Sofus Madsen

Sofus Madsen spent his days wandering Oslo’s back alleys with a twin-lens Rolleiflex strapped to his chest, snapping square photos like a postman sorting mail. He’d frame a soot-stained wall or a tilted clothesline with the same steady hands he used to develop prints in his bathtub sink at night. Why he never signed his work is anyone’s guess; maybe he liked the idea of pictures ghosting through the world unattributed. Hunt down his 1962 *Untitled (Photograph)*—it’s a quiet corner of the city caught between dusk and a single streetlamp, the kind of image that makes you pause mid-step.