Hey, I’m Greta.

My work lives at the intersection of beauty and discomfort. I use photography to explore power—who holds it, who’s denied it, and the struggle between the two. Whether it’s a person finally stepping into a power they’ve kept quiet, or the imbalances between humans and the animals whose suffering we too often overlook—through consumption, waste, or indifference—I’m drawn to dynamics that ask us to look closer, not away.

Discomfort matters to me. It’s where change begins. My work leans into that unease—not to provoke, but to pull you in. I’m drawn to moments when the mask slips, when illusion cracks, when something real seeps through. A feeling you didn’t expect. A truth you didn’t know you believed.

Visually, I go for the gritty and cinematic. Slightly surreal. A little askew. I play with psychological states and emotional undercurrents—staying in that in-between space where contradiction lives.

If my work makes you pause, shift, or say, “wait, that’s a little weird”—then it’s doing what it’s supposed to.

There’s always a story. Let’s tell a one that makes someone look twice.

——

Hey, I’m Greta.

My work lives at the intersection of beauty and discomfort. I use photography to explore power—who holds it, who’s denied it, and what simmers in the spaces between. Sometimes it’s a person quietly reclaiming themselves. Other times, it’s the imbalance between humans and the animals whose suffering we’ve normalized—through consumption, convenience, and indifference.

Discomfort is important to me. It’s where change begins. My work leans into that unease—not to provoke, but to pull you closer. I’m interested in moments where the mask slips, where illusion cracks, where something real spills out. A feeling you weren’t expecting. A truth you didn’t know you believed.

Visually, I like it raw and cinematic. Slightly surreal. A little off. I exaggerate psychological states and emotional undercurrents—playing in the in-between, where contradiction lives. There’s always a story. Sometimes it’s strange. Sometimes it’s soft. Sometimes both.

My mom and sister are more than muses—they’re my creative partners. They taught me to see darkness as a source, not something to avoid. They helped me find the sacred in what’s often overlooked, and the power in what we’re taught to hide.

If my work makes you pause, shift, or say, “wait, what?”—then it’s doing what it’s supposed to.

Let’s tell a story that makes someone look twice.

Hey, I’m Greta.

My work lives at the intersection of beauty and discomfort. I use photography to explore power—who holds it, who doesn’t, and the tension between the two. Whether it’s a person finally stepping into a power they’ve kept quiet, or the imbalances between humans and the animals whose suffering we too often overlook—through consumption, waste, or indifference—I’m drawn to dynamics that ask us to look closer, not away.

My style is gritty, a little unsettling, and has a narrative. Sometimes it’s provocative. Sometimes it’s tender. But it’s always telling a story—inviting you to feel something, and maybe even rethink something you thought you knew.

My mom and sister (both of whom are present in much of my work) are my creative muses and partners. They taught me to embrace the power of darkness—the underworld, the undercurrent. They helped me discover the beauty in contradiction and the tension that lives between opposing truths.

My mom says my work is like if Helmut Newton and David Lynch had a baby, but with more mannequin pieces and doll heads. I’ll take it.

There’s no greater compliment than someone looking at my work and thinking “that’s weird.”

I believe discomfort is important. My work might make you uneasy—but it also asks you to come closer, to sit with the tension and see what it brings up.

Hey, I’m Greta.

I make work that lives somewhere between beauty and discomfort. Photography is how I explore power—who has it, who doesn’t, and everything that plays out in between. Sometimes it’s about someone finally stepping into a power they’ve kept quiet. Other times, it’s about the imbalance between humans and the animals whose suffering we cause—through our food systems, our waste, our choices.

I believe discomfort is necessary. It cracks things open. My work might make you pause or shift in your seat—but that’s the invitation: to come closer, not look away.

My style is raw, cinematic, and a little off-kilter. I love visual storytelling with tension, mood, and mystery. I’m drawn to strange objects, unexpected pairings, and visuals that feel like a dream you’re still trying to figure out.

My mom and sister are my muses and creative collaborators. They helped me fall in love with the darker layers of life—the shadows, the undercurrents, the power of contradiction. Together, we bring what’s hidden into the light and let the story unfold from there.

I make work that lives somewhere between beauty and discomfort. Photography is how I explore power—who holds it, who’s denied it, and everything that simmers beneath the surface. Sometimes it’s about someone reclaiming a part of themselves they’ve hidden. Other times, it’s about the imbalance between humans and the animals whose suffering we normalize—through what we consume, what we waste, what we ignore.

Discomfort is where transformation begins. My work often leans into that tension. I like the in-between moments—the quiet before a decision, the mask slipping off, the illusion unraveling. I’m drawn to exaggerated states of being, moments that distort reality just enough to reveal something deeper.

Visually, it’s raw and cinematic, with a hint of strangeness. There’s always a story—sometimes tender, sometimes dark, often both. My mom and sister are my muses and creative partners. They taught me to embrace the power in contradiction, to pull beauty from shadow, and to treat the weird, the offbeat, the overlooked as sacred.

If the work makes you pause and feel something unexpected, I’ve done my job.

My work sits at the intersection of beauty and discomfort. I use photography to dissect power—who holds it, who’s stripped of it, and what simmers underneath. Sometimes it’s a person reclaiming what’s theirs. Sometimes it’s the quiet violence we inflict on animals through our food systems and daily choices.

I like the in-between—where masks slip, illusions crack, and truth creeps in. I exaggerate psychological states to expose what we’re taught to hide. My images are raw, strange, and cinematic. Always with a pulse, always telling a story.

My mom and sister are my creative anchors. They taught me how to pull beauty from shadow, and to see the sacred in what’s often ignored.

If the work feels a little off—that’s the point. I want it to stop you, just long enough to see something you weren’t looking for.

I like tension. I like pulling shadow into the light, exaggerating psychological states to expose what we’re not supposed to see. The illusion, the performance, the ache underneath.

Ledger
(Journal / Blog / Behind the Scenes)
This is where your audience gets a glimpse into your process, the dark humor, the BTS stories — all while keeping the aesthetic intact.
Could include:
• Behind-the-scenes shoots
• Studio experiments
• Personal notes on power, beauty, and the art of control.