muse: ok why a box tho. not a book, a box
treskow: because a box keeps secrets. it has a lid
you don’t browse it, you decide to open it. that’s already a different relationship
and inside, things can live together that would never share a page: a print, a note, a smell, something that’s just weird
a book tells you a story. a box lets you make your own
muse: ok but is every box the same then
treskow: no. one shoot, one muse, hundreds of photos. I go through the pool and choose differently for every box. never the same composition twice, even from a single shoot
muse: even from the same shoot, same woman
treskow: especially then. one afternoon, one energy, split into a hundred versions depending on what I pull and how I put it together
muse: notes and letters too?
treskow: every time, new ones. written once, never reused
muse: and the prints themselves
treskow: different paper, sizes, formats, on purpose. glossy next to matte, big next to small. the materials pull you further into the mood of that day, like they’re part of the memory
muse: so nobody’s holding “the shoot.” they’re holding one mood you cut out of it
treskow: exactly. same muse, same day, different door every time.
Paris'26