Three chairs

The studio on Kingosgade has three chairs. None of them match. One is a Danish teak armchair from the 1960s that I found on Dba — reupholstered once, in bone-coloured linen, for a boudoir session that went long enough that the woman fell half-asleep in it. The second is a bentwood cafe chair with a woven seat. The third is a stool. You use that one last.

The window faces north. In April the light arrives at about nine and is gone by four. In December it barely shows up. I keep the backdrop rolled against the wall and the kettle on a small table by the door. A session starts with tea.

I tell people to bring something they like wearing. Not something new. Something they already feel like themselves in. A grandfather’s shirt. A sweater that has been washed enough to go soft. A dress from the back of the closet that they didn’t throw away for a reason they can’t quite name.

The pictures remember.