Love Stories
by Julie de Sousa
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Julie de Sousa
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On a sunny day in May, I arrived at the mysterious Grand Amour hotel, located in the 10 th arrondissement of Paris. After taking the elevator to the 5 th floor, I walked through dark hallways adorned with photographs of passionate couples and lovers, love notes, and walls covered in writings. Until that day, I had never conducted an interview in a hotel room. This ambiance transported me to another era. Free, beautiful, unrestrained, and shameless…
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This scenario was created for me and photographer Julie De Sousa by Joanna Cohen, her artistic coordinator and curator of her first exhibition New Loves: Intimate Explorations Through the Lens which took place at Discowork – a new coworking/art gallery space in Paris. It was thanks to Joanna that I discovered Julie’s work. Her photographs, full of shamanism, tenderness, and nostalgia, intrigued me greatly. I decided to interview this promising photographer to learn more about her.
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Julie, you have a particular energy – always with a sweet smile and sparkling eyes. It seems impossible not to be charmed by you. Tell me a bit about your background: where were you born, how did you grow up? What led you to pursue photography?
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I come from the Southwest, I grew up in the countryside. Not at all in an artistic family, but I always took photos. My mother used to buy me disposable cameras, and I would photograph my family, my intimate surroundings, my pets. I danced a lot for 14 years, tried all styles of dance, and eventually stuck with contemporary dance.
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When I turned 18, I moved to Bordeaux and then to Paris to study literature. At that time, I stopped dancing for several years. In 2020, I joined the dance company Du Dedans, directed by Vincent Hodin, as a performer. Initially, I was following the company as a photographer, and after attending all the residencies, I ended up doing substitutions and eventually joined the company for 2 years. As a child, I was more inclined towards a career as a dancer, but I always practiced photography as a hobby or pleasure. I had no role models and didn’t know that photography could be a profession.
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When I started my literature studies at the Sorbonne, I had a lot of free time because we only had about 10 hours of classes per week. The rest was supposed to be dedicated to research in the library. That didn’t interest me, so I continued with photography. One day, I contacted a magazine that was looking for an intern and the same day they replied. I had an interview and was accepted. That’s how I started working for Normal Magazine. After that, it never stopped. I worked for them, for studios, and as a photographer for many different people alongside my literature studies. And that’s when I realized that this is what I wanted to do.
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You photograph a lot of bodies. What is body image and why is this concept important? Why?
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I think it stems from having done a lot of dance. There is so much expression and so many things conveyed through the body when we connect with others. I photograph a lot of gestures, especially hands. I find that through the body, especially when dancing, one can express both connection and rejection, closeness and distance. It’s also about how your body takes up space and how it relates to others. This has always interested me, and aesthetically, I find it very beautiful.
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Your photographs exude desire. How did you choose this path for your artistic journey? Why nudity?
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The first time I worked for a photo magazine – it was Normal Magazine – they specialized in erotic photography. I photographed behind the scenes of large productions and observed how photographers each created their own unique universe. Nudity appeared in my work through self-portraiture. I started by photographing myself naked. It was my way of getting to know my body, accepting it, and loving it.
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Gradually, I began photographing plural romantic relationships. Love has always been a central theme in my life, and I wanted to explore it in all its facets. I think desire is often what drives us towards others. In some of my photographs, nudity serves to capture this genesis.
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After a few years, I wanted to delve deeper and question these stories beyond the beginnings of desire. I wanted to depict how relationships form, each person’s place in a multi-person relationship, feelings of jealousy or loneliness, etc.
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Your photographs have an almost shamanic dimension.
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I love that word!
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Me too. I find that the physical contact you depict in your works evokes associations with rituals or even spells. It feels like your photo sessions unfold like rituals. How do your photo sessions go, and how do you find models for your photos, models who are so open with you?
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I have a very intuitive way of working. I don’t plan, I don’t draw, I don’t think things through beforehand. For me, photography is almost a pretext to meet people, it’s what allows me to approach them, to open the door. Once you’re in the encounter, you have to adapt to the other person, go at their pace, and build together with them.
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The experiences with the models are very different. For example, I had an experience with a family with whom I spent a week. They confided many very intimate things to me. It’s interesting to see what I allow myself to photograph or not. I saw them in very vulnerable moments. They cried, they argued in front of me. When you’re faced with that, you don’t know if you have the right to take photos or if it’s inappropriate. I’ve always wanted to be in situations where everything happens with kindness, trust, and sharing, and especially not in a voyeuristic position. That’s why I need to have a very human, intuitive relationship with my models.
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Artistically speaking, I have a rather unique way of working with my models. I am there, I live with them, we talk, I fully immerse myself in their daily life. This can last a week or an evening. I observe, I take photos. If nothing happens, I create an atmosphere. I set up the frame in which I want to compose.
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For example, I might run a bath for them to join. I am there as an observer, but then they forget about me and relax. Such situations allow me to get closer to my models, to relax them, and to let them naturally abandon themselves to each other.
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When I intervene, I move the furniture, light candles, set up lights. I create a setting, and then they are free to do what they want. But it’s me who composes the frame. I work on the frame and the ambiance, and those are aspects I really enjoy.
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Have you ever photographed your friends during intimate photo sessions? Don’t you find that a bit risky? Because when you enter their intimate space, you know a lot. Hasn’t that changed your relationship with them?
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I have all sorts of experience regarding entering my friends’ intimacy. I started by photographing my friends. I would say it definitely brought us closer. We already had a very strong bond of trust. The fact of revealing such an intimate aspect of themselves to me creates an even stronger bond. But it happens over the years. These are friends with whom I’ve built a long-term relationship. I feel like I’m now part of their lives in an almost indefinable way, where it’s not clear if it’s friendship or love. I feel like I have an important place in their lives, it allowed me to access this intimacy, to photograph them, to question them, and to question myself in relation to them.
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There is a lot of sensuality in your photographs. What message do you wish to convey through this? How do these elements contribute to the artistic expression you aim to communicate? In what way do you think it enriches the viewer’s perception of your work?
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These three years of intimate exploration were a way of trying to answer both personal and universal questions. Questions posed by my co-author, Juliette Brevilliero: “What is love? Is making love the same as loving? When do we love?” Originally, when I started, I was in a form of idealization of free love. I thought, “Oh, maybe this is the solution for being happy in love: being in a form of freedom and connection with others.” And I wanted to meet many people to answer all these questions. Ultimately, I still don’t have the answers. There is no ideal love or relationship.
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The poet Juliette Brevilliero, co-author of my first book New Loves, which we published very recently, has clearly highlighted what my photography is about and what message it sends to the viewer. With her words, Juliette raised all the questions, opened all the possibilities without providing answers. I find that she adds depth to my photos, which speak more the language of desire and connection between individuals, of exploration. Her poetry poses questions: how can we live with others, how do we build relationships? When we love multiple people, does it make us impervious to jealousy, to the fear of abandonment? Do we still desire to be unique to the other? The fact that the poem poses the questions and the photos prompt reflection, I think that’s the message. An invitation to question oneself, to deconstruct our models a bit, and to journey into plural loves.
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Nudity is often used as a means to symbolize and explore human desire in all its complexity. It can be seen as an expression of vulnerability and authenticity, reminding us of our own humanity and our connection with others. The way we live our solitude can also be revealed through nudity, as it confronts us with ourselves, our most intimate thoughts, and our deepest desires. Juliette’s texts, with their emotional depth and sensitivity, highlight these aspects of the human experience. They offer a poetic reflection on the nature of existence and on how we navigate our relationships with others and with ourselves. Thus, the combination of texts and photographs creates a rich and immersive artistic experience, exploring themes of nudity, desire, and solitude in a profound and evocative manner.
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Juliette et Julie
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I wonder if I have correctly understood that your photographic studies have a very strong autobiographical basis. If so, I am curious to know how your own experiences influence your artistic approach.
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Yes, there is an obvious autobiographical aspect to my photographic work; it is almost a personal quest. It truly stems from my own life where I felt a deep need to understand how I should position myself and relationships in my life. I needed to understand where my place was as a person and as a photographer. So, it is indeed an open diary, but one that simultaneously poses universal questions. The idea is to transcend my personal story into universal questions regarding love.
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My last question for you, Julie. You just finished your first solo exhibition. I imagine it was an intense and emotional experience. Could you share with us what you felt during this exhibition? What were your thoughts, emotions, and reflections as you presented yourself so authentically and vulnerably to the public?
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I feel extremely fortunate to have been accompanied by Joanna. It is a gift for me to have such professional guidance. Then, seeing my work exhibited for the first time is a bit strange. It’s as if a part of me has stepped out of the room and is now made visible. It’s emotional.
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Thank you, Julie.
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I took the opportunity to ask a few questions to Joanna Cohen, the artistic coordinator and curator of Julie de Sousa's first exhibition "New Loves: Intimate Explorations Through the Lens."
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Joanna, tell me what you think about Julie’s photography.
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I am passionate about the images Julie creates. I am very sensitive to photography, having studied in the 90s when photography had gained its place in the world of contemporary art (I am thinking particularly of Cindy Sherman, Nan Goldin, Thomas Struth, or Nobuyoshi Araki). I love that Julie has chosen to use analog photography to capture raw intimacy.
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I have been part of the story from the very beginning when I was introduced to Julie. I became her friend and confidante, and over time, her advisor, and we became collaborators. Julie presented her project to me in 2021, on Valentine’s Day, and I found her project very beautiful. At that time, I was asking myself the same questions as she was, despite being a generation apart. I was touched by having so much in common, and it enlightened me about the universality of these romantic and relational questions. Her research, which is both sociological, psychological, and personal, interested me a lot, so I supported her in creating the book and during her first solo exhibition.
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By sharing my knowledge and Julie’s photographic ideas, we developed a very beautiful collaboration. Julie’s photography confronted me with the impossibility of finding answers: the more we question, the more questions we have, and the more we realize that it is not an absolute answer we desire, but the acceptance of our own choice. From Julie’s photos, I learned a lesson: if the questions are universal, the answers are personal, subjective, even multiple-choice.
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The subjects of Julie’s photographs are so complex that I find Juliette’s words truly take root in the questions. She does not bring ideology, lessons, or judgments. She simply asks questions. These may be very banal moments, but at the same time, they are moments of ecstasy, sweetness, smiles, laughter, happiness, and well-being. They are universal stories. The essence of humanity lies in our ability to be connected, to see, to love, and to be loved. I found that beautiful.
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I wanted to ask you a question regarding your work as the curator of the exhibition. Why did you choose a coworking space gallery for the exhibition? I find it very interesting. After all, people gather here to focus and work, and you come in covering a wall with rather frank and sexy photographs. Why this choice? What message or intention were you seeking to convey by juxtaposing these two worlds?
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It was on Meryl Benitah’s invitation that we had the opportunity to present Julie’s exhibition at the Discowork space. Meryl, a graphic designer and entrepreneur, is the artistic director of the cultural program at the coworking space. She discovered Julie’s work during another Valentine’s Day event and invited her to expose. It seemed essential to all three of us that a curatorship was done to dress such a public space – the space was never available, only during private events and by separate arrangement. I really liked this idea – a sort of protection of the intimacy of Julie’s photography.
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As a curator, I wanted to play with two main pillars. How to bring intimacy into the public space? How to bring the public into a private space? The main objective was the total immersion of the spectator in Julie and Juliette’s universe. For this, I covered all the walls and windows with a large number of images. I chose eighteen images to exhibit, taken from the book New Loves. I selected the most romanticized images, taken from everyday life, to create a bubble in which spectators could project themselves. Fourteen were analog photos of different sizes, three were images on wallpaper, and one photo was displayed in transparency on the window. In this way, we were able to create a changing visual journey. It was delightful to install the lettering and the image in the window, knowing that we were protecting the clients’ privacy while exhibiting Julie’s work. It’s a subtle game: we hide the users of the space behind Julie’s exposed intimacy. I didn’t seek to disturb the users but to vaccinate them, to habituate them to the frankness and sensuality of Julie’s work. The goal was to normalize this intimacy, to break down taboos.
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Meryl also created an audio guide that contributed to the immersion of the listener in the atmosphere (which could be downloaded using a QR code). Discowork was also a deliberate choice: choosing to enter, choosing to look. This place was an excellent decision to present the exhibition, as its operational scheme raises the same questions as those Julie poses in her photographs and that Juliette addresses in her poetry – making choices. The immersion also included the creation of a vernissage, a collectors’ dinner, a poetry reading, and videos on social media.
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Thank you, Joanna.
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