In a world dominated by algorithms, trends, and constant noise, Krogh has spent his career doing the opposite — building a creative identity rooted in instinct, emotion, and complete artistic freedom. In this edition of Beyond The Stage, he reflects on photography, creativity, burnout, celebrity culture, and why originality matters more than ever for creators today.
"Creativity isn’t a job. It’s survival." -Tarjei Krogh
You work across photography, art, and music now. Looking back, when did you first realize creativity would become your life rather than just a hobby?
I grew up surrounded by creative people. One of the kids in my kindergarten was Joachim Trier, who recently won an Oscar, and another was Espen Eckbo, who today is one of Norway’s biggest comedians.
Espen and I started creating things extremely early. We made radio plays using tape recorders and wrote absurd little stories together. When we were around ten years old, Espen received an insanely expensive video camera from a relative. It was primitive compared to today — no batteries, no cassette slot in the camera itself. We had to drag around a huge VCR connected with long extension cords just to film scenes outside in the garden of his family’s villa in Ullern.
One day, I asked him what he wanted to become when he grew up.
He said: “A clown.”
I answered: “A cameraman.”
And somehow, that’s exactly what happened.
We kept filming, experimenting and building our own little creative school. I originally wanted to make movies, but I realized filmmaking involved too many people and too little spontaneity. Photography became my thing because it allowed complete freedom.
My mother was an artist and taught me composition and visual thinking. My father was a cybernetic engineer and introduced me to computers, mathematics and early technology. That strange combination of art and systems shaped the way I see images today.
During my teenage years and twenties, music became a major part of my life. But when digital cameras and computers finally evolved enough to merge visual art with technology, everything clicked. That was the moment I understood what I really wanted to create:
A combination of photography, art, music, and emotion.
From DIY Cameras to Major Clients
Your camera skills were entirely self-taught. How did you go from experimenting with cameras to suddenly working with major clients and public figures?
I started with a truly terrible digital camera in the late 90s. It didn’t even have one megapixel. The image quality was probably worse than a webcam today, but I spent years obsessively training myself.
At the time, I worked in Norway’s biggest vinyl record store, photographing friends, musicians, and customers. In 2000, I bought a small Fuji pocket camera for around 12,000 NOK. It wasn’t a professional camera at all, but I made it work.
I photographed bands, strangers in the streets, animals, and random moments around Oslo. Every night, I edited photos and uploaded them online. I never cared much about technical perfection. I focused on situations, atmosphere, timing, and emotion.
I approached photography more like an artist than a traditional photographer.
Eventually, someone from Orkla/Lilleborg, one of Norway’s largest companies, discovered my work online and hired me to create artistic installations using everyday household products like toothpaste, detergent, and dish soap.
It was incredibly difficult, but they loved the results and kept giving me more work. Looking back, I realize humor in photography is actually one of the hardest things to pull off.
At that point, I barely owned any proper equipment. I borrowed a Nikon camera from a friend.
Another major turning point came through the rap collective Pass It. I became friends with some of the artists, brought my camera everywhere, and photographed constantly without asking permission. They opened doors into places I never would’ve entered otherwise.
Five years later, I started working with Espen Eckbo again through television productions, celebrity shoots, and film sets. Things escalated naturally from there.
Building a Style by Ignoring the Rules
You often say your career felt like “falling through life.” Did ignoring traditional rules help you develop your own artistic voice?
Both.
Ignoring rules absolutely makes life harder. Going your own way and refusing to follow established systems creates chaos. I didn’t even read camera manuals. I wanted to develop my own approach rather than copying others.
That process creates more mistakes, but mistakes are where real discoveries happen.
When things go wrong, and you somehow solve them anyway, that knowledge burns itself permanently into your brain. Sometimes those accidents become the best work you’ve ever made.
I often say:
“The customer is never right.”
And:
“Don’t steal like an artist. Don’t fake it till you make it.”
Most people say the opposite, but I think too many creatives spend their lives trying to imitate success instead of developing something unique.
No matter what assignment I’m working on, I always need to create at least a few images I personally love, regardless of the client’s expectations.
I once stopped an entire Santander campaign shoot with fifteen people just because I wanted to photograph a beautiful cat that wandered into the scene.
I never let clients completely control me. Freedom creates better work.
Planning too much also kills creativity. I prefer knowing as little as possible before a shoot. The uncertainty keeps me alert.
If you’re truly dedicated, you can create strong images almost anywhere.
Creativity Without Borders
You work across photography, art, music, and speaking. How do those worlds influence each other?
Honestly, I’m terrible at most normal things in life.
I can’t cook. I can’t build things straight. I don’t drive. I know nothing about accounting, politics, or traditional “adult life.”
But creativity runs through everything I do.
Photography, music, writing, film, and visual art constantly feed each other. Being able to move between those worlds keeps me from getting bored.
I also think I’m inspired far more by musicians, actors, athletes and artists than by photographers.
Photographers often become obsessed with equipment.
To me, equipment is irrelevant.
What matters is emotion, rhythm, contrast and human connection.
I’ve photographed hundreds of Norwegian celebrities, but I never try to impress them or become friends with them. I treat them like normal people. I think they appreciate that.
Most of my photographs happen almost instantly. I rarely plan poses or setups.
In 95% of cases the image happens within seconds.
Finding a Visual Language
Your work has a very recognizable mood and visual identity. How long did it take to find your style?
Honestly, it happened almost immediately.
When I got that little 3-megapixel camera in 2000, my goal was to push distortion, heavy contrast, and raw atmosphere as far as possible.
Many photographers hated it.
Others secretly became inspired by it.
Photography is mathematics. If the composition is perfect and unnecessary elements disappear, the image becomes impossible to ignore.
I pushed contrast so hard my images almost became graphic art.
If traditional photographers were Eric Clapton, I wanted to be Sonic Youth, Pixies, Kyuss, Laibach, or Throbbing Gristle.
I wanted distortion.
Chaos.
Noise.
Even now, I still approach images that way.
People often say they can instantly recognize one of my photographs, and I think that comes from committing completely to a personal visual language.
I love introducing people to emotional worlds they might never enter through music alone.
Someone who would never listen to Godflesh or Skinny Puppy might still feel that atmosphere through one of my photographs.
A song takes three minutes.
A photograph takes one second.
Yes or no.
Fortunately, there have been many yeses.
Surviving the Industry
The creative industry is unpredictable and exhausting. What does it actually take to survive as an artist today?
In 2022, I completely crashed.
Undiagnosed ADHD, combined with difficult childhood experiences, eventually caught up with me.
There were days when I could barely function, lying at home overwhelmed, while later that same evening, I was expected to photograph major politicians, celebrities, or some of Norway’s biggest social media personalities.
But inside the camera, I’m never afraid.
Once the shoot begins, everything becomes mathematics.
The person in front of the camera never intimidates me.
I’m actually optimistic now because I feel like I’ve finally gotten rid of years of anxiety and internal stress.
I love uncertainty.
I love high risk.
Being outside my comfort zone is exactly what keeps me inspired.
And I know one thing:
I’m my own harshest critic.
If I’m finally satisfied with something, then I know the work is strong.
A day without creating feels unbearable to me.
Creativity isn’t a job. It’s survival.
The Problem With Creative Education
You skipped traditional education entirely. Do younger artists rely too much on formal degrees instead of simply creating?
I created my own school.
For four years, I walked outside to photograph during the day and edited images every night.
My mother brutally criticized my work constantly, which was probably the best education I could’ve received.
Awards and competitions honestly mean very little to me.
I never entered them.
Ironically, Olympus once secretly entered me into a photography competition in Germany without telling me.
I arrived in a town called Zingst, drank half a bottle of liquor, got on a bicycle with headphones on, and photographed everything I saw.
Apparently, every participant had received a strict assignment.
I ignored all of it because I didn’t know.
I just did what I always do.
I won the competition.
Suddenly, my work ended up displayed internationally, on giant billboards and at major photography festivals.
It all felt surreal.
But the lesson remains the same:
Find what you truly love.
Create your own language.
"Scrolling endlessly on a phone is not a real connection. " It only creates the illusion of it. — Tarjei Krogh
Algorithms, Attention and Community
Community matters more than ever today. How has networking changed compared to when you started?
In the early days, receiving an email felt exciting.
The internet was slower, smaller and more personal.
Today, there’s simply too much noise.
Algorithms reward outrage, distraction, fitness culture, gossip and endless stimulation.
That means artists now need to combine multiple forms of creativity, image, sound, video, and writing just to break through.
Years ago, people distrusted multi-talented artists.
Now it’s almost necessary.
My advice is simple:
Combine two or three things you genuinely love.
Post consistently.
Experiment.
Be yourself.
And if you’re only doing something because it’s trendy, stop immediately.
Ironically, I also think people are becoming exhausted by digital life.
In the future, real human interaction will become valuable again.
Scrolling endlessly on a phone is not a real connection.
It only creates the illusion of it.
Why Some Artists Fade Away
Some artists evolve forever while others eventually disappear. What separates them?
Don’t work just to stay busy.
Creativity should feel like oxygen.
Like food.
Like love.
I’ve turned down jobs involving real estate photography, pornography, product advertising, teaching, and even war photography.
Why would I spend my life doing things I don’t care about?
This industry is unstable enough already.
I only want to create work that I either:
- love
- excel at
- or find extremely challenging
Photography has genres just like music.
I don’t particularly like blues music.
So why would I spend my life creating the visual equivalent of it?
I’d rather find the people who love noise, indie, electronic music or experimentation.
Final Advice to Young Creators
Finally, if you could give one brutally honest piece of advice to young artists trying to build a creative career today, what would it be?
Be kind to people.
You have no idea what others are carrying.
You don’t need to agree with everyone, but treat people with dignity.
Don’t be afraid of anyone.
Don’t worship anyone either.
We are all human beings.
Some successful people are genuinely kind.
Others become successful by stepping on everyone around them.
Never become the second type.
Life is about creating something meaningful both for yourself and for other people.
If one of those parts disappears, life loses its meaning.
"If your work looks like everyone else’s, you become replaceable." -Tarjei Krogh
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