Last year we created a series of interviews, PhotoVogue Female Gaze, to develop the theme explored during the first PhotoVogue Festival in 2016, interviewing some photographers who are part of our community. This year, as we launched our Global open call, Women by Women, our will was to create a more participatory space, where women artists could dialogue and share similarities and differences in their practices and ways of observing reality. That s why we changed the title to Female Gazes.
For its second appointment, we invited Emma Sarpaniemi and Margaret Liang for a conversation. Both Emma and Margaret use self-portraiture as a narrative method to communicate different stories and concepts. Placing their own images as the main subject in front of the camera paradoxically becomes a more transparent, direct way to distance themselves from personal experience and convey universal themes.
Putting yourself in front of a camera is always an act of trust—of giving away part of your power and control. Being both behind and in front of the lens is an act of self-determination and self-reflection.
Sarpaniemi and Liang do not shy away from their own gaze. They have created a space where they can feel at ease and challenge themselves playfully, constantly redefining their perception of themselves and the world. They investigate the reality around them and discover aspects of their identity that can only be glimpsed when viewed at a distance, captured in a photograph.
We discussed their practice, masculinity and women s bodies, the layering of meanings in their images, the power of community, and the ups and downs of being an artist.
CATERINA DE BIASIO First of all, I’d like to ask how you both developed your projects and practices. And Margaret, what’s the meaning behind the title of your project Mountain of a ___? And Emma, I know you recently had a solo exhibition called Snake Lifter. Would you like to speak about that specifically?
EMMA SARPANIEMI Yes — Snake Lifter is kind of a continuation of my self-portrait project Two Ways To Carry a Cauliflower. Some of those images were also shown in one of the earlier editions of the PhotoVogue Festival. I’ve been working on that series since 2021.
That project explores definitions of femininity through playful self-portraits. My practice is rooted in self-portraiture, and I work mainly through long-term projects. Within those, I often create mini-series — I like to take my time and dive deeper into specific themes or ideas that emerge during the process. A lot depends on what’s happening in my personal life.
Two Ways to Carry a Cauliflower actually started when I was visiting flea markets around my neighbourhood. I began collecting props and clothes that inspired me to create characters. But I don’t see them as alter egos — I really see myself in every image. It’s a blend of identity, imagination, and reality.
Color plays a huge role in my work. It’s often the first thing I think about when planning a portrait — how the colours interact, what kind of emotions they evoke.
Snake Lifter was a solo show at the gallery I work with, and it came together quite quickly. I don’t work in a linear way — it’s not like I complete a project, exhibit it, then move to the next one. I was still working on Cauliflower when I began thinking about snakes — how they shed their skin every few months.
At first, I felt like I needed to reinvent myself for the show. But then I realised I wasn’t reinventing — I was just creating new versions of myself through each character. There was also a shift in the mood of the work. Unintentionally, I began focusing more on emotions like anger and sadness. It reflected what I was going through personally at the time.
A lot of what I do happens subconsciously, and I only recognise it later when I reflect on the work. In these new images, there’s something uneasy between playfulness and sexuality. I didn’t set out to explore that — I was just angry, and I wanted that energy and stubbornness to show. Earlier on, the work was more light, colourful, and centred on props or aesthetics.
MARGARET LIANG I started self-portraiture during the pandemic, in 2020. I had nothing else to photograph, so I started photographing myself. At first, the goal was to reclaim agency over my body — especially because growing up in the U.S., I was hypersexualised and fetishised from a young age.
Nothing much came from those early photos, but in 2022, I began a new project: Mountain of a ___. That was after I’d started bodybuilding. I had been in an accident and was doing physiotherapy with weights. Then one day I saw these muscles appearing on my body, and I thought: I need to make a self-portrait about this.
So it became a long-term project. I worked on it from 2022 to 2024. I haven’t made new images this year because I’ve felt a bit stuck. Unlike Emma, I’m constantly playing out this one singular character — and that gets repetitive. Right now, I’m doing more research and curatorial work while thinking about how to return to the series with new energy.
As for the title, Mountain of a ___? — it’s a twist on the phrase “mountain of a man.” I wanted to question whether masculinity or strength is exclusive to male bodies or identities.
CDB Both of you put yourselves in front of and behind the camera — while many photographers shy away from being photographed. How do you navigate that duality? And how does your relationship with your body change when you re in front of the lens?
ML For me, a big influence was Jeff Wall’s Picture for Women, where he photographed in front of a mirror. There’s a large format camera in the center, he’s on one side, and a woman is on the other. I liked the way he constructed the image.
I also use a large format camera, and in my photos, you always see the cable release — that’s intentional. It shows the process.
At first, it was difficult. I used to shoot digitally, and that made it hard to understand what I was looking at — or who was looking at me. Eventually, I started placing a big mirror in front of myself while shooting, so I could look into my own eyes while also engaging with the viewer.
ES That’s interesting — do you use a Mamiya? The big, bulky one? I think we might have the same camera!
I’ve been shooting analog since around 2018. I started self-portraiture while studying at the Royal Academy of Art in The Hague. My graduation project was called When the Sun Goes Down We See Lemons.
Back then, I was photographing my friends. When I shared that moment with someone else, I didn’t think much about my body because it was a shared experience. We were creating a safe space together. The viewer is invited to peek into the world we were building.
Later, when I began working on Two Ways to Carry a Cauliflower, I had so many ideas I started shooting alone. But even now, I always have a friend assisting — collaboration is important in my practice.
Like Margaret, I also show the cable release in my images. It’s a symbol of control — that I’m in charge of how I’m seen. At the same time, there’s a distance. When I look at the final image, I don’t necessarily think “that’s my body” — because there are so many layers involved. I’m thinking about color, props, or performance. But self-portraiture can still make you feel vulnerable. Even when you treat your body as a character or object, there’s always a part of you in the image.
CDB Exactly — there’s this ambivalence: you re in control of your image, but you’re also vulnerable, especially as women. Society puts enormous pressure on appearance, and we can be our own harshest critics. How do you reconcile being the photographer — and wanting to share your work — with being the subject?
ML That vulnerability was hard at first. I began this series after recovering from major surgeries. So initially, I looked straight into the camera with a deadpan expression — it helped create some emotional distance.
A lot of the images are body-focused, which can be confronting. But after a few months, I started including other people in the images. It began with friends, then others reached out asking to be part of it.
That shifted things. Suddenly it wasn’t just me — it became a shared experience. And that was empowering. People surprised me — they were more intuitive than I expected.
CDB That intimacy you both spoke about — it s not about self-centredness, but about creating a space of vulnerability and connection, both with collaborators and with viewers. That process seems to free you from the limits of being just one version of yourself. The shutter becomes a kind of bridge between subject and camera. How does that closeness affect your sense of control over the image? Does it make you feel more powerful or more exposed?
ML It’s empowering. At first, it was challenging because my education was very much rooted in Americana photography — think Alex Soth or Gregory Crewdson. It was all these big male photographers with big cameras.
Self-portraiture gave me a way to step outside of that influence and carve out my own space — even if I’m still referencing people like Jeff Wall. It allowed me to reclaim agency in a more personal way.
ES Yes, for me too — it’s about freedom. It’s a way to process my emotions and reflect on the world around me.
I want my images to feel timeless. I don’t follow trends. Of course, everything has been done before, and we’re all influenced by others. But it’s important to know what kind of space you’re navigating — and how you want to do that.
People often ask what I want others to feel when they see my photos. I find that a strange question because everyone brings their own lens. I can’t control their reaction.
CDB You’ve both detached yourselves from dominant visual narratives. Let’s talk about masculinity. Margaret, your work seems to merge masculinity and femininity, creating layered tension. Emma, in your photographs, masculinity is almost completely absent — you build a world untouched by the male gaze. Would you like to reflect on this?
ES In Snake Lifter, there’s definitely a shift — I started playing with the line between playfulness and sexuality. A friend told me I was using stereotypical masculine symbols, but I wasn’t doing it consciously.
For example, there’s a photo where I put a bucket bread in my trousers — I just thought it was funny! Later, my friend said, “Emma, that’s actually quite sexual.” But I didn’t see it that way at all.
I was also thinking about performance — that I’m performing for the camera, and the camera becomes this phallic metaphor, like Susan Sontag or Miranda July talk about. But for me, there was joy behind it. Later, when I looked back, I realised the image carried many layers of meaning.
ML I’ve explored different representations — some more traditionally feminine, others more “masculine.”
One of the first images I made shows me pressing the shutter with my chest. That left a deep impression — because I’d never seen myself depicted like that.
I’ve always been uncomfortable with feminine clothing. I have long hair but don’t wear dresses or show curves. I constantly question where I land between masculinity and femininity — and I explore that in my photos.
I also draw from classical Western art — Greek statues, Renaissance paintings — to examine how femininity and masculinity are depicted historically.
CDB There’s also a strong racial discourse in your work, Margaret. From a Eurocentric Western perspective, the Asian female body is often seen as delicate or passive. When you began sharing your own body, did anything surprising happen in how people perceived or responded to your images?
ML Yes, definitely. People would ask, “Are you performing a masculine Asian woman?” But that’s just… me. Just turned up a little.
They also noticed that I was always wearing the same outfit — I hadn’t thought about that! But yeah, it’s a masculine tank top and a messy look. That came naturally — I was focused on the body and the gesture. Last year, I did an editorial in London where I wore red tights and heels — that was really different for me.
ES That’s interesting. I hadn’t noticed the outfit repetition. I always wear something different in each photo.
ML I want to get more playful with styling. But I got so comfortable in that one look. Someone even asked if I ever wash those clothes — honestly, no! I just wear them when I shoot.
ES I’m curious — when you shoot with others, do they style themselves?
ML Yes, I let them wear what they want, but I prefer no accessories. The shots are often interactive — I’m lifting people, for example — so delicate outfits wouldn’t work.
I focus more on the location and color palette. I gravitate toward pastels — pink, baby blue, yellow — colours that are soothing, which contrast the traditional idea of “masculine.”
CDB Both of you use color as a key element in your work, but in very different ways.
ES For me, color is usually the first step. I love primary colours — red, blue, yellow. If I go to a flea market, that’s what catches my eye.
In Snake Lifter, the palette shifted more toward earthy tones, inspired by 19th-century paintings. But overall, color always drives the image — I often build the whole scene around it. If I find a yellow turtleneck, I start thinking about the background, the props, how to frame it.
ML I’m drawn to baroque aesthetics — the lighting, the drama — but that didn’t fit the vibe of this project. The images with my friends needed to feel warm, intimate, not overly staged. That’s why I keep the palette soft and cohesive — mostly pastels. It’s visually soothing and intentionally contradicts the subject matter of strength and body power.
CDB I also wanted to talk about the creation of the settings. And I m asking both of you because you have a really precise and detailed way of thinking and creating your settings. How do you approach this process? How do you create your settings? And also how do you choose the objects in your settings?
ES Yeah. Well, I source everything from flea markets. So it s always this kind of treasure hunt — I never know what I’ll find. Sometimes I have a precise idea in mind and want to find a certain prop, so I search for it for months. When I finally find it, it’s such a joyful moment for me.
In the new works, I’ve been photographing in children’s playgrounds. I m really drawn to the colors and how they look, but also there s something odd about them — play happening in such a limited space. It’s a bit unsettling.
I think, for me, it also depends on where I am. I’ve done a few residencies, and of course the location influences the work. For example, when I was in Iceland, the landscape affected the photos very differently.
Sometimes I’d find a playground there and then start thinking, “Okay, what kind of outfit am I going to wear?” Or if I found a prop at a flea market, I’d think about whether I want a simpler background — because I also shoot a lot in domestic spaces, which bring a very intimate feeling.
ML So it really depends for me too. I don’t use any props — I’m very budget-oriented in that sense because each sheet of film costs around £10 now, which is horrible.
In terms of locations, I don’t really plan much. I guess I choose the room, but most of the images are taken in my friends’ apartments. Except this one time — there’s this photo of me arm wrestling a guy. It was shot in a Georgian mansion because my friend was doing a fashion shoot there. I just snuck in and took the photo.
In general, there aren’t many props in my photos. That allows me to focus more on gesture — especially how gesture reflects power dynamics, or the dynamics of collaboration or empowerment.
With my newest work from last year — I don’t know if you’ve seen it — it’s the series with the paper background. That was 100% constructed. But it was all done in my flat.
It was an interesting process for me because I’ve never worked like that before — constructing entire scenes just for a photo. It was very meditative. I used paper as a symbol of transformation, but I was also thinking about books, institutions, and the cultural canon. Also, the paper was recyclable, so the cost was basically zero — I just got it from work.
In the future, I’d like to do more studio-based shoots, where I can play with lighting and maybe work in a larger space.
CDB Photography is often seen as a solitary practice, and in your case, especially, because you re both the subject and the photographer. I wanted to ask if there are women or people you d like to acknowledge. I think that’s an important feminist practice — acknowledging those who support or influence us, even if they’re invisible from the outside. Are there people who were fundamental to your growth, both personally and artistically?
ES I need to pull up my artist references! I’m inspired a lot by painters — many of whom are no longer alive. From film, artists like Georgia O Keefe, Hilma af Klint, and Alice Neel have all influenced me.
But I think my friends have been the biggest influence. They’re the ones I talk to and share with — they’re my support system. Also, being part of an artist community has been really important, even when they’re not photographers. It’s just valuable to have that space to exchange ideas and talk about the work.
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ML Off the top of my head, Artemisia Gentileschi comes to mind — especially her painting Judith Beheading Holofernes. That was the first time I saw a painting from that era where a woman was depicted as strong, muscular, and powerful — not just as a passive, pure figure. That was a major influence, especially in terms of my ideas around masculinity in women.
A lot of my practice is also informed by Pixy Liao — I think you can see that in the color palette and my approach to self-portraiture.
There’s also Andrea Long Chu, who wrote Females. That book really shaped my thinking about gender, gender expression, masculinity vs. femininity — it’s been hugely influential.
ES Now that you mentioned your freshman years, I’m reminded of how influential Sarah Lucas was for me. Her Self-Portrait with Fried Eggs really stayed with me. I researched it a lot in my thesis — it deals with femininity and masculinity, and also self-portraiture.
And of course, Cindy Sherman — though for her, self-portraiture is more about alter egos than exploring her own identity. It was interesting to research why she was taking those images. That became important to me during my bachelor studies.
Also, Agnes Varda — I love her films and the way she sees the world, with this playful perspective. Definitely an influence.
CDB Do you have any tips or advice for young women who want to get into photography or work in this field? Practical advice is also welcome — maybe challenges you didn’t expect, or things you wish someone had told you early on.
ML I think I wasn’t prepared for the times when you just can’t make work. It happens. So it’s helpful to have something else in your life besides just making art.
I also work as a fitness coach and curate exhibitions — so if creativity dips, I don’t fall apart. It’s important to be gentle with yourself when those phases come. They do pass.
ES Yeah, I’d say: enjoy the work. Have fun with it. Be playful.
If you approach your work only with the goal of success — like getting into certain exhibitions or hitting certain milestones — you can lose touch with why you’re doing it in the first place.
When I started, it was purely for the joy of it, and it still is. Of course, I have goals, and I think it’s important to be determined and strategic — but the motivation should come from the work itself.
If you re always focused on where you want to be, you’ll never feel like you re there. And that can be really draining.
Also, having a community — people you can share ideas with — is essential. Because yeah, making work can be lonely sometimes.
