Myriam Aadli

I have never photographed my children to hold them still. I photograph them to accompany their movement. All these images are taken on my phone, in the moment—unstaged and unposed. They are fragments of our days: a face in water, an arm lifted, the quiet disorder of a table, O’Malley stretched in the light. I ask nothing of them; I am simply there. I observe and capture what passes.

We raised them with a deep respect for freedom of expression. To speak, to question, to disagree, to feel fully—everything has always had its place. I chose this path in their education: to conceal nothing, to disguise nothing. In our home, emotions circulate freely. Vulnerability is not a weakness, and words are space. I watched them enter adulthood almost imperceptibly. It does not happen in a single moment; it settles gradually, in the steadiness of a gaze, in a decision made without hesitation, in a commitment that becomes entirely their own.

Before, and especially after the sudden loss of my parents—who were so present in their upbringing—something shifted. We do not speak much about death; we live with it. It is the only thing we celebrate in silence: their absence, transformed into a quiet strength beneath everything. My parents continue to exist in their values, in the way they inhabit the world, and in their insistence on sincerity.

O’Malley belongs to this story as well. He was found as a kitten during a sandstorm in Africa—fragile, dust-covered, and improbably alive. He grew up alongside them, crossing borders, making departures and returns—a discreet witness to our intimate geography.

They are everywhere now: abroad, travelling the world. Each year at Christmas, I print an edition of who they are becoming in Polaroid format. I place the photographs in a box they have kept since early childhood, a tangible archive of their transformation, a quiet record of their becoming. In my mind, each of them has, in their own way—before, and especially after those abrupt losses—chosen to celebrate life. Not noisily, but through commitment, through awareness of time, and through the intensity of being present.

Myriam Aadli (b. France, 1967) has spent over three decades developing a photographic practice rooted in humanism, emphasising encounter over extraction. With training in cinematography from ESEC Paris and the Actors Studio in New York, Aadli's multidisciplinary background in theatre, painting, and cinema influences her photography. Her works are featured in private collections and in international magazines such as Géo and ISP Magazine. In 2025, she won First Prize in Street Photography at the Fine Art Photography Awards for "A Thread Between Two Worlds." 

Batsceba Hardy and Ornella Mazzola stated: "This project represents an incredible journey that is continuously evolving and expanding. Despite being in its current stage, it already incorporates a rich array of ideas and concepts. and captures silent, poetic, and emotionally charged fragments of everyday life. These moments are intricately woven together, inviting viewers to reflect on the beauty and complexity of ordinary experiences. We are eager to see how it unfolds and transforms in the coming months and years, as each new development adds depth to its overall narrative. "