Trickster Magazine

We met over a plate of dangerously good chickpea fries and a glass (ok, it was a bottle) of sparkling cava, complete with a custom Henriette label, at the sixth floor restaurant to talk about her process, her shifting position behind and in front of the lens, and what it means to build confidence as an outsider – even when naked.

Your photos distort bodies, bend light, and fracture form, yet nothing feels artificial. It’s all organic. Is surrealism in your work a way of getting closer to the truth?
– Yeah, I would say so. I think any kind of art is a search for truth. You have to express what is true inside you. When I create new work, it often comes from the subconscious. I don’t always know why I need to make something, and only later do I understand why that subject called to me. The process teaches me things I hadn’t realized consciously. So yes, I do think surrealism can lead to truth.

Would you say your work is a form of self-revelation?
– Definitely. Even if I’m not using my own body, it still feels like a self-portrait. I’m revealing parts of myself I wasn’t fully aware of.

But that act of revealing can feel vulnerable, can’t it?
– It can, but maybe a bit less when it's done through art. Expressing something in an image feels easier than saying it out loud. Some things are hidden in the work. Not everyone will understand everything. Some people will get parts of it. It feels more disguised – safer that way.

There’s a lot of nudity in your work, but the body is never objectified. It doesn’t feel gendered or sexual. Is that instinctive, or does it come from growing up in a Scandinavian culture of saunas, skinny dipping, and relative gender equality?
– I think it’s both. In Denmark, nudity is treated pretty casually. We went swimming every week as kids. My parents are doctors, so they were never weird about bodies. Changing clothes at the beach wasn’t a big deal. That upbringing definitely influenced me.

Still, doing nude photo shoots required overcoming some fear. It takes trust between me and the model. What helped was modeling for a photographer friend who also works with nude subjects in nature. That gave me an understanding of how it feels to be on the other side of the camera – and how important it is to make someone feel safe.

I always send the final images to the model for approval. If they don’t like something, I don’t publish it. Trust is more important than any photo.

Your shoots feel almost ceremonial. How do you foster trust and emotional openness on set?
– Most of my models are friends, so there's already trust. But I try to keep the shoot day open, relaxed, not rushed. We hang out, talk, ease into it. That atmosphere helps everyone feel more comfortable.

When you're behind the lens, is it more like entering a meditative state or chasing a kind of creative high?
– Absolutely. It’s very intense. I forget everything else. But it’s also exhausting. When I get the image I wanted – even if I didn’t know what it was beforehand – I feel joy, relief. It’s like chasing a dopamine hit.

You once said you feel more like a scenographer than a photographer. How much of your work is planned, and how much is chaos?
– I plan what I bring, props, materials, but I let the shoot evolve. I guide the model intuitively. Weather is a big factor too. If the light’s not right, I cancel. I always plan for backup days.

How do you deal with the brutal Scandinavian winters?
– Usually I shoot during the summer, it’s just easier. But I’ve done some winter shoots too. One of them was actually kind of stupid, in retrospect. I was in Norway this February, skiing with some friends, and I decided I wanted to take a self-portrait in the snow. We found this spot on a slope that looked perfect. I convinced my friend to help and gave her instructions: “do this, do that, we’ll shoot fast.” It was around -10°C, but the sun was shining, so I thought, how bad could it be? The whole shoot lasted maybe five minutes. As soon as I felt like, okay, we’ve got it, I rushed to get dressed again. But my body temperature had dropped so fast I suddenly couldn’t feel my hands or my feet. My friend had to help me put my socks and gloves back on because I literally couldn’t do it myself.

Afterwards, I just thought, What was I thinking? It was dangerous. Like, truly dumb. I should know that – being a doctor. That one shot was definitely not worth risking it being my very last.

So what’s your ideal weather forecast?
– Clear skies, maybe 15–17°C. Too much heat makes the mirrors burn! The video of the choir in the exhibition was shot outdoors in 29°C heat. Some of them were pregnant and wearing wool – they were brave, but it was rough.

Behind the camera, are you a witness, a manipulator, or a collaborator?
– All three. Some things unfold on their own. Sometimes I guide. And often, the model brings something unique that transforms the image.

How does that play out in commercial work? Do clients give you creative freedom?
– As a photographer, you’re essentially the director of the shoot, and that means having to balance a lot of competing visual elements. Even if, say, the hairstylist creates something beautiful, something sculptural and striking, it might be too much once you add in the clothes and everything else. Maybe the stylist brings a pair of jeans with embroidered flowers, and a top with a wild print. On their own, these pieces are gorgeous – I totally agree – but when you put them all together, it can overwhelm the image.

There were times I worked with stylists who didn’t fully understand that visual balance. For me, the most successful commercial or fashion shoots are the ones where the clothes or products feel integrated into the image. It’s kind of like product placement in film – you shouldn’t really notice it consciously. It works better when the clothes become part of the visual story, not something that pulls focus. That’s when the image really comes together.

Do you feel like slower, more poetic work is coming back as a reaction to fast-paced image culture?
— I don’t know. I follow my own rhythm. Developing new ideas takes time. If I’m working on an art project, I want to push myself and experiment with new techniques. That takes a lot of time to develop. With fashion or commercial work, I usually draw from previous personal work, since I need to come up with something quite fast on demand.

Your self-portraits fragment your own body. Is that about building the ego or dismantling it?
— It feels more like a performance. If someone else takes my picture, I feel awkward if it’s not for art. But when I do it myself for my artworks, I can play a character – still myself, but more artistic. It feels less awkward, more free.

Has that changed the way you see yourself in the mirror?
— It’s something I try to address in my work. You can still be your own worst critic. But I try to use models with natural forms, who don’t necessarily fit into conventional beauty standards. That makes the image more interesting - those “imperfections” can reveal real beauty.

As an autodidact have you faced resistance from the art world?
— Yes, especially since in Denmark there is more focus on young artists coming from the academy, which I’m not. Also, my work looks different from most. Abroad, I never experienced any skepticism about my background in medicine. On the contrary, most people think it’s an interesting combination that adds more layers to my work.

Do you feel freer now to experiment?
— There’s definitely pressure. I feel like whatever I do next has to be more successful – or at least more interesting – than what came before. That expectation can weigh on you. If people respond positively, it’s affirming. I still seek approval, as I find it encouraging when you get a positive response. It makes me want to continue creating my art, since I feel like it matters.

Who do you talk to when you're unsure about a project?
— Mostly myself. Sometimes my husband or parents, but often I just trust my intuition.

One last Trickster question: If perception is always a trick, are you more magician or mirror?
— I like to think I’m a magician. There’s a film, The Prestige by Christopher Nolan, and it really spoke to me. I want people to look at my work and wonder: How was this made? What am I really seeing? However, I hope that I can also be a mirror to the soul – both to my own and to whoever views my work.