Albert Elm captures our world at its most absurd through a photographic autobiography

When Danish photographer Albert Elm was growing up, he moved around the country a lot, often having to adapt to new people and places. In a world of foreign objects and new experiences, it was the camera that was the first thing to feel natural to him. Albert’s newest photography book This Much Is True captures the world filled with low-humming oddness, monolithic buildings, strange textures and life as if it’s from a faraway planet. It’s like looking through the eyes of his nomadic childhood – and it’s his continued excitement about the world that keeps his work invigorating.

“The title suggests that it’s time to stop and reflect – to move on and say: ‘Now at least I know this much is true’ – which is hard to be certain about in a ‘post-truth era’,” says Albert. One of the most enduring and attractive qualities about photography, arguably, is that it’s objective, no matter how beguiling the subject matter may be. The shutter opens, takes in exactly what is in front of it and stores it without embellishment. It’s difficult to take in the Earth of This Much Is True – it’s almost alien-like. In the post-truth era, as Albert calls it, what can be taken at face value? Tiny glasses with dentures hanging off the rim, bright green hedges carved into the shapes of dolphins like Edward Scissorhands, an ominously beheaded deer, a giant snow-sculpture shaped like castle walls. The viewer finds oneself constantly wondering, ‘Where am I?’

“Being on the move a lot and alone at an early age left me with the feeling of belonging everywhere and nowhere. I learned that people feel similarly and share the same concerns,” says Albert. “Only small things differ. And those things are interesting to find and point out playfully. Especially in increasingly polarised times.” This Much Is True is an exercise in empathy with the world, an attempt to figure out what it looks like and how it works (and what is real). It’s an alternative vision of suburban life, of giant natural formations, of life and death – even if the photos are as stunning as glaciers that are probably rarely seen or shots that the everyday person can see, like a dog caught hounding at food scraps on the pavement.

“I think photography and bookmaking is like playing chess with a clock. When the time is on it’s all about intuition and experience. Sometimes it’s hard to explain why you press the shutter at that exact moment. But everything you ever learned makes you act subconsciously,” says Albert. Like jazz music, which Albert is fond of, photography is improvisation with objects and with those around you, energy bouncing and light catching at the exact right time. It’s hard not to think about the lyrics ‘I know this much is true’ from the iconic Spandau Ballet song, or the Wally Lamb novel – two pieces of media that voice uncertainty and confusion in the world, but nevertheless have come to terms with one significant personal truth despite it all. In This Much Is True, the romance of globe-trotting and unique experiences is deeply felt within its pages, offering a kooky autobiography of a photographer who slipped into a wormhole that leads to a world that is too strange to be ours and too good to be true, but it is.