“It just feels so good to not be in this world sometimes,” Tonje Thilesen tells me. It sounds dramatic, but they are right. We exist in a time of not one but multiple interconnected crises – it’s a lot to hold. One of those disasters has been front of mind for the Brooklyn-based photographer for decades. “I began reading up about climate change when I was very young and was already so depressed and scared for the future. I felt an urgent need to spend as much time in nature as possible before it changed.” Thilesen’s work is an urgent form of picture-making – simultaneously a salve in the face of looming disaster and a vital drive to honour and archive what could be lost forever.

Born and raised in Oslo, a strong relationship with the outdoors was an integral part of Norwegian life for Thilesen. As a teen, they spent time photographing insects, amphibians, and the surrounding environment born out of a deep curiosity with macrobiology. “I’ve always been drawn to quiet places,” says Thilesen. “Sound is a big part of it. There’s so much going on in ­silence. There is so much ­nuance in natural sounds, and even though it can be so quiet, it’s ­never actually quiet. It allows for this meditative state.” This sense of reflective stillness is a through line in their work, quietly illuminating details that often go unseen.