Photographer Indigo Lewin on the art of photographic intimacy

In the tradition of the trailblazing work of Nan Goldin and Larry Clark, photographer Indigo Lewin’s images suggest that only by searching for intimacy can we better recognise our own humanity. Touch, interlocking limbs, and tangled skin-on-skin contact, Lewin’s photography lays bare that humanity. Today’s curation of photography on social media has long since revealed that our shared moments certainly aren’t always our most intimate or our most truthful; Indigo’s imagery feels like an antidote – irreverent and universal. From her work with Saint Laurent on their inaugural publication, Fanzine to her photography capturing the Venice Biennale Danza in 2021 by director Wayne McGregor, Indi has a singular talent for capturing quiet, candid moments that celebrate the fragility of human nature and our yearning for intimate connection.

James Wright: Can you tell us about your path to practicing photography?

 Indigo Lewin: Initially, I was more interested in the art of printing than photography itself. I would repeatedly print the same black and white darkroom prints. I remember the first time I felt it came out right, and the explicit moment of realising I’d done something correctly – I found it incredibly satisfying. What drew me to photography initially though, was its inherent generosity, sort of being able to read a story through imagery.

JW: Did you assist?

 IL: I did assist a little bit when I was very young but initially I wasn’t really interested in fashion photography. 

JW: How do you define photographic intimacy?

 IL: Taking someone’s photo is essentially quite an intimate thing so I think that establishing some sort of a connection between the person taking the photograph and the person being photographed is important if you can. I definitely feel it makes a more interesting image.

JW: In your work, there is a "raw world of things feeling unfiltered, reflexive, and informal." But I would also say that your personal work has, for the most part, carried across into your commercial work, and not many people manage to do that. You retain the essence of intimacy in your work with a celebrity or in a fashion story. How does that time-old question of art versus commerce sit with you today? How do you retain the intimacy and the informality?

IL: Commercial work can be art. I used to be a lot stricter with myself; I wanted all my work, personal and commercial to explicitly translate but that’s unrealistic and constrictive. They are two different things but I think it’s important to approach them with the same levels of creativity.  I find that I have to be a lot more thoughtful in a studio.

I'm sure at the time, the work of Bruce Weber, Ralph Lauren, or Calvin Klein wasn’t considered art. But now, they’re some of the most influential fashion campaigns in photography. There’s a massive gap to bridge, and I believe that responsibility falls on the person involved in the image. There’s so much advertising I see where I think, “that girl or that guy looks really cool.” And I want to buy what they're selling. 

JW: What do you think your photography reveals about you?

 IL: I’m not sure, perhaps that I’m a curious person? I like people and think that photographs are such an interesting insight into a person. I think that’s one of the parts of my job that I value the most, the wide range of people I get to meet and work with. I don’t know where else I would meet so many amazing minds. 

JW: You said a photo can be an insight into someone by breaking down walls and leaving the subject slightly vulnerable. Do you ever view that vulnerability as something that, consciously or not, is manipulated, given that the photographer-subject relationship is a delicate one?

 IL: The way things are framed by different people says a lot about them. Not necessarily in a negative or positive way, but through the way they might “see” and how they go about capturing “that” moment. I don’t want to regard it as breaking someone down, but there’s a moment when the mask does fall. And I think that’s when you get the most beautiful side of someone. Not to sound cheesy, but that’s what makes a great image. 

JW: You’re looking to capture something, but that person might be guarding it closely. And as you say, when the mask slightly slips and they let you in, that’s when the most beautiful moments can reveal themselves.

 IL: Yes, well, it’s like we enter the situation knowing what we want to get. And I’m sure whoever I am photographing also has an idea of what they want to get. It has to be a conversation. I’m not going to get exactly what I want, they’re not going to get exactly what they want, but maybe that’s where the magic happens. And it’s something neither of us were thinking about in the first place.

JW: Your imagery sometimes captures body language as abstracted contortions of torsos or limbs. A kind of crop or composition that focuses on a part of the body as opposed to facial expressions...

IL: Aesthetically, I always find those to be more interesting. As much as a face is necessary for a certain photo, so are limbs. I find that a face presents one kind of communication, and the focus on limbs, another.

JW: Do you see yourself as a silent observer in the setting of working with dancers?

IL: Yes definitely, it’s one of those situations where my pictures are only as interesting as what’s going on around me. When I started the project I knew very little (and still don’t) about dance but realised pretty quickly that I wasn’t going to be able to capture the beauty of the actual dancing itself in a still image so moved into focusing on what is happening in rehearsals and dressing rooms - the before and after. Dancers are a special breed. The level of athleticism and creativity is really awe inspiring and I found that documenting the in-between often spoke just as loudly to their dedication as the performance itself. 

JW: Does it feel more akin to documentary work to you?

IL: Yes, it is documentary work. 

JW: Compositionally, how does working with dancers affect the way you go about taking the picture?

IL: Because everything is usually moving so fast, I don’t really have much time to consider composition, light etc. This work is more about context than concept for me, it’s about the people in the photos.

JW: Social media is always discussed ad infinitum, but when it comes to photography, I do think it’s relevant. Simply because the notion of intimacy is kind of antithetical to social media. Do you have an opinion about what the balance should look like between showing off your work to the world – because that’s how you get the job a lot of the time – or it being something for ‘yourself’ rather than a sales tool? How do you view the balance? 

 IL: I think it’s up to the individual. I am a big believer that nothing exists until someone else can see it. 

JW: Amen. I have not and will not ask you about ‘inspiration’ but if you could take one photograph or photo book to a desert island, what would it be?

IL: Alec Soth, Niagara. There’s all of the writing that makes it more compelling. These couples that ran away together and then they’re splitting up. And there’s this one letter that’s signed off, “I hate you forever,” which has always been one of my favourites. 

Follow Indigo @indigolewin

All images courtesy Indigo Lewin (left to right):
Ever Anderson for Document Journal, Barry Keoghan for Document Journal, Cover story for Document Journal feat. Georgia Palmer, Ever Anderson for Document Journal, Fionn O'Shea for The Face, Cover story for Document Journal feat. Georgia Palmer