Trickster Magazine

S: It started during my final year at the Royal Academy in The Hague. I was older than most of my classmates – around thirty – so I kept thinking about ageing, femininity, and the role of women.

The project began as self-portraits, but it felt too personal. Shifting the focus to my mother felt safer – and she genuinely wanted to do it. Neither of us knew where it would lead. It became my graduation project and continued afterward.

R: I thought it was interesting from the start, even if I didn’t fully understand it. I wasn’t used to being in front of the camera, so I was nervous at first. But I got used to it, and at some point it stopped being “performing” and became something playful.

S: When you’re younger, you don’t notice expectations as much. Your youth does a lot of the work for you, and you benefit from certain things without even realizing it. Later, you start seeing how age, appearance, and behavior affect how you’re treated. At this point in my life [38], I’ve become much more aware of the roles women are expected to play.

Working in a male-dominated environment [a harbor] made that very clear. At first, I rejected anything that felt “girly,” even refusing to smile. Later, I realized that joy, respect, and ease aren’t weaknesses – they’re simply part of who you are. Letting go of that need to control how I’m perceived has been freeing.

R: I used to think I’d never change anything about my face – and I haven’t – but my perspective has shifted. Ageing can feel like losing a version of yourself.

I’m now… [should I say?]… 70 years old. But I feel like 55. There’s always pressure to look a certain way, but it doesn’t bother me too much. What I do notice is how people are starting to look more alike – those unique features are disappearing.

And here in Finland, it sometimes feels like women my age are expected to look older. I don’t agree with that. I feel young, and I’ll never start dressing like an “old person.”

R: Not really. A strong or “loud” presence can make people uncomfortable. The less you come across as loud – in any sense – the easier it is for people to label you and know what to expect.

But it also depends on how you were raised. If you were encouraged to express yourself, it comes naturally. If not, becoming visible later in life can feel like a fight – but it’s still possible.

S: I agree. If you grow up resisting norms, you eventually stop caring about others’ expectations. If you rely on validation, that need never really goes away – so it’s better to stop chasing it.

S: In the beginning, I felt pressure to make something socially meaningful because of the academy. Before that, my process was more intuitive.

Over time, my mother became central to the work – not just as a subject, but as a collaborator. Her input shapes the images. Now, after some time away from the series, I feel like our next phase will look completely different.

R: At first, Sonya led everything – I just followed. Later, I started contributing: choosing props, locations, and ideas. Realizing my input could change the final image made the process much more exciting.

R: I shouldn’t be saying this, but Sonya is my favorite [I have three children], and it’s always been the two of us. The series became a natural way to deepen our relationship – and that’s exactly what happened.

It brought us much closer. We spent so much time together and started seeing each other differently. I’m sure we wouldn’t be this close without the project.

S: It all started with random snapshots that required zero planning – just documenting her in her natural habitat. And when I say she does the strangest things… she does! [laughs]

We became so patient with each other – which we never were before.

As I was graduating from KABK, this became the main photo series I wanted to present, so the nature of it changed completely. Suddenly, I needed a more intentional, meaningful approach. Once it became more serious for me, it meant we both had to take the process more seriously – especially in how we planned each image.

As a photographer, you hold power in how you portray someone. Taking that seriously changed how we worked – and how we related to each other. We became more patient, more aware.

S: You learn to accept yourself – but also become more critical when constantly looking at yourself through images.

It brings insecurities to the surface, but I’ve also become more nonchalant about them. This is who I am, and I can’t be too bothered about ageing. The love I have for my mom – it’s in the simple things.

R: I’ve always loved myself – because who else will? But being photographed from every angle shows you sides of yourself you might not like. Still, when you feel good, you accept yourself more easily.

S: When you control how someone is portrayed, it reveals how you see them.

Early on, I made images I wouldn’t create now. I was experimenting, but also using that power in ways that weren’t always respectful. That awareness changed how I work.

Directing often means guiding emotion – I need her to feel something to create the image. It’s a balance between control and sensitivity.

R: I always trusted Sonya – she knew what she was doing, even when she didn’t. Now I speak up more.

The dynamic has shifted. There’s more mutual awareness and care – we make sure we’re both in the right mindset when creating.

S: In photography, you can be anyone. This series was about roles my mother never got to play. It’s a performance – but also revealing. It’s made me more aware of my need for control and perfection. Letting go of that is something I’m still working on.

R: For me, it’s about stepping into different characters. But as a woman, I feel mostly the same. The work is a performance – it’s not who I am.

R: Can we skip this question? Beauty matters, but women should be themselves. Society has standards, but everyone can be beautiful in their own way.

If you want to change something – why not? The real question is why you’re changing it.

S: Beauty, for me, is connected to love and being accepted as you are.

Last summer, my partner passed away unexpectedly, and it completely changed how I see myself. I lost that sense of safety. Now I’m rebuilding it – learning to be that source of acceptance for myself.

It’s an ongoing process of understanding that you are enough, even when the person who reflected that back to you is gone.

S: I see it in my mother – raising children alone in a new country, building a life from nothing.

For me, strength has come through loss. Finding purpose when there feels like none, and moving through it with grace, is incredibly difficult. It’s about choosing, every day, whether to move forward with bitterness or with gratitude.

R: Leaving my marriage and starting over in a new country required strength – but it didn’t feel like a choice. It was survival. Strength is the decision to carry on when it feels like you can’t.

S: We’re returning to the series this year. It feels like we’re different people now, approaching it from a new place.

I’ve also been wanting to make a photobook – it’s been a slow process, but it’s coming.

R: I retired last year, and now we both have the time and focus. It feels like the right moment to continue.

Photography and interview by Eva-Liisa Orupõld
Location: Recover Laboratory