Over the course of several months, I follow the journeys of five women through an immersive approach combining observation, experimental photography, the collection of personal testimonies, and writing.

This work explores the many possible forms of reconstruction after trauma. Far removed from a direct or explanatory documentary approach, I embrace a poetic and sensitive visual language that deliberately avoids literal representation. My intention is not to show, but to translate, to render perceptible inner states, fragments of memory and lived experience, and the subtle yet powerful movements of healing. Photography becomes a space of transformation, where images are built through layers, alterations, and gestures, embracing incompleteness and fragility as a language in themselves.

Murmures Indociles draws upon a range of artistic processes, handmade papers, chalk, paint, and instinctive manual interventions—to make each image a living, porous, and responsive material. These formal choices resonate with the women's journeys: marked yet moving bodies, fragmented narratives gradually reassembling themselves, and a fierce autonomy patiently reclaimed over time.

Situated at the intersection of documentary practice, intimate writing, and visual research, Murmures Indociles extends my ongoing photographic practice, notably initiated with White Mourning, a previous series inspired by my personal experience accompanying my seriously ill mother, while marking a significant new stage in my artistic development.

Photography becomes an act of listening and quiet presence, a space for symbolic repair that deepens and affirms a practice grounded in human connection and commitment.

The horse moves freely, without bit, saddle, or harness. Its consent is fundamental to the process.

It is neither a tool nor a therapeutic medium, but a sentient being, fully acknowledged within the relationship. Its presence establishes a different rhythm, inviting attentiveness, mutual listening, and care. Sensitive to human emotions, it reveals boundaries, vulnerabilities, and emerging possibilities. The horse allows proximity, touch, and guidance; the participant observes, introduces herself, listens, waits, and adjusts her gestures. Trust is built slowly, through gentleness and time.

Hands gradually warm within the horse's mane. Breath becomes visible in the cold morning air, mingling until it is impossible to distinguish one from the other.

Five anonymous testimonies, collected on a voluntary basis, extend and shift the viewer's gaze beyond the images. These texts neither explain nor illustrate the photographs; instead, they move through them like inner voices rising quietly to the surface.

The envisioned presentation of Murmures Indociles is conceived as an evolving and sensitive environment where text and image coexist without hierarchy. Prints on fabric, translucent overlays placed upon photographs, and textual fragments that remain partially visible (or deliberately concealed) invite a slow, fragmented reading that respects the intimacy of the stories being shared.