A broken tooth, a drowned phone, and still the most powerful session I’ve had in a long time

Chapter One: The Shoot That Almost Brought Me to Tears

I almost had tears in my eyes.
And not just because of the pain in my mouth.

Berlin. A lovers session that had everything I ever hope for. Intimate, intentional, and hitting somewhere deep.

It was a reunion with a photographer I first met eight years ago at a workshop I taught. This time, she was in front of my camera with her partner. And what unfolded was raw, honest, and unforgettable.

Her partner is non-binary and had recently undergone top surgery. They were shirtless in bed together, holding each other, vulnerable and whole.

No posing. No pretending. Just being.

There were moments I put my camera down. Not because I had “enough shots.” But because it felt sacred. And I didn’t want to disrupt that with a shutter.

"This wasn’t just a session. It was trust made visible."

I’m still culling these frames–and still feeling every bit of them. Playful. Honest. Unfiltered in the best way. The kind of storytelling I want to lean into more and more.

Chapter Two: The Moment It All Fell Apart

But the universe had other plans.

We wrapped the shoot, grabbed pizza, and sat by the water. Laughing. Talking.

And then, I bit into something weird, like a very tough nut or something. My already fragile tooth split in half.

I tried to shake it off, stood up to take one last shot – and my phone slipped out of my lap. Straight into the water.

My train ticket? On that phone.
My entire lifeline? Gone.
Pain in my mouth. Stress in my chest.

Somehow, those two beautiful humans I had just photographed jumped into action. They wanted to get in the water – I stopped them, of course.

They ran with me through Berlin, helped me get my ticket reissued, got painkillers from the pharmacy, and one of them literally handed me the meds one minute before my train left.

"By the time I got home at 2 a.m., I had no phone, half a tooth, and a heart full of gratitude."

Chapter Three: Finding Clarity in the Wreckage

The next day, I opened the photos.

And somehow – peace.

Not because anything was fixed. But those images brought me right back to why I even do this.

They reminded me what this work means.
Not just to my clients. But to me.
To anyone who’s ever needed to feel seen.

"Sometimes the art is worth the chaos."

This session reminded me that this path I'm on matters. But I keep asking myself:

Can I survive financially if I walk away from big weddings?
Will I still book enough of the work that means the most to me?

I'm not sure yet. I'm still figuring out how to offer it, how to price it, how to sell it without diluting it.

But the clarity is stronger than ever. And that's a damn good place to start.

Chapter Four: What a Punk Icon Taught Me About Letting Go

Then I watched an interview with Davey Havok, the singer of AFI. One of the voices of my youth.

Hearing him speak unlocked something deep.

“You read my Substack? Wow. That means everything to me.”
“There’s so much beauty in the darkness.”

Yes. I feel that too.

He talked about transformation – about being in a band for over 30 years and how change isn’t something to resist, but something to work with.

It hit me hard. Because I’m in the middle of my own shift.

I'm still asking myself – will it work if I let big weddings go?
If I strip it down to the kind of work that sets me on fire?
Elopements. Intimate portraits. Lovers being exactly who they are.

Can that be enough – creatively, emotionally, financially?

That interview reminded me that reinvention isn’t failure. It’s necessary.

"His words gave me permission to want different things now. To grow into new shapes."

There’s too much gold to stuff into this one letter. I’ll probably write more on it soon – because the way he talked about change, community, and creating something real... it cracked something open in me.

Chapter Five: This Isn’t Just a Newsletter – It’s the Start of Something

I don’t just want to write these emails. I want to build something that goes deeper.

FTHSB? Was never supposed to be just a one-way thing. It’s personal. It's my baby. And maybe – one day – it could grow into something more.

A space to connect. A space to create. A space to feel less alone in this wild industry.

I’ve been thinking a lot about community. Not just a group chat. Not just a feed full of likes. But something intentional. Something that’s built slowly, honestly, from the ground up.

I imagine:

• Sharing unfiltered thoughts about the creative process
• Watching each other edit or work in real-time
• Talking honestly about pricing, burnout, creativity
• Learning from each other without ego or gatekeeping

But here’s the thing: I don’t fully know how to build it yet. And I don’t know if there’s even interest.

"Right now it’s just a seed. But if it grows, it could be something beautiful."

It would be paid – because it takes time, energy, and brainpower to build something real. And if I’m going to do this, I want to do it right. Not just another forum or dusty Slack group. Something alive. Something cared for. Something that helps people grow in their art – and helps me keep showing up fully, too.

If this idea speaks to you – even just a little – reply. Tell me what you'd want from something like this. What would make it feel like home, not just another hustle.

I'm listening.

If any of this stirs something in you – if you’re craving connection, feedback, real talk about this creative life – I’d love to hear from you.

What would you want this space to feel like? What would make it worth being part of?

Tell me. I’m all ears.

Final Thought

"Sometimes it takes a broken tooth and a drowned phone to remind you what really matters."

The work you do – the real work – holds power.
Not because it’s perfect. But because it’s honest.

Thanks for being here.
For reading. For feeling. For still giving a damn.

Hugs,
Bjørn

For the hearts still beating – keep creating, keep pushing, keep giving a damn.