Journalism

Morning Light in Stockholm

Year /

2025

Client /

Drift Magazine

Country /

Sweden

Category /

Editorial Portrait Photography

Kind of Work /

Magazine Cover Story & Editorial Feature

mnts read

Editorial assignments often begin with a mood board.

This one began with a conversation over coffee.

I travelled to Stockholm a month before production to meet the editorial team at Drift Magazine. Their office occupies the second floor of a nineteenth-century building on Brunnsgatan, just a few minutes from Sergels Torg. Books were stacked everywhere. Large print proofs covered the walls. Someone was quietly editing photographs from the previous issue while jazz played softly in the background.

There wasn't a single conversation about camera equipment.

Instead, we talked about silence.

The Autumn Issue would explore the idea of living more intentionally—how Scandinavian designers, artists and architects shape spaces that encourage people to slow down.

The photographs needed to feel observational rather than directed.

"We want readers to feel like they're discovering Stockholm," the editor said. "Not visiting a tourist guide."

That became the brief.

a wooden dock sitting on top of a body of water

Whenever I photograph a city, I spend at least one day without taking a single picture.

Instead, I walk. Stockholm rewards that kind of patience.

I crossed Skeppsholmen before sunrise, wandered through the narrow streets of Gamla Stan, watched commuters cycle along Strandvägen, and ended the afternoon sitting beside the water in Södermalm, simply observing how people moved through the city. Patterns slowly appeared. Nobody rushed.

People paused at bakery windows. Design students sketched inside cafés. Bookshops opened slowly, as if they weren't competing with time. Those observations became more valuable than any location scout.

The magazine wanted every location to feel authentic. Instead of renting studios, we photographed inside independent spaces that already had their own character.

A florist on Åsögatan. A ceramic workshop near Mariatorget. A family-owned bakery tucked into a quiet side street. An architect's apartment overlooking the rooftops of Södermalm. Nothing was built specifically for the shoot. Every photograph belonged to a place that already existed. That honesty became the visual identity of the story.

One of my favourite parts of editorial photography is working with people who have never stood in front of a professional camera — Architects, Ceramic artists, Bookbinders, Furniture makers.

Most of them begin by apologising.

"I'm not comfortable being photographed."

"I don't know what to do."

"I've never done this before."

That's exactly why I enjoy these assignments. People stop performing after a few minutes. Eventually they return to their work. That's when the real portraits begin. One ceramic artist spent nearly twenty minutes shaping a bowl without speaking. The resulting photographs felt far more personal than anything we could have directed.

a cobblestone street lined with yellow buildings

III

Magazine covers often feel carefully orchestrated. This one wasn't. On our final morning we returned to Monteliusvägen, one of Stockholm's most beautiful viewpoints overlooking the city. Dense fog had settled across the water overnight.

Most of the skyline disappeared. Only church towers and rooftops emerged through the mist. Initially the editorial team worried the weather had ruined our plans. I thought exactly the opposite. The city suddenly felt quieter. More mysterious. The cover image was made within fifteen minutes. No dramatic sunrise.

No colourful sky. Only soft grey tones and a single figure walking through the landscape. Sometimes less really is more.

Unlike commercial campaigns, magazine photography must work across multiple formats. A double-page spread behaves differently from a website. Margins matter.

Negative space matters. Typography becomes part of the composition. Throughout the week I kept imagining where headlines would sit on each page. Where the fold would interrupt an image. Where readers' eyes would naturally move. Photography doesn't end when the shutter closes.

It continues through design. Seeing the final layouts several weeks later reminded me how collaborative publishing really is. Writers, editors, designers, printers and photographers all shape the same story.

One afternoon we finished earlier than expected. Rather than returning to the hotel, I walked through Humlegården Park carrying only one camera. An elderly man sat reading beneath a tree while yellow leaves slowly covered the path beside him.

Nobody had planned that photograph. It wasn't commissioned. It wasn't part of the shot list. Months later the editor called me.

"We're opening the story with that image."

It perfectly captured the atmosphere the entire issue had been searching for.

Not because it explained Stockholm.

Because it allowed readers to experience it.

a group of people walking around a street next to tall buildings

"Every editorial begins with observation, not with a camera."

The Autumn Issue was released in October and quickly became one of Drift Magazine's most widely shared editions. Readers wrote to the editorial team describing how familiar the photographs felt.

Many recognised places they passed every day but had never truly noticed. That's one of the greatest compliments a photographer can receive. Not that an image is beautiful. But that it encourages someone to look differently at the world they already know.

Several photographs from the story were later exhibited during Stockholm Design Week, where large-format prints transformed the magazine feature into a physical experience.

Watching visitors quietly move between those images felt remarkably similar to walking through the city itself.

When I think about Stockholm now, I don't remember the schedule. I don't remember the equipment. I remember conversations. The sound of coffee cups inside small cafés. The smell of fresh bread drifting onto quiet streets before sunrise.

The fog rolling across the water. Editorial photography isn't about documenting places. It's about preserving atmosphere. Cities change. Buildings change. People move on. But atmosphere has a way of staying with us. And if a photograph can hold onto even a small part of that feeling, then it has done its job.

Location

Drift Magazine Editorial Office
Brunnsgatan 11
111 38 Stockholm, Sweden

city skyline across body of water during daytime

man in black jacket riding on bicycle during daytime

Modern black kitchen island with light wood cabinets

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"Cities reveal their true character long before the streets become busy."

contact

hello@monaeuphorya.com

Usually replying within 1–2 business days.

Photographer based in Copenhagen, Denmark.

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