Trond
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trondfroestad.com
Trond
@trondfroestad.com
Wandering photographer || Still sitting civil servant || Oxford Brookes Photography MA Student

https://www.trondfroestad.com/
November 7, 2025 at 5:39 PM
Thank you for the kindness. It’s a different mindset, searching for the tension in color.
November 3, 2025 at 5:07 PM
November 3, 2025 at 4:21 PM
November 3, 2025 at 4:21 PM
November 3, 2025 at 4:21 PM
November 3, 2025 at 4:21 PM
Nothing is lost, nothing is created, everything is transformed. The shipyard changed and the frame shifted. And still, something carries forward, over the water. I wonder, will this space find a new rhythm, and another way to bridge the gap.
October 25, 2025 at 3:00 PM
Perhaps this challenge is part of what keeps the process alive. Reflecting on new perspectives disturbs old habits, inviting another way of seeing what was always there. In these crossings, between direction and form, the narrative quietly continues.
October 25, 2025 at 3:00 PM
For years, I have worked almost entirely in the vertical. It has shaped how I see and informs a narrative. Turning the frame sideways feels like unlearning a language. The tension shifts, and balance begins to ask a different why.
October 25, 2025 at 3:00 PM
Poetry isn’t an island, it is the bridge.
Poetry isn’t a ship, it is the lifeboat.
Poetry isn’t swimming. Poetry is water.
- Kamand Kojouri

It reminds me that the work is not only about structure but connection. A bridge, like a frame, invites passage of the heart.
October 25, 2025 at 3:00 PM
While editing, I’ve been curious about how the shapes of bridges inform silent transitions. They carry our weight and connections, yet always steadfast and grounded. Maybe a frame can act in the same way, bridging the past with the present.
October 25, 2025 at 3:00 PM
The tension of the moment sits closer to the surface, raising the question of whether proximity sharpens truth or distance clarifies it. In both cases, time becomes the quiet unifier, binding the act of capture with the act of reflection.
October 17, 2025 at 6:43 PM
For seven years I kept a one‑year pause between photographing and developing. It began as an exercise in patience, a way to see with clearer eyes. That rhythm has shifted within our exploratory course at Oxford Brooks, where the process now unfolds within shorter phases.
October 17, 2025 at 6:43 PM
«What makes photography a strange invention is that its primary raw materials are light and time.» — John Berger. This thought has stayed with me as I’ve worked to understand how time itself edits, removing what once felt urgent and revealing the core of what remains.
October 17, 2025 at 6:43 PM
To both walk and look again is not to repeat. It is to listen more closely, attuned to the project, and to see how the anchor continues to shape understanding of the world we live in and the passage of our time within it.
October 10, 2025 at 4:30 PM
Dorothea Lange once asked Ralph Gibson, “What is your point of departure?” That question stayed with him. The anchor sharpens this departure, steadying fragments of discovery into dialogue.
October 10, 2025 at 4:30 PM
Searching for reflections and layers, folding time into the surface of the image. What was once only an observation becomes a question of memory, of how distance, light, and change alter meaning with each return.
October 10, 2025 at 4:30 PM
These early images hold the weight of beginnings. They recall the first walks, without an anchor, when seeing was uncertain and each pause offered a new way to understand both space and self.
October 10, 2025 at 4:30 PM