Neither full fledged portfolios, nor incidental images, these are the photographic equivalents of short poems.

As visual poetry is already used to describe poetry where the visual arrangement of text, images and symbols is important in conveying the intended effect, I had to choose another name for my visual poems. I named them 'photo poems'.


Dancing as a dialogue. Between black and white. Between body and mind. Between the dancer and the costume. Between the dancer and its reflection. Most of all, an opportunity to let the body speak. Without words. This poem tells the story of a dancer who at the age of 17, a shy girl who disliked her body (and how many girls at this age love their looks?) met a dance belly dance teacher who changed her world. Now, years later, she is teaching women of all ages to free their bodies,  love them, love themselves.

Fire dance in seven movements

April 21st, 2015.Our last night in Kadoyde, Japan. To celebrate the end of our stay, Kobayashi, our host prepares yet another surprise. A sky lantern. He holds the large paper lantern while someone lit the fire beneath it. For a few seconds, all seems well. Then slowly, the lantern catches fire, and its shape disappears while its spirit emerges. The shapes created by the fire brought to mind the words of Constantin Brancusi, the famous Romanian sculptor: This is my version on the spirit of the fire dance

"When you see a fish you don't think of its scales, do you? You think of its speed, its floating, flashing body seen through the water... If I made fins and eyes and scales, I would arrest its movement, give a pattern or shape of reality. I want just the flash of its spirit"

This is my version on the spirit of the fire dance.

Homage to Degas

Summer. A bit wind plays with the seed heads bouncing them around. Making them dance. Alone, in couples, in triplets. For the next week I read, breathe and live Degas. Hundreds of images later, "Solo", "Pas de deux" and "Pas de troi" are born.