Berlin

The last trip of 2024 was to Berlin—a small holiday together with my love. I had never been to Berlin before, and I fell in love with the city straight away. We walked for hours without a plan, and I simply took photos of things that resonated with me or inspired me. It felt more like practice than a purposeful endeavor.

On New Year’s Eve, I got sick again—a mild cold caught me, but it made me reflect on my health. Last year was incredibly hectic, filled with adventures and amazing opportunities, but it was also a bit overwhelming.

In the coming year, instead of constantly running around, I want to focus on my latest project. Hopefully, by the end of the year, I’ll complete a dummy for my new book. I also want to leave some space for unexpected things that might come my way.

In Search of Nijinsky

November 2023

‘In Search of Nijinsky’ is a personal quest into the inner world of Vaslav Nijinsky, one of the most influential dancers of the 20th century. What began as a fascination with his extraordinary dance abilities—how he used his body to convey emotions and tell stories—has evolved into a deeper exploration of his mental state, particularly during the period surrounding his diagnosis of schizophrenia and the time he spent in various clinics until his death.

The images I create serve as metaphors for the complexities of the human brain—the disorder, disruption, and vulnerability that often remain invisible to the outside world, much like how mental health issues are frequently overlooked. Nijinsky's diaries, written shortly before his admission to a psychiatric clinic, reveal a flow of unstructured thoughts, as if the words poured directly from his pen, unfiltered. The sincerity and intensity of his writing remind me of how he might have danced—without restraint, fully in the moment. There are no moving images of these performances, only descriptions and a handful of photographs.

My project is not a documentary, nor an informative account of Nijinsky's life. Those stories have already been told. Instead, I aim to capture the loneliness and inner struggles that followed his public life. It is an attempt to understand what was happening in his mind when his body was no longer his primary instrument. Did he still dream of dancing? Did his thoughts move in rhythms and leaps, as his body once had?

This project is a search for recognition, for understanding, for a moment of silence amidst the chaos. A moment when we no longer have to pretend everything is normal but can briefly surrender to the truth of what is going on within us.

When I started my Nijinsky project, I went to Nancy in France to meet up with Lorenzo, an Italian dancer I had met in the Netherlands during a backstage shoot with DDDD (De Dutch Don’t Dance Division, The Hague).
When I thought about how I wanted to capture Nijinsky, Lorenzo came to mind, and I decided to visit him. At the time, I had no clear idea of what I wanted to photograph or how, but for me, it works best when I just start. I call that sketching.
We photographed for two days. A few of the images immediately struck a chord with me. Now that I am further along in the process and have a clearer sense of what I want to convey, I am revisiting the photos I took back then.

THOUGHTS

I couldn't sleep last night; Nijinsky haunted my thoughts, among other things. What intrigues me so much? And what am I really looking for? I thought about Artur Japin and his book. I also read an online interview with him about the book and why he wanted to write it. Interestingly, I discovered through that interview that Japin has danced and attended a theater school. With that, we share a common background. We also share a fascination with madness. Growing up in a family where mental health issues were not unfamiliar, I found myself pondering after reading Nijinsky's diaries whether he ever danced again or used his body to express his movement language. I found an answer to this question as well; in the interview, it is mentioned that he spontaneously leaped in front of journalists outside his room, only to fall back into silence.

In a moment of inspiration, I sent a message to Mr. Japin, hoping that he might be willing to share his knowledge with me. We'll see.