This is where I was born and raised. As a daughter of an artist, designer, and photographer, I was surrounded by aesthetics from an early age. Cameras were always part of my world - yet I only began to truly see much later.
An illness forced me to pause — and led me toward a deeper connection with nature and with myself. In a world shaped by speed and distraction, I began to notice things more consciously again: the scent of trees, the light filtering through the branches, the cool forest floor beneath my feet. Things that are always there, yet so easy to lose touch with.
On my walks, I started bringing my camera with me more and more often, and slowly began to see my surroundings through new eyes. I seek perspectives that free the familiar from cliché and create space for new ways of seeing. With this renewed closeness to nature, my connection to photography deepened as well. Traits long perceived as weaknesses revealed themselves as strengths: my sensitivity, my dreamlike nature, and my intuitive feeling for moods and subtle nuances.
Photography teaches me patience and, above all, surrender. In nature, nothing can be forced — not the light, not the moment, not the presence of a wild animal. The strongest images often emerge when I let go of control and fully immerse myself in the present moment.
At sporting and cultural events, I am less interested in the spectacle itself than in what happens in between: the tension, the energy. Through blur and light, I try not only to capture scenes, but to make atmospheres visible.
Beyond alpine nature and social events, my experimental visual language also translates dancers and flowers into fleeting, painterly works. Body and blossom become expressions of energy and rhythm, allowing the boundaries between humans and nature to blur. Water carries this exploration further, becoming a symbol of change and the cycles of life.
Photography has become a way for me to reconnect: with the moment, with myself, and with the things that are so easily overlooked in everyday life. I am drawn to unfamiliar perspectives on the familiar — and to the quiet layers that lie beneath the surface. What changes without being lost. What appears separate, yet belongs together.
Iris Dahan
