I Turn Toward
the Avoided

I grew up in an unstable environment shaped by alcoholism and people living on the margins of society. From a young age, I learned to read faces. To sense tension, vulnerability, and danger without explanation.

I’m drawn to what feels awkward and human, and I photograph the strange because that is where beauty feels alive

The people around me were characters shaped by survival. One-percent bikers moved through the same spaces, men living by their own codes, slightly misaligned with the world around them. My mother moved easily among them, close friends with the president of the Hells Angels in Norway. Their faces stayed with me long before I understood photography.

At fifteen, I went into the streets of Oslo and photographed people. One of the first was a man living on the edge of society. I photographed him because his strangeness felt beautiful to me. Moments later, he chased me down the street. Fear surged. Adrenaline followed. It felt cinematic.

The people I photograph live close to the edge, like characters from the Coen brothers’ Fargo, inhabiting a reality that follows its own strange logic.

From the Ukraine Project

This artwork forms part of a wider photographic art project documenting the atmosphere of Odesa, Ukraine, and the lives of those living on the edge of society during the war.

Instinct
and the
Human Face

Remove the eyes. Remove the mouth.
The damage remains.

Vidar Korneliussen, AKA Tyheim
Odesa, Ukraine - November 2025

NPPA

Member of the U.S. National Press Photographers Association (NPPA).

NPPA

Q + A

  • 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. 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.

  • 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.