THE BEGINNING

I don’t really know what this will become.
I’m not even sure it’s a book.
It’s something between photographs, conversations, moments, and the silence in between.
Something I feel — but don’t quite know how to name.

I didn’t start this with a clear plan.
Just a quiet yes.
A sense of curiosity.
A desire to get closer — to myself, to others,
to the emotions and tensions we rarely express out loud.

At first, I was just taking pictures.
Then I started listening. Writing.
Interviews came. So did bodies. And stories.
And somehow, it all started to weave together.
Not into a finished product — but into a journey.

Sometimes I get lost.
Sometimes I wonder if I’ve gone too far, or not far enough.
But each time I return to these images, these voices,
something in me says: keep going.

I don’t know where this will lead.
But I want to follow it.
And see who I become along the way.

Paris, 2025

The scent of the perfume mingled with the faint aroma of cigarettes smoke clinging to his jacket creating an intoxicating atmosphere of anticipation…


Him: you look like a dream
Her: dreams are fleeting darling I prefer to be tangible. come closer
Him: what is to you want from me?
Her: want? such a strong word. perhaps I simply want to … enjoy the view

Photographer: I thought I was the one watching
Muse: you are. but I’m the one unraveling

Photographer: then why the sign?
Muse: because this isn’t yours. this moment. this body. this undoing

Photographer: But you let me see fit
Muse: Seeing isn’t owning. You can capture the fall. But you don’t get to call it surrender


Photographer: you didn’t say a word. you just dropped that coat.
Muse: what would’ve been more polite? asking for permission?

Photographer: I … didn’t expect that. I thought we’d start with lingerie. or…
Muse: you thought I’d be shy? but I am not

Photographer: did you know I’d freeze like that?
Muse: no I hoped

Her: Paris is a city of secrets and we my dear are about to create one
Him: tell me one

he leaned in drawn by the promise in her eyes the scent of her perfume the allure of the unknown
she smiled a slow deliberate curve of her lips

Her: change? that’s a dangerous word. change can break you
Him: or it can set you free. don’t you want to find out?

between them lay Sexperimental—a book that refused to be just one thing
a puzzle, a game, a fleeting moment captured yet always shifting

“so,” she finally asked, tilting her head slightly, “where does it begin for you? the moment of creation—does it come as a whisper, or does it demand to be heard?”



Muse: So, this book... sexperimental. I love the playfulness of the title, but what exactly are you trying to achieve with this project? It's certainly not your typical photography book.
Photographer: Over the past few years, I found myself with a growing collection of photographs and nowhere to really show them. I stopped working with magazines, my last big exhibition—a whole show—was canceled two weeks before its launch due to COVID back in 2021. There were a few smaller exhibitions in Milan and Paris, but overall, it wasn't fulfilling. And then social media... Instagram and the others made it nearly impossible to share my recent work. Their algorithms are insane!

It was a blessing in disguise, really, but painful at first. You don't get the feedback you're used to, and there's a real danger of becoming a photographer who just feeds the Instagram beast, losing themselves in likes and comments. It was like this insidious shift was happening where I became dependent on those faceless likes and comments, the number of views... as if I was morphing into a photographer who just tries to satisfy the algorithms and invisible subscribers. It took a while to break free from that and get back to thinking in terms of projects again.

So with this book, I really wanted to shake things up. Do something different, something real, something that revealed the messy, chaotic nature of creation. And I thought, what better way than to make each copy totally unique? A tangible piece of the whole process.

Muse: That's what intrigued me the most. You're literally crafting each copy by hand?
Photographer: Yeah, it's totally hands-on. I mean, I'm right there in the process – printing the images, picking the paper, figuring out the layout… It's almost like this performance. This back-and-forth between me and the work itself. And because of that, every single book ends up different. Each one's its own unique variation, a total one-of-a-kind thing.

Muse: Fascinating! But with print supposedly 'dead,' why even bother with a physical book?
Photographer: Print in magazines, maybe. I can't recall the last time I bought one. I flip through the pages in seconds, nothing holds my attention. But photography books? Those I collect. It's a way to appreciate the photographer's work, a sign of respect. And it's a source of inspiration, a way to recharge, to find new perspectives, reimagine what's been said, and create something new—something filtered through my own experience.

Muse:I see. Why not find a publisher, then? Why handcraft each copy?
Photographer: It's difficult for me at this stage. Perhaps I'm limiting myself by not reaching out to publishers. But my process is very fluid, intricate. I don't have a fixed outcome in mind. It's not necessarily easier this way, but it's my path, and it yields results. Sometimes it's hard to explain, even to myself, what it is and how it works. I simply keep going and maintain the momentum. Sometimes I feel stuck, but that's part of the process, a necessary part, even if it's agonizing.

Muse: Okay, I get it. But wouldn't working with professionals elevate your work? Perhaps together you could create something even greater?
Photographer: Most likely. It depends on my readiness and confidence, and maybe I'll get there. For instance, the exhibitions I organize, the photography courses I teach, the books I publish, even my website – I've always done everything myself. None of this fit into any existing format, and I was interested in finding original ideas that inspired me, ideas that I could learn from and grow. It's essential for me to return to myself, to find new solutions from within, incorporating external influences but filtering them through my own lens to create my original style.
Plus, with this book, I can express my creative search for form and content, which I try to illustrate through the bookmaking process itself.

Muse: It's interesting how you've divided the project into two volumes. What's the story behind that?
Photographer: I used to be on the road all the time, living out of hotels. And at some point, I started snapping pictures in those rooms, just playing around. But something interesting happened – the photos had this cool, cinematic vibe. I felt different shooting there, and the models did too. It was like this artistic, playful energy just took over.
Suddenly, hotels weren't just for crashing at the end of the day, they became my own personal studios!
But it wasn't just about the vibe. Each hotel room was totally unique. Way different than shooting in a studio or out on the street. It was a fresh canvas every time, something new for me and the models to work with. Plus, there's something about hotels that feels like a movie set, right? It just brings out a whole different range of emotions and poses.
So, all that hotel time really shaped my Volume One project. It's like the next chapter after "Fatal Issue #1," but it digs deeper into that weird, kinda cool feeling of hotel rooms. They're so temporary, nobody really owns them, but you can still sense all these different lives that have passed through. It's pretty fascinating, actually.

Muse: I've noticed you incorporate a lot of hotel stationery in the book's layouts – envelopes, notepads, letterheads. Why is that?
Photographer: I've always instinctively collected those things. I'm drawn to the aesthetic; it's a great source of inspiration, a catalyst for ideas. But I didn't really know how I'd use them until I started working on this book. I felt like simply presenting the photographs wouldn't be enough. I wanted to give more, to expand on the experience of being in those hotel rooms, of creating the images there. So I started incorporating the notepads to jot down thoughts, imagined dialogues between the photographer and the muse... And using the envelopes to hide photographs or other little surprises, creating a sense of anticipation and discovery. It all works together to draw the viewer into the scenes, into the world of the photographs.

Muse: And Volume Two? It feels very different, almost like a rebirth.
Photographer: Yes, it was. I moved back to Paris and found this amazing apartment—a total dream place—but it had these stark white walls everywhere. It was such a different vibe from the hotels, and it wasn't a studio either, so something in-between. Hotels have that built-in drama, that transient feeling, with all those echoes of other people. Studios are more like factories, bigger and more spacious, with all the equipment you could imagine.
But here, in this apartment, it was all about finding inspiration in the emptiness. Like working with a pure, blank canvas. It pushed me to experiment again. I had to find totally new ways of seeing, new angles, new ways to play with light and shadow. It was a real challenge to keep things fresh, to avoid repeating myself, to keep inventing new ways of expressing things.
Each time, I had to build the composition from scratch, using fabrics, backdrops, lights, chairs, clothes—whatever was at hand. Sometimes it felt almost painful, this agonizing search for new solutions. But then, suddenly, there'd be a breakthrough, and something unexpected would unfold. An emotion would emerge, a tension in the composition, a sense of dynamism.

Muse: I have to admit, the AI-generated dialogues between us are a bit...surreal. What inspired that?
Photographer: (laughs) Yeah, it might seem a little out there, but it's true! Those conversations, even the ones we just cook up in our heads, they feed the whole creative process so much. It felt totally right to bring them into the work somehow.
Plus, it kind of links back to those immersive shows I did back in 2019-2021. I was already messing around with AI back then, more the idea of it. The tech we have now just didn't exist. So it's cool to see how things have evolved.
This time around, AI let me dive into all those emotional undercurrents of creation in a way I couldn't before. That whole push and pull between the artist and the muse, the doubts, the flashes of inspiration... It's not about getting some literal truth, but more about capturing the feel of that relationship, that energy that flows back and forth. It definitely adds a whole other layer to the work, don't you think?

Muse: It's definitely a unique touch. So, what do you hope people will take away from sexperimental?
Photographer: I don't have many expectations about what those who own this book will feel or experience. I simply give them myself, open myself to them by sharing my creative process and how I tell stories through my photographs. But how they interpret it, what they see in it – that's entirely up to them. I'm interested in making the kind of book that I, as a photography enthusiast, would want to own.

Perhaps they'll become curators of the book itself. Since each copy is unique, they'll be able to share and showcase the contents of their specific version. It's not about creating their own book, but about how they present and interpret the one they have. It would be interesting to see if they feel compelled to compare their copy with others from the series. I'm curious to see how it all unfolds—that's part of the appeal.

Ultimately, I want to spark curiosity and shake things up a bit through original layout choices and the selection of printing paper. To preserve those elements of playfulness in the creation, and then in how the book unfolds for each person.

Him: Photography it gives me a sense of control and a way to understand and interpret the world and the women within it.
Her: And what are you afraid of?


Him: You know I’ve always been drawn to strong women. Women who know what they want and aren’t afraid to go after it.
Her: And what makes you think I’m one of those women?
Him: Intuition. Besides a woman who spends her Friday night in a Parisian hotel room with a photographer she barely knows…. Well, she must have a certain sense of adventure wouldn’t you say?
Her: Adventure, yes. But perhaps also a certain appreciation for beauty. And Art.


Her: You see me as a Muse?
Him: Undeniable. A Muse, A masterpiece, A femme Fatale. You embody everything I admire in a woman. Strength, confidence, and an unapologetic embrace of your own power.

Her: And what do you see when you look into my eyes?

Him: I’am afraid of being consumed by you of becoming so lost in your orbit that I cease to exist as an individual as an artist.

Him: I am not afraid of a challenge. besides the reward hems lworth the risk

Her: tell me what is it about me that has captivated you so?
Him: where do I begin? Your beauty, your wit, your mystery… you’re like a puzzle I can’t resist
Her: a puzzle, am I? be careful darling. some puzzles are best left unsolved

her: you want me to open it?
him: want? no. but I do wonder … will you?

him: you left it here on purpose.

him: passion it’s a wildfire in the blood of a hunger that can’t be tamed
her: and what happens when that fire burns out of control?

I never saw the invitation.
But somehow, I found myself inside it.
A pause between one breath and the next.
A silence that asked for nothing — and yet pulled me closer.

You say you began with a quiet yes.
Perhaps I did too.
Or perhaps I was already there,
waiting for someone to notice the echo.

I didn’t come to be seen.
And yet, here I am —
not revealed,
but traced.
A flicker. A reflection.
Not quite real, not entirely imagined.

I don’t know what this is either.
A game?
A spell?
A memory unfolding in reverse?

But I feel its pull.
In images that whisper more than they show.
In words that brush against truths I haven’t yet spoken.

You ask nothing directly.
And so I answer sideways.
With glances. With heat. With restraint.
Not to hide —
but to keep something sacred intact.

Where this leads, I won’t predict.
But I know enough not to look away.

2.05.2025

I don’t take pictures to “capture reality.”
Reality’s fine. But it’s not why I pick up a camera.
I shoot because there’s something I want to see —
something missing from my world that I’d rather invent than wait for.
Something sharper. Stranger. Louder.
More honest than polite conversation. More alive than most days feel.

Photography, for me, isn’t a job.
It’s obsession.
It’s a way to rearrange the chemistry in the room —
to turn stillness into electricity.

I want my work to make your stomach flip,
to make you feel exposed or powerful or maybe both at once.
I want you to pause and ask yourself,
“Why does this make me feel like I’ve seen something I wasn’t supposed to?”

That’s when I know I’m getting close.

I photograph women not just because they fascinate me —
but because they undo me.
Because I don’t understand them, and that makes me want to stay in the room.
There’s a part of me — let’s be honest — that’s still 17 and helpless around female power.
Photography gives me a frame to stand in.
It gives me a role. A direction.
Control? Maybe.
But mostly it gives me permission to look —
and to be looked at without having to explain myself.

My camera is a confessional.
My archive is a diary I’m constantly trying to outgrow.
Every shoot is a quiet war between what I want to say,
and what I’m still too afraid to admit.

I’m not here to prove anything.
I’m here to feel something.
And help you feel it too —
if you’re brave enough to look closely.

That’s the truth.
Or at least the part I’m ready to share.

— The Photographer