Interview
Where Science, Nature, and Thought Intertwine.
Silvia Sasso: Monochromic Stimulation
From Advertising to Art: A Journey Toward Emotional Clarity
Inspirational art directors, distinctive photographers, and visionary filmmakers teach us to observe the world with intention — to notice the subtle details and reinterpret them through our own lens. For Silvia Sasso, two decades in advertising shaped that perspective, grounding her in the discipline of visual storytelling while leaving her longing for a more personal form of expression.
That longing led her to photography.
“I held my camera and began to explore my own vision,” she recalls. “I surrendered to the emotional urgency I had felt all my life, letting go of rational selection. I stripped away my marketing mindset and started to investigate, to experiment, to communicate. Still, I preserved a sense of stylistic purity — the commitment to deliver what I envision, while leaving space for others to find themselves within it.”
Reimagining Womanhood: From Portrait to Archetype
Silvia’s journey in photography began at the ISFCI (Institute of Photography) in Rome, Italy. There, she explored portrait and fashion photography before finding her true focus: the female figure.
“I was born to be a portraitist,” she reflects. “My purpose lies in interpreting female intimacy and exploring the spirit of womanhood. I felt compelled to tell stories that express this essence. It began with studying the patterns that define femininity in social and cultural contexts — then dismantling them to reveal the pure archetype of woman.”
Gradually, Silvia’s portraits began to transcend realism. In her first exhibition, Ritratte (translated as “Portraits” or “Withdrawn”), she presented a vision of feminine intimacy detached from space and time.
“Women became fragmented in my imagination,” she explains. “Their forms intertwined with external objects, uncovering hidden relationships between body and material. Through these parallel visual dialogues, my understanding of womanhood evolved into a binary concept — one that connects the female body to the still life object.”
Interview
When did you discover photography?
My father gave me my first professional camera for my 40th birthday. That gift marked a turning point — a moment when I finally allowed myself the luxury of responding to an emotional urgency I had carried my entire life.
After two decades in advertising, I was accustomed to visual communication, but this was different. Photography became a way to express my own vision — not for a client, not for a brand, but for myself. That journey continues today.
Who inspired you most in your early days of photography, and why?
I have a deep admiration for two photographers who, at first glance, may seem worlds apart: Francesca Woodman and Tim Walker. Their approaches could not be more different, yet I draw from both.
From Francesca, I learned to explore the female body and its relationship with its surroundings — the intimacy of form and space. From Tim, I inherited curiosity for the imaginary: the surreal spaces that express emotional truth through constructed reality.
In my own work, I use both sensibilities. I investigate womanhood through recurring visual inquiries — juxtapositions that may appear irrational but are always rooted in an inherent, almost instinctive connection.
Most of your work is monochromatic. Is it difficult to maintain this aesthetic? Do you ever miss color?
When I studied photography, one of the early lessons on composition was to work in black and white. Color, we were taught, distracts from structure — from the interplay between form, space, and meaning.
Over time, delicate tones and light gradations began to appear naturally in my work. These subdued colors help me focus on the underlying message rather than aesthetic vibrancy. By neutralizing color, I neutralize individuality — making my subjects more universal.
For instance, in some of my still-life works, the apple’s variety becomes indiscernible. The visual ambiguity shifts the viewer’s attention from identity to symbolism — from what the object is to what it means.
Is there a hidden meaning in your photographs? In your black-and-white series Frozen, a woman’s head is enclosed in a plastic bag. Plastic also appears in Bouquet and Plastic Pink. Is there a broader message behind these works?
Although they differ in visual language and concept, these pieces share a common statement — a critique of artificial beauty.
In Frozen, plastic represents preservation — an attempt to freeze youth before it fades. Yet in doing so, warmth and femininity are lost. The woman remains intact, but lifeless.
In Bouquet, the metaphor continues. A woman wrapped in plastic mirrors flowers cut from their stems — radiant but disconnected from life, unable to bear fruit.
Plastic Pink extends the critique further. Here, emotion and vitality are stripped away, replaced by hollow perfection. The woman becomes a body emptied of spirit — beauty without essence, aesthetic without soul.
Let’s explore your binary concept between a female figure and a still-life object. How did they come to be?
In my exploration of feminine identity, I sought to deconstruct it.
I wasn’t only looking for visual similarities between women’s bodies and natural elements — I was searching intuitively for a mutual significance that connects them. When this connection reveals itself, I bring it to light by displaying their intimate correspondence, forming a universal entity.
It’s not just about recognizing hidden relationships — a parallel world, if you will — but about imagining that everything can also be something else, that meaning extends beyond what we immediately perceive. It’s about refusing to stop at the first, most obvious answer.
As Tim Walker beautifully said, “la nostra capacità di sognare come bambini” — our ability to dream as children do.
Do you come to a photoshoot with a clear concept, or does the vision develop organically on set?
I always arrive on set after a long period of reflection. Sometimes a project begins with a simple intuition — the need to express a feeling, a perspective, or a personal state. From there, I translate that idea into visual language.
I prepare a detailed mood board, which becomes the foundation of the shoot. Then, once on set, the image starts to evolve through collaboration — the model’s interpretation, the makeup artist’s choices, the stylist’s textures and fabrics. Each gesture adds to the composition.
So yes, I arrive with a defined vision, but it comes to life through collective creation — a balance between structure and spontaneity.
Do you intend to remain within your current style, or are you drawn to explore new horizons?
I don’t think I can decide to stay or to leave. My stylistic language evolves in harmony with the subjects I explore. It may sound paradoxical, but the strict framework of the diptych often opens the door to broader horizons — to countless interpretations of pure, intrinsic duality.
Each project requires a different rhythm and tone. I adapt the code from tale to tale, always seeking new nuances while remaining faithful to my authorial identity and maintaining stylistic consistency.
Where do you see yourself in photography five years from now?
I’m more interested in how rather than where.
In five years, I hope to remain free — free to follow my path of research and creation. If along the way someone feels inspired by my work, finds fragments of themselves within it, or simply experiences aesthetic pleasure when viewing my images, then I will have achieved something meaningful.
That — to offer a moment of reflection or quiet joy — would be my gift in life.