I’ve realized that most of my urban photography over the years can be traced back to a persistent obsession with geometry. Which in turn is something I also enjoy as a “subject” when I paint.

Straight lines. Hard angles. Repeating patterns. The way glass, steel, and concrete intersect and hold their ground against sky and light. I don’t think I ever made a conscious decision to photograph “architecture” as such. It just kept happening.

There’s something deeply reassuring about order in my somewhat chaotic world. Cities are loud and messy – yet within all that noise, there’s some kind of order – often retrofitted – doing what it can to accommodate the people who live, work, and move through the always evolving or iterating urban landscape.

Beams align. Facades repeat. Windows stack into grids. Staircases slice diagonals through space. Even the most aggressively modern building still submits, in the end, to mathematics – a subject I’m impossibly poor at understanding, but whose outcomes I can still appreciate and be inspired by.

Over time, my fascination with geometry has become less about documenting details in cities and more about collecting visually appealing, often calming scenes and situations within an urban environment.

Maybe that’s what keeps me coming back. In a life that’s often anything but symmetrical, the cold, hard logic appeals. The calm of things that know exactly what and where they are supposed to be. Much unlike myself.

I’ll continue to photograph geometry in urban landscapes because geometry never gets old – and neither does the small, private satisfaction of framing the mundane in a way that, at least to me, feels interesting. Like these stairs that intrigued me as I walked to catch the 09:05 morning train to Malmö a couple of days ago.