Artist Spotlight: Friðgeir Helgason

Friðgeir Helgason’s artistic journey has been far from linear. Born on the Icelandic island of Vestmannaeyjar, he was forced to leave in 1973 after a volcanic eruption displaced his family. He grew up in Reykjavík, moved to Los Angeles at 20, and then to New Orleans to study cooking. Photography came much later, after a period of instability that led him to Los Angeles’ Skid Row and, eventually, sobriety. “Six months after I got sober, I went to LACC to study filmmaking,” he said. “And then I took a photography class, and something just clicked.”

What drew him in was independence. Filmmaking required teams, planning, and structure, while photography allowed him to work alone, moving freely and creating work immediately. He switched majors on the spot, and has been photographing ever since.

Though he’s based in the United States, Friðgeir still moves between his American and Icelandic identities, describing himself as both an insider and an outsider in each place. “I’m always just looking and watching… like an alien,” he said. That distance shapes how he sees the world, and he carries it directly into his work.

Like his own identity, Helgason’s photography explores the notion of place. Each project begins with a geographic boundary. “Anything within the boundary is game,” he explained. He often works over long periods of time, letting projects develop at their own pace as he delves into the area enclosed. In some cases, this exploration lasts years.

This approach has led to unexpected connections across landscapes. In one project, he photographed both Iceland and Louisiana and paired the images from each area. Surprisingly, viewers often struggled to tell them apart. “There was a conversation going on between the two,” he said. Later, in his series Sand and Snjór, he found a similar dialogue between the Mojave Desert and Icelandic winters; two environments defined by opposite relationships to water.

Helgason’s investigation of place relies on movement. Road trips are central to how he works, often spending entire days driving and stopping to photograph. “It’s what’s between A and B,” he said. That openness allows the work to evolve naturally, shaped by what he encounters rather than a fixed plan.

He now shoots digitally, but his mindset remains analogue. “It’s not really a photograph until it’s printed on paper,” he said. Until then, it exists only as a possibility.

Friðgeir seeks his inspiration from diverse sources, including painting, literature, and, especially, photobooks, which he collects extensively.

Turning to young artists, his advice is foundational: “Find your own voice and develop that. Be true to yourself.” “Before you finish a project, start the next one.”