Arts Alive San Antonio

JASMINA WELLINGHOFF, Editor

Here in San Antonio, we know you as an excellent photographer of the performing arts, and I know you are also photographing other subjects. How did you get interested in photography as a profession?
I was born and raised in Iceland, and my father was the camera man for the Icelandic TV. Growing up, cameras were always around. So, photography was always around me one way or another. Also, I used to teach golf, and used videography in my teaching. I used underwater photography in teaching scuba diving, as well. In fact, my first commercial job was underwater photography. That was a long ago. When I moved to San Antonio 13 years ago, I was working in a cubicle at USAA at first but I needed a more creative outlet, so I returned to my photography. I started with architecture photography.

Across the street from me lived Roberto Prestigiacomo (Italian-born founder of the Attic Rep theater company) and he asked if I could photograph his shows. I started with “The Last Days of Judas Iscariot”  and after that I photographed every production Attic Rep did. They did great stuff, the stuff that matters. Then, other theaters started asking me to photograph their productions. I did a lot of work for the (San Pedro) Playhouse, the Woodlawn, the Classic… I take pictures in beat with the dialogue and action on stage.

How do you define yourself as a photographer?
I define myself primarily as a service provider. My photography is a tool for the people that I work with. Gives them an opportunity to display their work. People say. “Oh, your photos are beautiful art.” But I don’t see myself as an artist. In addition to performing arts, I photograph landscapes, like large ranches for sale, and I work a lot for architects and home builders. Sometimes I shoot pictures just for myself, when something catches my eye. When I go out on my motorcycle, I often shoot pictures for myself. I’ve been in a few shows with San Antonio Visual Artists and I have participated in the FotoSeptiembre Festival.

When did you leave Iceland?
With only 350,000 people in Iceland, I felt that there was so much more of the world to be seen. When I turned 18, I first went to Denmark for a while and then traveled throughout Europe, stayed with friends. From there I traveled to north and eastern Africa, Israel, Sinai Desert, Thailand (where he met his Lubbock-born wife who took scuba diving lessons from him.)

What do you like best about living in San Antonio?
The people. And, until COVID, the growing and thriving arts community. Arts can bring together people from all walks of life. Here, people who can barely afford a ticket to a play, sit right next to people who fund the whole thing, and they all enjoy the show together. That’s the draw of this town.

This past year-and-a-half has been very challenging for all of us but heartbreakingly so for you.
Yes, it started with my mother-in-law passing away from COVID in June of 2020. She was living in a memory care facility. COVID has really showed us the nasty side of humanity in the United States. She was not counted as a COVID death. Her death certificate said she died of heart failure. Officially, that facility never acknowledged that it was COVID, because if they acknowledged COVID, they would have had to make expensive changes in their facility. Then my father passed away on Dec. 20^th in Iceland. He had a massive heart attack and we were told that there was hardly any chance that he would survive. I couldn’t even travel to Iceland at that time. I took my jeep and my camera and went out to Big Ben, which is like church to me. I photograph it 3-4 times a tear. A strange coincidence happened. I woke up the morning of Dec. 20^th at the camp site at Big Bend State Park. There was a beautiful sunrise and I made myself a cup of coffee and walked up to a hill and sat there thinking about my dad. It turned out that was exactly when he passed away, at 4 in the afternoon in Iceland. (He pauses) Then my son dies in a tragic accident in Iceland this past October. I went to Iceland for his funeral. That was really hard. When I got back, I had work lined up all the way to Christmas. But these losses will have to be dealt with at some point. The loss of my son is especially hard to process. Nobody should burry their children, That’s just not right. (He never loses his composure while telling us about these tragedies.)

So, how do you deal with all of that?
I’ll have to get back to you on that.

Here’s a question to honor your father: What’s the best advice he ever gave you?
My father had a hard time with us, four pretty crazy boys. He once said to me, “You should not take things personally, especially as a father. The best thing that you can do is to guide children, show them the right path. Whether they follow it or not has nothing to do with you. If they misbehave, it’s not your fault. Don’t take it personally”

I think I apply that to almost everything. We often get caught up in what other people think or need. It’s important to take a note of that but not take it personally. So, for example, if someone screams at the barista in a coffee shop, it’s not the fault of the barista. It’s the fault of the person who came in with a baggage. I have had to use his advice with my daughter who is about to turn 22 and my son who is about to turn 18. The only advice I have given my kids is “Don’t be an asshole!” That means show people respect, be fundamentally a good person; everything else will fall in line.

Let’s talk about a few other things. How many languages to you speak?
I used to say seven but I think I am down to five now. If you don’t use it, you lose it. My five are: Icelandic, my first language; Danish, my second; English, German and French, and I have a good understanding of Swedish and Norwegian.

In addition to photography, what are you good at?
I can do a lot of stuff. For a while I studied furniture making and design in school in Iceland. I also did a year-and-a-half of electronics; I am generally good at doing things with my hands. When we lived in San Francisco, I had a golf store. That’s another long story. (He learned how to build golf clubs when a store he frequented in San Francisco could not deliver the clubs in a timely manner, then proceeded to share ownership of the enterprise with the original owner)

What brought you to San Antonio?
Our daughter was born in 2000. After she was born, we started talking about leaving California, which was getting extremely expensive. We were renting our place and we felt like were not getting anywhere with what we were doing. At that time, I was talking with the PGA about helping to run one of the facilities that were supposed to be part of the planned PGA Village here in San Antonio. Then complications arose about putting the golf complex over the aquifer and the whole project got embroiled in local politics. But we moved here anyway. Also, my wife wanted to get back to Texas, and I did not want to go to Lubbock, so San Antonio was between Lubbock and the ocean, and we settled for that.

Here’s a question that I probably should have asked earlier. What aspects of American life did you have a hard time adjusting to when you settled in this country?
I had a really hard time with political correctness. Californians are very politically correct, which, I think is a hindrance in communication. People don’t tell you what they really think. That was hard for me. To me, true and open discussion is the fundamental characteristic of social interaction. (He gives an example by recounting how he and Roberto Prestigiacomo (another European) got into a heated exchange about soccer. His wife got concerned because she thought that the two men were fighting because they were yelling. “No, we are not fighting,” he told her in astonishment. “We are just discussing.”)

Here’s a question I often ask: If you were the omni-potent king of San Antonio, what would you like to change or implement in our city?
I would try to get people in the arts to work together. For example, I saw theaters working against each other instead of helping each other. I would like to see them collaborate on programming, for instance. The pool of patrons is not that large, so if everybody decides to do “Hamlet” one year, they are dividing the audience, which harms them all. Also, if you did Hamlet last year, and another company is doing it this year, help them out; give them costumes, for instance, and share with them what you learned.

I get people all the time asking about my photographic work but, I’ve noticed, that many are afraid to ask those questions because other photographers refuse to say anything “because you are going to be my competition.” I don’t consider others as my competition. We are all working in the same pool. If we help each other and learn from each other, we all grow and improve.

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