”FcK”

Size: 2500 x 2000 mm

This photographic series was born out of a private commission from a collector of zoological animals. Very quickly, the project evolved into a more intimate and broader reflection. It was no longer just about capturing ‘beautiful images’, but about letting whatever each shot inspired in me emerge: an emotion, a memory, a scene, sometimes even a dream.

Each ‘click’ acts as a trigger for me. It sends me into a sensitive zone where images interact with my thoughts and feelings. From there emerge fragments of stories that I try to transcribe visually.

Presented in very large format, it evokes the old tapestries that adorned stately homes.
qui ornaient les maisons de maître.

But here, instead of hunting scenes and symbols of domination,
I offer another interpretation: that of a world in introspection.

An invitation to question our values,
our relationship with nature,
with life, and with the dignity of living beings.

These images are like tapestries of memory, where each thread tells of struggle,
of warmth rediscovered, of blossoming after the cold.

One of the central themes of this series is the tension between being and artificial intelligence. Through these compositions, I question the place of instinct and life in an increasingly technological world. This reflection is rooted in the imaginary figure of ‘Jolia’, an entity that I explore internally and which guides me like a poetic totem.

The colour red, omnipresent in the series, is another powerful symbol. It runs through my images like raw emotion, a universal language. It evokes war, play, love, fear, desire, strength, hunger. An ambivalent colour, sometimes sacred, sometimes forbidden.

This representation is inspired by the idea of the ‘hunt after the hunt’, it depicts the animal as a subject of contemplation. While shooting, I observed in the so-called ‘game’ animal a behaviour of avoidance, a search for shade, for refuge from its fellow creatures. An instinct to withdraw that echoes that of humans. The image thus becomes a metaphor: it questions our relationship to intimacy, secrecy and survival.

Size: 2000 x 1339 mm

« G-aap-erS »…overal!

Zoo… zijn wij niet 😉

of toch wel?

« G -aap-erS »

This deliberately dissonant title is the result of a play on words and images. It appropriates a Flemish expression referring to people who are always on the lookout, watching their neighbours' every move, scrutinising others not out of kindness, but out of misplaced curiosity, envy, or a simple need to know.

A portmanteau word, a gentle mockery, a sharp observation.

The term ‘aap’ in Flemish, meaning ‘monkey’ in English, becomes here a nod to this mimetic and reflexive posture: that of imitating without understanding, copying without creating.

Through this image and this title, I question a way of living, a way of doing things.

I mock it, because sometimes you have to laugh to see more clearly.

This behaviour, once confined to the half-open windows of neighbourhoods, has multiplied in the age of social media, where we scroll through other people's lives as if leafing through a catalogue of what we are not — or what we think we should become.

‘g-aap-ers’ is an invitation to step away from the gaze of others, to leave this theatre of appearances behind and rediscover a little sincerity in our gestures, in our glances — and in our silences.

"Winter Birds"

Size: 2500 x 1670 mm

An image of cold and silence, but also of resistance and renewal.

After a long period of immobility, the body awakens,
the light returns, the wings spread once more.

Nothing really stops, as long as we continue to fight,
as long as we retain the ability to flap our wings.

This series is about that — the fragility of life,
the tension between animal and human,
that inner breath that refuses to die.

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« CheetahS »

They stand together, but apart.

Two complementary beings, bound by the same breath.

To shelter their feelings, they retreat from others —
not out of rejection, but to preserve the fragile symbiosis
that unites them.

Their space becomes a refuge, an intimate territory
where emotion can still settle without fear of being scratched.

Around them, the world bustles, hardens, forgets itself.

They remain there, watching.
On the lookout.

They choose withdrawal —
not to flee, but to preserve what is essential:
the authenticity of their bond, the dignity of their feelings,
the simplicity of being two in a world that no longer cares.

Observers of a universe where respect is crumbling,
where values are lost, where kindness is rare.

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"The Tiger and the Lamb"

They face each other, under the man's gaze.

Two worlds, separated by a thin, almost invisible barrier.

On one side, strength, instinct, the memory of the savage.

On the other, fragility, innocence, life barely begun.

The man observes.

He believes he is in control.

He erects walls, frameworks, rules.

But instinct cannot be trained or taught.

Silent, ready to strike at the slightest flaw.

It remains.

Without this barrier, the little one's breath
would have been extinguished in an instant.

And yet, in this suspended face-to-face encounter,
there is more than fear.

There is the reminder of what we are:
beings of flesh and impulse, governed by the same law of life.

The tiger and the lamb are not opposed.

They reveal themselves.

They remind us that nothing can truly be controlled —
neither nature, nor gentleness, nor the fire that lies dormant
within each of us.

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« Nightmare Scene »

Dreams—that vague and fragile realm—run through my work like an invisible thread.

They are never far away. They invite themselves in, sometimes imposing themselves. Every series I compose, every image I capture, seems to want to return to them, to draw something greater than the visible from them. Size: 2000 x 1352 mm I

Size: 2000 x 1352 mm

t is a broken mirror reflecting an inner world that is both intimate and universal.

Dreams are the place where my memories, feelings and stories intertwine.

In my representations, dreams become material to be created and questioned. It is not an escape, but a return. A memory that is constructed as much as it is fragmented. A dialogue between what was, what could have been, and what — perhaps — will be.

I am confronted with it every day — in my thoughts, my silences, my questions. It calls out to me, it haunts me, it guides me. It is that elusive presence that gives meaning to reality, that floating matter that I try, through images, to freeze for a moment.

Where logic twists, where emotion becomes landscape,

This work is an invitation to dive into these parallel worlds,

where everyone can recognise, in the blur of an image, a glimpse of themselves.

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‘Bird of Fire’

Size: 2500 x 1568 mm

This work symbolises flight, metamorphosis and transcendence. It suggests a form of liberation: that of freed instinct, of life regaining its place. Its name refers to the Phoenix, but also to certain spiritual figures of fire found in Asia and the Mediterranean.

‘SolitairE’

Size: 750 x 1256 mm

She flies against the tide, in a world that does not expect her.

The bat — this nocturnal creature, often unloved, always misunderstood — becomes here a mirror of chosen solitude, of marginal identity.

They are said to be gregarious, made for the colony, for shared darkness.

But some, set apart, seek space. They detach themselves, move away from the group, not out of rejection but out of a need to be — simply, sincerely.

They do not recognise themselves in the crowd, nor in the agitation of a flight that is too close.

They find their breath in the distance.

She speaks of the fragility of the individual in the face of group norms, of the need to withdraw in order not to lose oneself, of the beauty of silence when the world becomes too noisy.

In this series, the bat is a metaphor.

A metaphor for difference, for fruitful solitude, for existence outside the codes.

A being suspended between sky and night,

searching for a place to exist differently.