica M11, shooting the streets feels like engaging in a bullfight. Using a flash up close and invading people’s personal space, often sets people on edge.
Into Their World
What draws me to street photography isn’t beauty. It’s proximity. I’m drawn to people most others walk past, the ones who keep their history close. I stay long enough to notice what comes through when there is nowhere else to be. It doesn’t start with empathy. It starts with being present. Close enough to sense what slips out when the act fades. For a moment, imagining the weight they carry without pretending to share it.
Each portrait exists in the space between what someone allows and what remains beneath it. The camera matters when it holds that second still. Being close isn’t comfortable. It isn’t meant to be.
From the Ukraine Project
This image is part of a wider photographic art project documenting the atmosphere of Odesa, Ukraine, and the lives of people living on the edge of society during the war.
Instinct, Light, and
the Human Face
Inspired by the tradition of street photography, I work instinctively with a handheld flash and a wide lens to isolate the human face within a chaotic world.
Vidar Korneliussen, AKA Tyheim
Kherson, Ukraine - November 2025
NPPA
Member of the U.S. National Press Photographers Association (NPPA)
Q + A
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Weegee.
What draws me to Weegee is his refusal to look away. His pictures weren’t about the chaos of the scene; sirens, bodies, headlines. They were about the people caught inside it, the mask slipping, the truth leaking out.He shot humanity at its most exposed: the shock frozen on a face lit by police lights, the numb stare of someone who has already seen too much, the split second when a person forgets to act like who they think they are. He didn’t chase beauty or sentiment. He hunted the unguarded moment, the raw honesty that shows itself only when life pushes too hard to hide.
That’s what drives me. On the street I’m looking for the same fracture, the unfiltered expression, the brief reveal of who someone really is before the world snaps back into place.
Photographers whose work I truly love and find deeply inspiring include:
Mark Cohen -
Yes, working at close range often leads to challenges, but I believe it’s necessary. Expression is the core of my photography, and the level of intimacy I aim for often requires stepping directly into someone's personal space. That closeness can unsettle people.
I remember photographing an underworld figure in a charged moment. His face shifted, his eyes went dark, and for a split second I believed he might react violently. I was aware he was armed. It isn’t unusual for me to encounter resistance from the people I photograph.
In moments like that, I stay calm and make my intentions clear from the outset. I approach them as an artist, not as someone collecting information or working on behalf of anyone else. That distinction often shifts the atmosphere and opens a space for trust. I speak with respect, explain why I want to make their portrait, and remain grounded in the purpose of the work. Respecting the person in front of the camera is essential, especially when dealing with those living on the edge.
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I often find myself alone, photographing people on the fringes of society, those living in unstable or volatile circumstances. These situations can quickly turn unpredictable. Some of the people I meet may be armed or involved in criminal environments. But I’ve learned how to read people with precision.
That ability has its roots in my childhood. I grew up around unpredictable personalities, and over time I developed a natural instinct for sensing shifts in mood, intention, and energy. It’s not about being fearless. It’s about being aware and respectful. I know when and how to speak, when to listen, and when to step back. In the end, I often manage to connect with those others struggle to approach.
That awareness has helped me defuse tension, avoid escalation, and walk away from encounters that could have gone very differently. It’s a survival skill, but also a key part of what allows me to get close and create honest work.