It very rarely happens that I meet someone who naturally embodies the essence of my art. It happened with Domenique. She was my friend but became my muse, something very honorable for a person – and for an artist as well. It is like a love affair, but only through the creativity. Platonic of course.
Domenique is and has been unavailable for our collaboration for many years. Her life is entangled in various destructive elements and now it’s not even possible for me to see her anymore, even though she’s only two hours away.
I am a portrait photographer – I love to explore the edge between fiction and documentary and concepts like identity and sanity through my pictures. I haven’t been an active photographer for almost 7 years since I had to sell my camera to buy a better computer for my digital art.
When Johnny got me the Canon camera for my birthday, all these new ideas popped up in my mind. I could do this, I could try that. But I have no model. No muse.
from our collaborations:
And then it happened. I saw her entering the room. A new girl. A new possible muse. She was perfect. My “artist heart” was in love. I learned her name, we chatted for a while and I felt like a predator about to go after her grey at any moment. But I don’t know how to approach her with my visions. I want to take her photo. I want to make her my muse.
I have to come up with a good plan so I won’t scare her. Being a muse is a privilege but it’s an intimate relationship between the artist and the model, actor or whomever might trigger the art nerve. It is so much about trust and a shared intuition. Ingmar Bergman had many muses – he called Liv Ullmann his Stradivarius.
I will let you know when I’ve dared to ask her to pose for me – and if she would be comfortable to work with me. If not, she’ll always be the muse that got away.