ALEXANDRA SOPHIE, FLOWER SHOWER Nathalie Colin (Translation by Richard Bridgman)
In the white dew I’m practicing in heaven —Kobayashi Issa (1763–1826)
The world through Alexandra Sophie’s lens is never motionless; there’s a rush of life everywhere you look. The artist has a way of making us want to chase the water’s flow, climb trees, and run free in the meadows alongside her female subjects, who are also driven by an insatiable desire for freedom. She extends a hand to us, inviting us to lay down beside her in the tall grass, to hold it tight, to roll around in it. It’s a sensual invitation to play with the shadows dancing over our skin. Deep within this unspoiled Eden, whether real or imagined, there’s a softness that somehow jars with the abrasiveness of the world around us. Alexandra Sophie’s images are a form of refuge, a place we can disappear into, a sacred feminine space at once fragile and powerful—and authentically female. Shot by shot, she leads us through the seasons, with a marked preference for spring and summer. We’re with her from daybreak to sunset. The ever-shifting light lends a sense of mystery to her muses’ skin and clothing, lending them a certain evanescence. This floating world we’re happy to be caught up in comes with a sacred pact: never to disturb nature when getting close to the essence of the women being photographed. Reaching through our eyes straight into our chest, the artist’s approach is poetic, melodic, and intuitive. A few clues are left for us here and there, without ever condemning us to certainty. Imagination and reverie abound in her imagery. Inference is where Alexandra Sophie really shines. There’s always room in her photographs for projection of our own narrative. Some feel purposefully nostalgic; all have a deeply modern and jolting touch. Who are the women who inhabit her world? Elf-like millennials, ethereal creatures, shamans, hippies fresh from Woodstock. Their femininity walks the line between contemporary and eternal. It’s as though they were calling on some ancient Druid or animist rite while asserting their unwavering environmental activism. With every page, we meet a woman-flower who could easily go by the name of Violet, Blanche, Rose, Bluebell, Flora, Garance, Marguerite, Lila … Something about them makes us want to follow them. 7
ALEXANDRA SOPHIE, FLOWER SHOWER Nathalie Colin (Translation by Richard Bridgman)
In the white dew I’m practicing in heaven —Kobayashi Issa (1763–1826)
The world through Alexandra Sophie’s lens is never motionless; there’s a rush of life everywhere you look. The artist has a way of making us want to chase the water’s flow, climb trees, and run free in the meadows alongside her female subjects, who are also driven by an insatiable desire for freedom. She extends a hand to us, inviting us to lay down beside her in the tall grass, to hold it tight, to roll around in it. It’s a sensual invitation to play with the shadows dancing over our skin. Deep within this unspoiled Eden, whether real or imagined, there’s a softness that somehow jars with the abrasiveness of the world around us. Alexandra Sophie’s images are a form of refuge, a place we can disappear into, a sacred feminine space at once fragile and powerful—and authentically female. Shot by shot, she leads us through the seasons, with a marked preference for spring and summer. We’re with her from daybreak to sunset. The ever-shifting light lends a sense of mystery to her muses’ skin and clothing, lending them a certain evanescence. This floating world we’re happy to be caught up in comes with a sacred pact: never to disturb nature when getting close to the essence of the women being photographed. Reaching through our eyes straight into our chest, the artist’s approach is poetic, melodic, and intuitive. A few clues are left for us here and there, without ever condemning us to certainty. Imagination and reverie abound in her imagery. Inference is where Alexandra Sophie really shines. There’s always room in her photographs for projection of our own narrative. Some feel purposefully nostalgic; all have a deeply modern and jolting touch. Who are the women who inhabit her world? Elf-like millennials, ethereal creatures, shamans, hippies fresh from Woodstock. Their femininity walks the line between contemporary and eternal. It’s as though they were calling on some ancient Druid or animist rite while asserting their unwavering environmental activism. With every page, we meet a woman-flower who could easily go by the name of Violet, Blanche, Rose, Bluebell, Flora, Garance, Marguerite, Lila … Something about them makes us want to follow them. 7
Fire and ice Ballon d’Alsace, France, 2021
Fire and ice Ballon d’Alsace, France, 2021
Country meadow the grass stuck to my elbows smells like the sun —Otsuji Ōsuga
$50.00 [USA] £40.00 [GB]