“Your pictures look so real.

There is something raw and authentic about them.

Like they’re not posed or arranged.”

I often get compliments along those lines — the truth is, they aren’t posed. I document real play — often with people I barely know. It’s edge play — but rewarding.

Photography has always been a big part of my life. As a teenager in Stockholm in the 1990s, we did something every year called Practical Work Life Orientation — or PRAO, as we say in Swedish. I spent that time with a close family friend who was a professional photographer working with museums to digitally document paintings. Each Klint, Munch, and Zorn was photographed on analogue film, then scanned and saved onto a 700-megabyte compact disc: one painting, one photo per disc.

Teenage me tagged along. I had my own camera and a shooting logbook, recording every frame I shot, the settings I used, why I chose them, and later analyzing the results after developing the film in the darkroom. Before we ever photographed museum art, he told me about his background as a news photographer. He explained that a good photographer would arrive at a press event, shoot three frames — one close-up, one full-body shot, and one environmental shot — and then run back to the newsroom to develop the film immediately.

He also gave me my first analogue Canon. Over the years, that grew into a professional Canon setup. I started with a 70–200mm zoom lens, mostly shooting concerts and fashion. Then I moved to a fixed 85mm for portraits of friends and family. Slowly, I crept closer — 50mm, then 35mm. And now, thirty years later, what I photograph is my own kink — on a 28mm monochrome Leica. The things that turn me on while relating to another human. Back when I almost became a professional photographer, I had a full professional system — heavy lenses, flashes, floodlights. I watched the world through the lens of my camera.

It was never about me.

Kink was similar in some ways. I was skilled at rope suspensions, guiding endorphin journeys, orchestrating orgasms — shaping other people’s experiences, in other words. As I got older, my kink became much more about me — about what turns me on within a power dynamic. That is what I photograph now.

I replaced my workhorse professional camera with a terribly expensive boutique one. The old one could do everything; this one does only one thing: it takes intimate pictures. Every frame — close. Every frame — personal.

I should probably mention, at this point, that I’m not a swinger or a lifestyler — though I sometimes wish I were. I almost never have sex with strangers; in fact, I think I’ve had just one one-night stand in my forty-plus years.

But there must be an attraction — an erotic or sadistic charge that runs between me and the person in front of my camera. Aesthetics are insanely important to me, but they’re not enough. I need vulnerability. Safe enough to be brave, I often say. Of course, it’s always welcome to communicate boundaries beforehand or as we go, but if those boundaries block the attraction, I won’t shoot you. I document my own desire, and I’m only interested in what feels real.

So how do I know if there will be attraction? Sometimes a coffee beforehand helps. But often, I can judge by how someone presents themselves — in pictures, videos, and words. What is shared, and how it’s shared. Just like I try to make my online persona as honest and obvious as possible.

Similarly, there needs to be some attraction in return — either to the idea, the research, the project, or the play. If the primary motivation is simply to have the pictures at the end, it’s unlikely to be a good match. To be honest, I can’t promise any pictures at all, because I need to feel comfortable enough to expose my kink. But don’t worry too much — I’ve done this a lot, and almost always, there have been something meaningful in the end.

If you’re intrigued by my photography, I sell exclusive, limited prints in my online store.

And finally, if anyone want to shoot with me? Then don’t hesitate to send a message.

But there is one more caveat: As I work professionally as a teacher and dom, I can’t shoot anyone who’s my student or client, because that would simply be very unprofessional. There are enough complicated power dynamics to navigate as it is.