This article appeared in ‘Reflected Selves: Exploring Portrait Photography.’ This issue explores the intimate exchange between photographers and their subjects, revealing how identity, emotion, and connection shape each portrait. Featuring artists devoted to capturing authenticity and presence, this issue highlights photography as a shared journey—one that goes beyond the surface to preserve the essence of a fleeting moment.
Anastasia Nysten (AN): You originally studied hotel management to travel. What made you realise photography was your true path?
Marilyn Clark (MC): Yes, I thought hotel management would be my ticket to explore the world. However, I quickly discovered that all I really needed to travel was a camera. The desire to experience new places and cultures remained, but I found that photography allowed me to connect with the world in a more meaningful way.
AN: After your studies, you moved to Bangkok. What was your experience there, and how did it shape your career?
MC: My first job was in Bangkok, working in advertising photography. I loved the city—the energy, the food, and the vibrant art scene—but creatively, I felt something was missing. While I enjoyed the work, advertising didn’t fully fulfil me. Outside of my job, I started taking portraits of friends and experimenting with street photography. It was these personal projects that sparked my true passion for the medium.
AN: What led you to Paris and the decision to pursue photography full-time?
MC: After four years in Bangkok, I made the difficult decision to leave my stable job and move to Paris. I was drawn to the city’s artistic energy and knew it was the place where I could fully dedicate myself to portrait photography. It was a leap of faith, but it was the right one. In Paris, I immersed myself in the world of photography, where my creative journey truly began to take shape.
AN: How did you discover your passion for portrait photography, and who was your first subject?
MC: My entry into photography was somewhat serendipitous. It was my love for music that initially led me to concerts, where I started taking portraits of musicians. One of my earliest subjects was DJ 30D, an electronic music producer from Barcelona. After one of my portraits of a well-known techno DJ went viral, I was approached by several other DJs, including DJ 30D, who requested an abstract portrait where his face remained obscured. This marked the beginning of my journey into music photography, and from there, everything else fell into place.
AN: Your work has taken you around the world. What led you to photographing Saudi artists?
MC: My connection to Saudi Arabia began in 2018 when I was hired to document Saudi filmmakers and artists at the Cannes Film Festival. The women I met there left a strong impression on me. In 2022, a friend insisted I visit Saudi Arabia to witness its changes firsthand. I was hesitant, given how Western media portrayed the country, but I agreed to a short trip.
My first stop was AlUla during Desert X—an incredible introduction. I extended my stay from five days to three weeks, meeting artists and photographing figures like Ahmed Mater. I also connected with the Diriyah Biennale Foundation team during the inaugural Contemporary Art Biennale. A year later, I was invited to the Islamic Arts Biennale in Jeddah, where I photographed its architecture, scenography, and artists—including Muhannad Shono.
AN: How has your relationship with Saudi Arabia evolved?
MC: I keep returning. Each visit, I plan for a short stay with a few confirmed shoots, but word of mouth spreads quickly, and I end up extending. People there are open, optimistic, and eager to be photographed, which makes it a dream for a portrait photographer. Saudi Arabia has also deepened my understanding of my craft. It has taught me to approach subjects without preconceptions and to truly listen to their stories.
AN: You’re now based in Fontainebleau. How did that come about?
MC: I arrived during the COVID pandemic for an artist residency in Barbizon, a village at the forest’s entrance. What was meant to be a short stay turned into six months, and I fell in love with the place. I debated returning to city life, but the appeal of nature, space, and creative solitude won me over. I found a house with two friends—one a chef, the other a musician. One has since moved back to Paris, but the third room now hosts visiting artists, fostering a dynamic community.
AN: Has living in the forest influenced your work?
MC: Absolutely. Before moving here, 80–90% of my photography was black and white. But the forest’s changing colours—especially the morning light—drew me into colour photography. While black and white remains powerful for portraiture, nature demands colour. Living here has also slowed me down, making me more observant, both in nature and in my interactions with people. Paradoxically, slowing down has accelerated my artistic process.
AN: Your portraits capture a wide range of creative figures. How do you approach photographing different artists?
MC: Each artist presents a unique dynamic. Some, like Martina Margaux Cozzi, the Italian film director I photographed in Paris, allowed for spontaneous shots in natural light, while others, like Charles Serruya, a sculptor from Paris, required a more immersive approach. I spent two days in his atelier in Saint-Tropez, observing him at work, captivated by the interplay between his hands and his sculptures.
I first met Charles through connections in the art world, particularly at the artist residency in Fontainebleau where I live. Many of my artistic encounters stem from such environments, where relationships naturally evolve.
AN: You seem deeply embedded in the music industry. What drew you to it?
MC: Music has always been a passion. When I arrived in Paris, attending concerts was my way of integrating. I started offering portraits to musicians, beginning with French rapper Jazzy Bazz and a member of the band La Femme. That initial work led to more opportunities, and soon I was regularly photographing musicians. What intrigued me most was their sensitivity—many were initially shy in front of the camera, but through trust and connection, I was able to capture intimate and revealing portraits.
One memorable shoot was with Matthieu Chedid, one of France’s top-selling artists. I photographed him barefoot in his studio, late at night, in his pyjamas—a raw and personal moment.
AN: You’ve captured renowned figures such as Jon Hopkins, Jorja Smith, and Jungle. What are the challenges of photographing artists at festivals?
MC: Time constraints vary. For instance, with Jorja Smith at Zürich Openair, her manager gave me only two minutes before she had to go on stage. Some artists, like Billie Eilish, did not respond to release their portraits, whereas others, like Jungle, were more relaxed. I spent hours with them, even playing ping pong backstage. The experience differs with each individual—some are exhausted after performances, others are eager to engage.
AN: Did you develop this skill over time, or has it always come naturally?
MC: Living in different cultures has shaped my ability to connect with people. I’ve lived in France, England, Brazil, US, Thailand, Italy, and now I’m exploring the Arab world. Every place has taught me something new. Thailand, for instance, taught me patience. I worked in an office where I was the only non-Thai, and I had to fully immerse myself in the culture. When you work across cultures, you have no choice but to adapt.
I think curiosity is essential for a portrait photographer. If you’re not genuinely curious about people—who they are, where they come from, their journey—you won’t capture their depth. With Sumayya, for example, it could have easily become a fashion shoot if I hadn’t been curious about her essence. There’s a fine line, and it’s all in the photographer’s eye.
This shoot was special. It was the first Islamic Arts Biennale, and I captured two portraits of her that I love. The entire experience was fantastic.
Portraiture is my true love. No matter what else I shoot, I will never stop photographing people. It keeps me engaged with the world, constantly learning and evolving.
I also feel a deep responsibility in how I share my work. The Western world often has a negative perception of the Arab world, and I want to play even a small part in shifting that narrative. There is so much beauty here. In today’s fast-paced world, people miss the details. They’re driving through life at high speed, but portraiture forces you to walk, to notice, to feel.
To be a portrait photographer—or an artist, really—you need patience, sensitivity, and curiosity. You have to slow down. Only then can you truly see.
AN: Do you still shoot in analogue?
MC: Yes, I’ve recently returned to analogue photography using a 1930s camera I found at a flea market. Though it’s imperfect—slightly blurry, grainy, and speckled with dust—that imperfection is its beauty. It adds an organic quality to the images that digital photography often lacks.
AN: Your work is deeply intertwined with travel. How does that influence your photography?
MC: Travel is fundamental to my work. Every journey, whether to Mongolia or Saudi Arabia, enriches my perspective and fuels my creativity. I always carry my camera, ready to capture the extraordinary in the everyday. Photography, for me, is a way of preserving these fleeting connections and experiences.
AN: Beyond music, your work extends to various cultural figures. How do you establish rapport with your subjects?
MC: Portrait photography is as much about connection as it is about technique. Many of the people I photograph become close friends. The camera gives me an excuse to enter their world, and trust is key to capturing authentic images.
For instance, when I travelled to Mongolia, I stayed with a family near the Kazakh border. Before leaving, I asked to take their portrait at sunrise. They graciously agreed, and the resulting image captures the essence of their life—a moment of deep mutual respect and understanding.
Anecdotes:
Ali Kalthami
One of my earliest portraits from Cannes, taken at the Saudi Pavilion. It represents how I felt about Saudi at the time—curious but still stepping into the unknown. Saudi was a mystery to me then. I was hearing stories, beginning to understand the culture, but still very much in the dark.
Ali Kalthami is a film director and producer. I love this image because it encapsulates that moment of discovery.
Nina Kraviz
This one was shot at 4 a.m. Nina Kraviz is a DJ, a very big DJ. She’s known to be selective with the people who photograph her, often pushing people away. I knew this, but I really wanted to capture her.
I went to her gig, watched her play, admired her talent. I asked the stage manager if I could catch her for a portrait at the end. He laughed and said, “Good luck, honey. She’s in a bad mood today.” I smiled and replied, “Watch me.”
At the end of her gig, she was having drinks backstage. I approached her, and we bonded. Then I said, “Let me photograph you outdoors.” There was a truck nearby with its lights on. It was perfect. I took the shot right there, and that was it.
Ahmed Mater
There are two portraits of Ahmed Mater, both taken during my first trip to Saudi Arabia. He was actually the first Saudi artist I photographed. Before that, at the Cannes Film Festival, I had captured figures from the film industry—Haifaa al-Mansour, Ali Kalthami, and Mohammad Dokhei. But Ahmed Mater was the first artist I shot in Saudi, and these portraits were taken in his studio, where he was showing me his darkroom.
As a photographer, I was mesmerised. It felt like stepping into a sacred space. One of the most fascinating things he showed me was a homemade enlarger—the machine used for printing analogue photography. The fact that he built it himself was incredible. He was so proud to share it with me, and I was equally in awe. That moment created a special bond between us, not just as photographer and subject, but as two artists deeply passionate about the medium.
Photograph © Marilyn Clark.
Shadin AlBulaihed
This was taken in 2022 when Shadin AlBulaihed was assisting with the 21,39 exhibition. Since then, she has emerged as a major curator, most recently curating the Misk Art Prize. She’s definitely an up-and-coming force in the Saudi art world.
Nawaf Al-Nassar
Nawaf Al-Nassar is an interior architect and a major figure in the Saudi art scene. He was one of the founding members of the Saudi Art Council, and his influence is deeply felt. He has a beautiful energy.
Sumayya Vally
Photographing Sumayya Vally at the first edition of the Islamic Arts Biennale was a joy. She has incredible style, an intuitive sense of movement, and a natural ease in front of the camera.
Some subjects are shy, and I enjoy the process of making them comfortable. Others, like Sumayya, are already at ease, so the shoot becomes more of a creative dance. I adapt to both energies, and that’s what makes portraiture so fulfilling.
Filwa Nazer
This is one of my favourite portraits. It captures Filwa Nazer exactly as I experienced her—both in personality and presence. The shoot was spontaneous, taken at the Lyon Biennale, where I was working with the DBF team, photographing Saudi artists. I hadn’t heard of her before, but one of the DBF members insisted I see her work. I did—and I was immediately drawn in.
There was a stunning light near her artwork, so I texted her and said, “I’d love to take your portrait by your piece.” She agreed. I captured her both beside her work and by a window where the light was soft and beautiful.
Filwa has a quiet but powerful energy, and I think this portrait reflects that balance—subtle yet strong.
Mohammed Al Edrisi
Mohammed Al Edrisi is on the advisory board of the Islamic Arts Biennale and has one of the most extraordinary private art collections I’ve ever seen. He spent years in Lebanon, and I was fortunate to stay at his home during the Biennale in Saudi.
His house is a work of art itself—filled with carefully curated pieces, lit at night with warm, golden lamps, scattered with carpets and candles. It has this effortlessly inviting atmosphere, a space that encourages conversation and connection.
One dinner in particular stands out. It was during the Biennale, with guests from all over the world. The ambience he created—with music, lighting, and art—was unforgettable. This portrait was my gift to him, a token of gratitude for his generosity and hospitality.
Nouf Al Moneef
Director of Noor Riyadh. This portrait was taken in AlUla. Nouf has such elegance and style, with a natural ease in front of the camera. Her energy flows like a gentle breeze. Another portrait of her was taken in Wadi Hanifah, next to an artwork by Ayman Yusri, one that I found particularly moving.
Ghada Al Edrisi
This lady is incredible—she has over 50 rescued dogs and travels with 12 of them. When I took her portrait, they were running around her like an orchestra in motion. She looked like a conductor, completely in harmony with the chaos.
About Marilyn Clark
Marilyn Clark’s journey into photography began at the age of sixteen, when she first explored the art of black-and-white photography in the darkroom. Her early work in advertising allowed her to hone technical skills, but it was her move to portraiture and nature that sparked her true creative passion. Leaving the hustle of Bangkok, she found a new focus in Europe, where her artistic vision could fully take shape.
Collaborating with acclaimed French photographer Albert Giordan for many years, Marilyn mastered her lighting techniques while working on high-end commercial projects. Eventually, she transitioned to a solo career, where her sharp eye for detail and her love of visual elegance could flourish. Her fascination with people naturally led her to portrait photography, where she captures both the complexity and beauty of her subjects.