I Confess by Ingrid Horsselenberg - Tipi bookshop
I Confess by Ingrid Horsselenberg - Tipi bookshop
I Confess by Ingrid Horsselenberg - Tipi bookshop
I Confess by Ingrid Horsselenberg - Tipi bookshop
I Confess by Ingrid Horsselenberg - Tipi bookshop
I Confess by Ingrid Horsselenberg - Tipi bookshop
I Confess by Ingrid Horsselenberg - Tipi bookshop
I Confess by Ingrid Horsselenberg - Tipi bookshop
I Confess by Ingrid Horsselenberg - Tipi bookshop
I Confess by Ingrid Horsselenberg - Tipi bookshop
I Confess by Ingrid Horsselenberg - Tipi bookshop
I Confess by Ingrid Horsselenberg - Tipi bookshop
I Confess by Ingrid Horsselenberg - Tipi bookshop
I Confess by Ingrid Horsselenberg - Tipi bookshop
I Confess by Ingrid Horsselenberg - Tipi bookshop
I Confess by Ingrid Horsselenberg - Tipi bookshop

I Confess by Ingrid Horsselenberg

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This is a long-term project, still going. It moves through the end of a marriage and what came after — not as one story with a clean arc, but as five separate bodies of work, each shot differently, each closer to a diary entry than a chapter.

It opens on a family sculpture, a group holding each other like one solid piece of rock. Before Before follows in black and white: Horsselenberg naked, upside down, embedded in her own surroundings, searching for something to hold onto amid the loneliness, chaos, and fear of a life about to change. Frontals slows down — quiet walks, silence, the sculptural and frontal forms that run through her work, a return to calm. Abundance started as a straight self-portrait trip through Sardinia on film, shot in remote landscapes, isolated and raw. The negatives disappointed her, so she scanned and enlarged fragments instead — and at some point photographed her own computer screen by accident. The moiré pattern that came out of that mistake stayed in the work: something spiritual, free, otherworldly, shifting between figure and pure abstraction, both raw and full of bliss.

The last two chapters open the lens past the marriage itself. Aunties is her mother and her mother's two sisters — the women who raised her while her father worked away. The pictures don't ask whether their influence was good or bad; they sit instead with the harder fact that trauma gets passed down without anyone choosing it, and that the way through is to find your own path, to forgive, even to feel gratitude for who they are. She photographs them as if in a dream — strange, powerful, and fragile all at once. This Is (Not) a Family Album closes the book with years of iPhone photos of her children — ordinary snapshots, cropped, enlarged, rephotographed until they pixelate, until the family album stops looking like one.

Five chapters, five different ways of working: an analog camera for the self-portraits, a phone for the family pictures, a scanner and a screen for the accidental glitch in Abundance. Nothing is smoothed into one consistent look on purpose.

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