The photographer, the sitter and the gaze

Each of Ilya’s portraits is an exploration into the human condition – an empathetic lens cast over the fabric of a life, drawing out the delicate threads of memory, identity, and silent resolve. His work leans into the unguarded moments, those subtle fractures in our daily masks where the truest self can breathe. It is in these quiet revelations that the essence of his subjects find their voice, unencumbered by pretense.

Crafting contemporary photography portraits: The cinematic art of identity.

In 1999, Liliane decided to step into the market with her own creation: a doll villa that reflected both her vision and a desire for distinction. She approached the challenge with remarkable decisiveness. Rather than testing her idea on a small scale at a local toy shop, she wrote directly to De Bijenkorf, the iconic Dutch department store—a gesture that, on the surface, seemed audacious. Yet fortune has a tendency to favor those with quiet conviction. To her astonishment, a response came the very next day. Not only were they interested, but they also wanted a villa for every branch of their chain. Liliane’s dream had been validated in a way she could scarcely have imagined. And so, history unfolded, though perhaps not in the manner of grand parades or momentous announcements. It advanced in the steady rhythm of small but extraordinary triumphs—the kind that, upon reflection, turn out to be life’s most significant markers.

This family scene quietly captures the evolution of relationships across generations. At the center, a grandmother holds an object of significance, surrounded by curious children, while adults stand watch, a mix of joy and reflection on their faces. It’s a moment where life’s seasons overlap: the young discovering, the middle-aged remembering, and the elderly anchoring the narrative of time. As life unfolds, ties stretch but rarely break. We raise children who soon grow independent, while our parents quietly age, shifting roles from guides to those needing guidance. In these rare gatherings, we feel time’s gentle weight—moments to cherish before they slip away. The true gift of family lies here: in togetherness, memory, and the fleeting yet profound blessings of shared time.

The close up. It is an invitation into the complex geographies of a life. Here, we come face to face with every scar, every nuance of muscle tension that speaks of trials endured and lessons learned. Such images transcend the merely aesthetic, nudging us to reflect on the extraordinary softness and strength that humans can hold simultaneously. A close-up portrait whispers that resilience is not a distant ideal, but rather a lived reality—written into our features, and made visible when the lens dares to look uncomfortably close.