Trusting Instincts in Photography

I had my latest photoshoot on Monday with Sara. Everything was planned—the locations, the mood board, the structure of the shoot. I had prepared everything to ensure that the process would flow seamlessly, reducing any uncertainty. The locations were already scouted, and the vision was clear.

But photography, at least the way I approach it, is never just about preparation. It’s about listening—to the light, to the environment, to that quiet inner voice that often knows more than the mind.

That morning, while sipping my tea and waiting for Sara to arrive, something shifted. I couldn’t explain why, but I had a strong feeling that the locations I had chosen wouldn’t work the way I had envisioned. It wasn’t doubt—it was intuition. A quiet pull toward something else. And then, almost out of nowhere, I remembered an aerial view I had seen on Google Maps. A gravel pit not far from my home, a place I had stumbled upon while searching for snow surfing spots. I hadn’t considered it before, but in that moment, it felt like the right choice.

When Sara arrived, I told her we were changing plans. Instead of the original locations, we were heading to that gravel pit. And it was worth it. What we found was unlike anything I had expected—gravel piles covered in fresh snow, sculpted by the wind, creating a landscape that looked like small mountains. It was stark, raw, and exactly what the shoot needed.

Intuition in photography isn’t about ignoring preparation—it’s about knowing when to let go of it. Planning gives you structure, but instinct leads you to discovery. There’s a point in every shoot where technical decisions fade into the background, and something else takes over. You direct the model, you compose the frame, but the real magic happens when you stop thinking and start feeling—when you trust that instinct to refine the shot, to make the image stronger than what you had initially imagined.

Some of my best images have come from this space—from moments when I let intuition guide me rather than controlling every detail. It’s about recognizing that photography isn’t just about looking—it’s about seeing. And sometimes, what you need to see isn’t on the plan. It’s in the moment, waiting for you to notice it.

Living and Working in a World Made of Snow

A freezing wind tears through my beard, biting at my chin. The thermometer reads -27°C (-16.6°F), but the wind cuts deeper, making the cold feel like something alive. I’m standing atop a wall of snow, looking out over the frozen Bothnian Bay, where the sea has surrendered to ice. Below me, the engine of a tractor growls—a low, steady rhythm in the silence of the Arctic winter.

A blast of snow erupts from the snow sling, tumbling through the air before settling into the wooden molds. That’s our job—to tamp the snow, to pack it solid before carving begins. The cold is merciless, but there’s no standing still. Lifting heavy tools, cutting ice with chainsaws, hammering, shaping, building—the work keeps the body warm. Just as exhaustion sets in, a voice calls out. Break time. A brief pause before the work begins again.

This is what the Frozen Warriors do—12 to 16 hours a day, through the heart of winter. Every year, we construct something monumental, knowing it will not last.

The Snow Castle of Kemi is not just an attraction; it’s an ephemeral masterpiece. First built in 1996, it has been reborn every winter, each time with a new architectural vision. Its walls have stretched as far as one kilometer, its footprint has spanned between 13,000 and 20,000 square meters. Inside, the elements remain the same—a chapel, a restaurant, a snow hotel—but the form is always different. No two years are alike.

What we build is temporary by nature, but that doesn’t lessen the craft. Every block of snow is cut, stacked, and sculpted with the same precision as stone or steel. The only difference is time. In just a few months, when the temperatures rise, the castle will dissolve into water, returning to the sea, as if it had never existed.

I wasn’t always just an observer. Eight years ago, I was hired as a builder. I held the tools, packed the snow, worked through the endless shifts in the deep cold. I felt the fatigue in my bones, the satisfaction in my hands. But I also carried my camera.

Since then, I have been documenting the life of the snow castle builders—the men and women who endure the cold, who build with their hands, knowing their work will vanish. There is something powerful in that. Something humbling. To create, knowing it will not last. To build, knowing it will disappear. To return each year, knowing you will do it all over again.

That is what it means to be a Frozen Warrior.

Lindbergh’s Timeless Vision

It’s funny that, in a time when AI is taking over, I find Peter Lindbergh’s work even more inspiring—precisely because of its rawness and realness. Coincidence? I don’t think so.

In a world increasingly driven by algorithms, automation, and digital perfection, Lindbergh’s photography stands as a reminder of what truly moves us. His images, untouched by artificial gloss, celebrate imperfection, depth, and humanity. And that’s the paradox—we’re surrounded by technology that can generate flawless visuals in seconds, yet we’re drawn more than ever to what feels real.

After all, as humans, we crave connection. We seek truth in the textures of skin, in the imperfections of light, in the unguarded moments that reveal something honest. Lindbergh understood this deeply, capturing not just fashion, but the soul within it. His work reminds me why I photograph—not to chase perfection, but to tell stories that resonate, that live, that breathe.

Maybe that’s why his images feel even more relevant today. Because in a time when the artificial is everywhere, the real has never felt more powerful.

And that’s something AI will never replicate—the weight of a gaze, the vulnerability of a fleeting expression, the way light falls naturally across a face, telling a story no algorithm could predict. Lindbergh’s work isn’t just about style; it’s about essence. It’s about stripping away the unnecessary until only truth remains.

Looking at his images, I’m reminded that photography is not about creating something perfect, but about revealing something true. And in a time when machines try to rewrite what “real” even means, the importance of that only grows.

The Watcher in the Shadows

Süleymaniye, March 2018. The golden hour light was soft, catching the rough texture of the wall. A rooster stood quietly, its shadow merging with the scene, as if it belonged to the past as much as the present.

Above, a barred window reflected fragments of the world around it, blurred and imperfect. Everything felt still—just light, shadow, and time overlapping.

This image captures one of those rare moments where the ordinary transforms into something timeless.

I’m excited to share this photograph with you, not just as an image but as a story frozen in time—a story of Süleymaniye’s quiet beauty during the golden hour.

If you’d like to bring this moment into your space, you can find the print available.

NEW PRINT RELEASE: A Moment from Süleymaniye

A new print has just been released, capturing a quiet, powerful moment from the heart of Süleymaniye. A Syrian man pours the rest of his tea onto the ground, the steam curling softly into the air, carrying unspoken stories. Moments before, we shared cigarettes and a quiet moment together. The tea, simple yet symbolic, grounded us in the moment.

This piece reflects the beauty of everyday moments and the strength of the human spirit.

Each print is made using high-quality pigment, with an outside white border, and comes certified and signed.

Thank you for supporting this story.

From Pixels to Paper: Digital Negative Workshop (ONLY A FEW SPOTS LEFT!)

Esa Ylijaasko is hosting an immersive two-day workshop at the Tampere Photography Center's darkroom, exploring the unique advantages of silver gelatin printing and the intricate preparation of digital negatives for darkroom use. Participants will also dive into alternative creative techniques, expanding their toolkit for digital photography.

Join us to discover innovative ways to enhance your digital work. Apply for the workshop through the link below.

Finnish Sauna Culture Big in Japan

I’m thrilled to share that my artwork on Finnish sauna culture will be featured in Japan from 2026 to 2027! This upcoming exhibition tour will travel to renowned venues across Japan, including the Toyama Glass Art Museum, Hiroshima Museum of Art, Kogen Museum of Art, and Gallery A-Quad in Tokyo.

This project began back in early 2023 when I collaborated with the Alvar Aalto Foundation on a sauna-themed exhibition for the opening of the Aalto2 Museum. The experience of blending Finnish sauna culture with Aalto’s architectural legacy gave me new perspectives on this tradition and strengthened my connection to it.

My journey into capturing Finnish sauna culture started in 2016, during my time with the VII Photo Agency's Mentor Program. It was my first project focused on exploring my own heritage, allowing me to interpret Finnish culture through a deeply personal lens. What began as an individual journey has grown into a bridge between cultures, as this intimate aspect of Finnish life finds a new home in Japan.

Tales of Istanbul: Holy Prestige

During my time living in Istanbul from 2013 to 2018, I frequently embarked on photo walks with my friends Jason Eskenazi and Arjen Zwart. Together, we explored the city’s hidden corners during the golden hour, always on the hunt for the perfect shot and the best Turkish coffee. Eventually, I stumbled upon a spot at the entrance of Eminönü Mosque, where worshippers emerged after prayer—offering ideal lighting for dark background portraits. While I can’t recall exactly how many times I patiently waited for the right moments at this location, I returned repeatedly over several weeks, striving to capture the perfect images for this collage.

Initially, a collage wasn’t how I envisioned executing this artwork, but as the process unfolded, it became the best way to represent that spiritual connection, tradition, and cycle of life.

Holy Prestige is a collage of eight black-and-white photographs capturing conservative women as they pass through a single location while leaving Eminönü Mosque during the golden hour, between 5:00 PM and 6:00 PM.

Why Hands-On Workshops Are Essential for Photographers

I recently led a two-day workshop during Photo Festival Tampere at the Tampere Photography Society's darkroom. The workshop focused on the fundamentals of silver gelatin printing and explored the preparation of digital negatives tailored for darkroom conditions.

The most rewarding aspect of teaching is witnessing students grasp something new. Each workshop not only allows me to share my knowledge but also gives me the chance to learn from my students. Coming together with creative minds to exchange stories and insights makes hands-on workshops truly fulfilling. That’s what fuels my passion for conducting workshops and lectures.

In December, I’ll be organizing a two-day workshop at the Tampere Photography Center's darkroom. This advanced workshop will delve deeper into creative silver gelatin printing techniques and the preparation of digital negatives for darkroom conditions. Stay tuned for more details coming soon.

Tales of Istanbul: The Black Dog Chronicle

Eleven years ago, I embarked on a journey to Istanbul, driven by a desire to immerse myself in a long-term project that would hone my skills as a photographer and help me discover a workflow that truly reflected my inner self. My passion far exceeded my skills, and I found myself eager to capture every moment that crossed my path. It took time to realize that I needed to learn the art of patience, to observe quietly and wait until the moment was right.

This lesson crystallized when I set out to photograph the black dog. For a week, I returned to the same spot at Süleymaniye Mosque, writing my thoughts in my journal, waiting with calm breath for the dog to walk into the perfect frame near the edge of the roof. Day after day, the dog roamed, never quite where I needed it to be. But on the seventh day, as I sat on the mosque’s lookout, pen in hand, I saw the dog moving slowly, and I knew—this was the moment.

The light was just right, and as the dog passed through the frame, I closed my eyes and gently pressed the shutter of my old Polaroid Land Camera. In that instant, I felt a deep connection to my art, knowing deep down that I had captured something special.

Tales of Istanbul: A Man in the Ferry

In the early mornings, I’d head out alone with my camera, finding a rhythm that felt like mine. It was during these solo walks that I really started to get the hang of photography. The quiet gave me a sense of peace, and I realized I didn’t need music to guide me—just the stillness that helped me truly see. Even now, when I’m in my studio, setting up the lighting for a shot, I crave that same quiet, a space to really connect with what I’m photographing. I used to think that music, especially jazz, was my go-to inspiration. But now, I get that it’s actually the silence that brings the image to life for me.

This picture came from one of those calm mornings, on a ferry to Eminönü. I spotted an old man, fast asleep, all by himself. The ferry was gliding along, and I was there to capture a moment frozen in time—a lonely man dreaming, with the changing scenery gently passing by behind him.

The best pictures I have ever taken were captured in the silence.

Digital Negative Workshop @ Tampere, Finland 2024

Esa Ylijaasko will be organizing a two-day workshop during Photo Festival Tampere at the Tampere Photography Center's darkroom. The workshop will cover the basics of silver gelatin printing and delve into the preparation of digital negatives for darkroom conditions.

The course will help you discover new ways to work with digital photography.

You can apply for workshop from the link below.

THE NEW BEGINNING

It's been a long journey since I graduated from the College of Arts in 2010. My path has taken me around the world—from working as a newspaper photographer in Temuco, Chile, to documenting the lives of Syrian refugees in the Süleymaniye neighborhood of Istanbul, Turkey. Today, I am renovating my dream house in my small hometown in Lapland, Finland.

The global pandemic changed our lives, and it also transformed the way I think about my artwork. I've been quiet about my creative process for years, but now it's time to share my methods and what happens behind the scenes. I will also share background stories from my older works and showcase some unseen pieces in the future.

Welcome to follow my journey.

Workshop #01

Luovan valokuvauksen keskus ja valokuvataiteilija Ylijaasko järjestävät Galleria Ratamon pimiössä kaksi päivää kestävän workshopin jossa käydään läpi hopeagelatiini vedostamisen perusteita ja syvennytään digitaalisen negatiivin valmistamiseen pimiö olosuhteisiin.

Workshop järjestetään 7.10.-8.10.2022.

Tämä workshop on auki 10 osallistujalle. Ilmoittautumisia otetaan vastaan 6.10.2022 asti.

Tämä kurssi auttaa sinua löytämään uudenlaisia tapoja työstää digitaalista valokuvaa.

Kurssi soveltuu aloittelijoille sekä kokeneille.

Kurssin hinta on 65€ sis. ALV

Ilmoittautumiset info@luovake.fi

FLASH PRINT SALE

I am offering a unique opportunity to purchase signed fine art photographic prints on the theme of ‘The Sleeping Giant’. For one week only, prints will be available for just 80€ EACH.

Each 20x25cm photograph is printed by Epson UltraChrome archival inks on archival fine art Museo Portfolio Rag paper by the artist himself. Backed and sleeved in archival materials. All prints come with a certificate of authenticity. 

The sale begins on Sunday, February 2, 2020 at 02:20 PM and concludes on Saturday, February 8, 2020 at 02:20 PM.

Orders could reserve by direct message in Instagram, and by mail contact@ylijaasko.com

The prints will be sent to buyers using the international postal service, and will take between two to three weeks from the end of the sale to arrive. Shipping is not included in the offer price.

A Mule in Grans Sasso, Italy 2016.