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A State of National Emergency
During the 2026 FIFA World Cup, I photographed people in Norway gathering to watch football.
In Norway, the matches appeared as light on large screens: in tents, bars, temporary outdoor arenas, in public squares, and in places that would normally have been quiet or empty. I was less interested in the obvious moments of celebration than in everything around them — the waiting, the tired bodies, the commercial structures, the glow from the screens, and the strange temporary rooms built around a game happening elsewhere.
This is a visual record of how football briefly rearranged everyday life in Norway: how people gathered, endured, celebrated, drifted away, and left behind traces of a collective attention directed toward something they could not touch.
A State of National Emergency
During the 2026 FIFA World Cup, I photographed people in Norway gathering to watch football.
In Norway, the matches appeared as light on large screens: in tents, bars, temporary outdoor arenas, in public squares, and in places that would normally have been quiet or empty. I was less interested in the obvious moments of celebration than in everything around them — the waiting, the tired bodies, the commercial structures, the glow from the screens, and the strange temporary rooms built around a game happening elsewhere.
This is a visual record of how football briefly rearranged everyday life in Norway: how people gathered, endured, celebrated, drifted away, and left behind traces of a collective attention directed toward something they could not touch.