Anouk Hart—
The Sculpture of Stillness
There is a rare calm in Anouk Hart’s world—a precision that feels less constructed than distilled. Hart’s work moves fluently between disciplines—fashion, art direction, and photography—yet her images exist in a realm all of their own. Maison Ë wanted to learn more about Hart´s work and met the artist for an interview.
(Multidisciplinary) From her Amsterdam studio, where her in-house gallery doubles as a sanctuary of experimentation, Anouk Hart sculpts with light and silence. Her photographs—celebrated in Harper’s Bazaar, Rika Studios Paper, Mirror Mirror, Elle, and L’Officiel—are meditations on form, texture, and shadow, studies in how restraint becomes expression and how stillness can carry emotion.
Her collaborations with Maisons such as Repossi and Bibi van der Velden further reveal Hart’s ability to translate quiet refinement into visual poetry—where craftsmanship and concept meet in perfect equilibrium.
Through layered imagery, Hart plays with depth and distance, drawing us into a world where perception becomes seduced. By carefully manipulating each layer, she challenges our trust in what we see, blurring the line between reality and illusion. Her work reminds us that vision is never absolute, and seeing isn’t always believing.
Echoes of the Past
Echoes of the past drift like tides,
moments shaped by water, memory, and time.
What once was lingers in shades of black and white,
inviting us to pause, reflect, and carry our own echoes forward.
MAISON Ë You grew up between Asia and the Netherlands, and later studied in Paris and Amsterdam—these are all places with such distinct aesthetics. How have these contrasts shaped your sensitivity to light, texture, and silence?
Anouk Hart Growing up in Asia, I was surrounded by different cultures and kinds of light. As one of the first expat kids in places that weren’t yet touristy, I experienced these calm, quiet, beautiful environments. That made me pay close attention to detail, to materials, to textures. Whether it was coconuts on a tree or a snake in the garden—everything fascinated me.
In Paris, I learned to really look at architecture and the history behind buildings. I became fascinated by how light falls on structures and creates depth. I think you can see that in my work: I build layers in a way that’s almost like an architect creating depth through different levels. That’s quite recognizable in my artworks. Paris is also where my fascination with fashion took root, and it has remained an essential part of my practice ever since.
M.Ë You began in fashion design and management, before transitioning to photography. What does photography give you that fashion couldn’t?
A.H. What photography gives me that fashion doesn’t is the freedom to observe and create independently. At the same time, I value collaboration and working with a team. My fashion background is still very present: I see garments in a sculptural way, almost as art objects, and that sense of form and texture continues to shape my photography.
M.Ë Your photographs often feel like sculptural objects—carved rather than captured. When you compose an image, what guides you first: emotion, geometry, or instinct?
A.H. Instinct comes first—but it’s instinct shaped by geometry and emotion. I don’t usually start with a fixed plan. Instead, I respond to how the light falls, how a fabric bends, how a gesture creates tension. Later, I go back and refine it with precision, almost like carving.
M.Ë You’ve described your fascination with form, texture, and shadow. How do you decide what remains in the light and what dissolves into darkness?
A.H. I often make the person in the image more anonymous—by turning them away or letting shadow cover their face. What remains in the light are forms and textures that draw the viewer in; what dissolves into darkness are the details that I want to leave open to interpretation. It’s a way of inviting the audience to look twice, to build their own narrative.
“I hope we’ll crave images that invite us to pause—
that ask us to feel rather than simply consume.”
M.Ë There’s a serene tension in your work—a sense that time has slowed, yet the image hums with life. How do you cultivate that stillness?
A.H. I think it comes from my use of black-and-white photography, which carries a lot of depth. I often place a large white passe-partout around the image to create a kind of viewing box, drawing the viewer inward. The images almost pull you in, and that requires a certain stillness—a pause—to truly understand what you’re seeing and to discover your own story within it.
M.Ë Could you describe your working ritual—how a day in your studio unfolds, from first light to last frame?
A.H. My artworks often begin with a single image. As I study it, I start to see lines and abstract shapes—echoes of past creations—that I can bring in to complement and interact with it.
M.Ë What draws you to certain materials, textures, or surfaces? Do you find yourself collecting objects purely for their potential to catch the right light?
A.H. I have a deep love for abstract objects and garments. In my work, form is essential, and I’m drawn to materials that transform.
M.Ë “Quiet luxury” has become a cultural shorthand for refinement, subtlety, and restraint. Does that idea resonate with your creative and private philosophy?
A.H. In my work, I look for refinement by keeping things subtle—allowing space, silence, and detail to carry meaning. Luxury becomes quiet when it doesn’t need to declare itself, when its essence is felt rather than shown. In my private life, I value the same: timeless objects and natural materials.
M.Ë What kinds of images do you hope we’ll crave in the next decade—as our visual world grows ever louder and faster?
A.H. I hope we’ll crave images that invite us to pause—that ask us to feel rather than simply consume. Work that lingers slowly, like an aftertaste or an echo, instead of just a flash.
Stillness
A staircase rises, echoing the climbs we make.
At its height, the figure leans toward the earth—
a gesture that can be read as release, or as reflection.
Between ascent and pause, the work leaves space for new meanings to unfold.
In Anouk Hart’s universe, light is a language and stillness its syntax. Each photograph holds the precision of sculpture and the emotion of breath—moments distilled to their purest essence. Her lens transforms the tangible into the transcendent: a fold of silk becomes landscape, a gesture turns architectural, a shadow hums with life. What remains is not spectacle but presence—an invitation to see, to pause, to feel the quiet opulence of attention. Through her work, Hart reminds us that true luxury is not in what is added, but in what is refined, restrained, and profoundly seen.