Little by little, I’m also getting used to the new rhythm of my days.

I bought a small lemon tree, along with rosemary, sage and echinacea. I planted them in old pots I already had. They’re small, ordinary tasks, but they bring me a surprising amount of joy. Slowly, my garden is becoming a place where I discover something new every day.

At the same time, I’ve been thinking a great deal about my work. I’m trying to understand what it feels like to leave the dancers behind. Who am I without the language of dance?

At first, it feels sparse, perhaps even a little vulnerable. I’m beginning to wonder whether photographing dancers was also a way of hiding behind a visual language that had become familiar to me. Now that I’m forced to work differently, it also feels like an adventure, a search for a different visual voice.

What images truly belong to me?

For years, working with dance meant I hardly had to ask myself that question. I simply kept doing what I had always done. That’s exactly why it feels so interesting to take that familiar language away. What remains? What do I notice then? What is it that I really want to show?

The beautiful thing is discovering how infinite a very small world can be. Within just the square metres of my garden, I find something new to photograph almost every day. I look more carefully. More slowly. With a greater sense of wonder.

As a result, I’ve developed a much deeper affection for my own surroundings. They give me a sense of grounding and calm. And perhaps that’s what my work has been about all along: not so much the place itself, but the act of paying attention. Of truly learning how to look.

Very slowly, I’m peeling away the layers. Not to become someone else, but to move a little closer to the core.

And what about Nijinsky?

I’ve started organising the printing of the book. Just when I thought this would be the easy part, it turned out to be a little more complicated than I expected.

I won’t bore you with all the technical details, but getting the black and whites just right takes some testing and careful consideration. I want the images to have the depth and richness I see in them on screen, without losing something in the printing process.

So it may take a little longer than I had hoped. But I’d rather take the time to get it right.

Love,
Monique



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Bring In Search of Nijinsky to Life