Sometimes it’s in the simplest, the most minimal, of surroundings where I find me photographing at my best.
The places like this, those that are off in the middle of nowhere and don’t even have a name. Where there’s lots of snow, there’s so much snow, there’s that cloudy sky that blocks the mountains—there are mountains out there, two-thousand-meter-high mountains—and turns the horizon into an indefinite line so weak it could be blown away with the next gust of wind.
These places bring out some sort of style, and I love this picture as the perfect representation of that. There’s nothing there, nothing yet something. Just the white of the snow and the white of her dress and that warm winter glow of her pale skin and lipstick.