A year ago, I presented Sexperimental for the first time and now it’s back. This time in a gallery in Le Marais, Paris. Not for one evening, but for an entire week. The project is still the same, but so am I—and at the same time, I’m not.
Over the past year, I went back to all ten books. I revisited them, reworked them, questioned them, and looked at them through everything I’ve experienced since they were first shown.
I wasn’t interested in improving them. I was interested in understanding them. Some projects give you answers. This one keeps asking new questions.
The more time I spend with Sexperimental, the less it feels like a collection of books and the more it feels like a living conversation between photography, writing, memory, imagination, and desire.
The women remain at the center of everything. Not as subjects, but as muses, catalysts, and mirrors. Every story, image, and emotion begins there.
And femme fatale was never just an aesthetic for me. It’s a presence. A tension. Something impossible to fully explain but instantly recognizable when you feel it.
This exhibition isn’t really about looking at books.
It’s about stepping inside the world behind them.
The thoughts, doubts, obsessions, fantasies, and contradictions that exist before an idea becomes clear.
Some things became sharper over time. Others became more mysterious.
I stopped trying to simplify them. Instead, I followed them deeper.
What you’ll find here is not a finished statement. It’s a process still unfolding.
An invitation to slow down, wander through the layers, and maybe discover something that connects with your own experience.
Because Sexperimental was never just a book. It’s a doorway into a certain state of mind.
And at the center of it all is still the same thing that started it in the first place: falling in love with life.