PHOTOGRAPHY — Agathe Toman _ painter, sculptor, photographer & poet

«A circle is never merely a shape, it is the echo of something
infinite. The moon suspended in a nocturnal abyss, the sun
dissolving into the horizon, the curvature of a mountain softened by distance. My photographs are an exploration of these primordial forms, where the roundness of celestial bodies and the undulating lines of the landscape become metaphors for time, perception, and the impermanence of vision itself.

I do not seek to capture reality as it is, but rather as it trembles, as it evades definition. My images are not fixed; they blur, dissolve, and reconstruct themselves, like memory in motion. The grain, the softened contours, the uncertain depths, these elements transform the photograph into something closer to painting or drawing, where the tangible becomes elusive, and clarity gives way to sensation.

The dominance of blue, black, and gold is not incidental. Blue, the color of vastness, of what recedes and deepens; black, the threshold of the unknown, the unspoken; gold, the pulse of light that fractures the void. These colors do not merely illustrate but resonate, they vibrate within the image, revealing the tensions between presence and absence, between the seen and the imagined.

To photograph is not to seize an instant, but to extend it, to render it porous, unstable, open to interpretation. Each image is a question rather than an answer, an invitation to perceive beyond what is immediately given.
Like the gaze adjusting to darkness, like the mind piecing together fragments of a dream, my photographs exist in that liminal space between recognition and mystery.
There is, however, an urgency in this act of witnessing. To capture these fragments of a world in suspension is also to capture the beauty of a planet in collapse, a landscape at once eternal and ephemeral, luminous yet vanishing.

Every photograph becomes a silent archive, a testimony to fleeting grandeur, to an earth that still breathes but whose pulse falters beneath the weight of time and human recklessness.
What I frame is not merely a place, nor a moment, but the quiet tension between permanence and decay, between the resilience of nature and its fragile
inevitability. The sun, incandescent and unwavering, sets upon oceans that rise; the moon, distant and immutable; the mountains, sculpted over millennia, stand still, yet the air around them shifts with the specter of change. These celestial bodies, these landscapes, bear witness to an existence that unfolds beyond us, indifferent to our presence yet vulnerable to our hands.

In this way, my photography does not only document; it mourns, it remembers, it resists. Each image is a threshold, between what still is and what is slipping away, between the real and the imagined, between reverence and reckoning.
To look at them is to sense the weight of time pressing upon the light, to feel the tremor of something at once magnificent and precarious.

And in that trembling, in that unresolved balance, perhaps we find a deeper truth, one that asks not only to be seen, but to be felt, to be understood, to be protected.

And perhaps it is from this tension, the fragility of the moment, the weight of the inevitable, that my blue paintings and sculptures emerge. From these blurred horizons, abstraction takes hold, and matter begins to shape itself. The passage from image to pigment, from captured light to sculpted form, is not a rupture but a continuation. A fluid movement from what is seen to what is felt, from the fleeting to the indelible.»