Black, White and All The Shades In-between: Anarchyº2

© Ezra Petry / @Souloxidization

It is well known how the simple gesture of taking a picture can be imbued with significance, almost leading to an always repeating ritual entirely consumed by a triangle constituted by the photographer, the object and the viewer.

But what happens when we take this very strong visual language and strip colors out of it, leaving lights and shadows, the very essence of black and white, to speak for themselves while telling stories of nature and humanity blending together to reveal the inner wilderness of this world?

© Francisco Gonzalez Camacho / @Frangccom

I found the answer in Ephemere gallery's desire for exploration of black and white photography that is slowly translating in the Anarchy book series, now reaching its second issue, Anarchy°2.

Building upon the success of Anarchyº1, the purpose of the second edition is to continue the journey of this deep dive in monochrome by Anne Murayama, founder of Ephemere.

The open call “Black and White”, focused on monochromatic shots without imposing a specific theme, led to Anarchy°2 featuring 143 photographers from across the globe, showcasing a diverse range of styles and themes in monochrome.

Seeking a wider perspective, Anne invited four guest curators, each with an unique point of view and put them in charge of discovering exciting new work:

Cécil Baldewyns – a self-taught Belgian photographer with over fifteen years of experience, specializing zed in black-and-white self-portraiture, IG: @cecilbphotography

Guido Gazzilli – an Italian photographer whose conceptual work explores identity and everyday life through deeply personal narratives, IG: @guidogazzilli

Joe Grant – with over fifteen years of mountain running experience, his photography reflects a deep connection to nature, capturing the timeless beauty of the wild, and remote places, IG: alpineworks

Susana Barberà – an award-winning documentary and street photographer known for her striking black-and-white images. IG: @susanabarbera

Designer Federico Zavatta returned to shape its visual identity giving aesthetic continuity across the editions. IG: @fedzav7 

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There is something sacred in black and white that lingers, slowly becoming a ritual.

© Jessica Gerard / @Jessica.g.rar

When I first went through the pages of Anarchy°2, I wasn’t just drawn by the absence of color, I was drawn by what this absence creates: space.

Space to witness. Space to imagine. Space to disturb the order.

© Gerasimos Platanas / @Gerasimos_Platanas

Here, monochrome photography isn’t just a stylistic choice but an invocation, able to reveal more by showing less. It allows the viewer to slip into a world where time falters, where the body and landscape blur, where myth feels more truthful than fact.

Each frame that truly stayed with me, was a quiet act of unspooling with memories, sensations, and visions that live somewhere between the light and the shadow.

These aren't just images. They’re fragments from something ancestral, something wild and half-remembered.

© Colette Saint Yves – @colettessaintyves

There’s an undercurrent in Anarchy°2 that feels almost ceremonial. An accidental synchronicity between artists, as they were all unknowingly pulling threads from the same dark tapestry: ritual, erasure, rebirth. The human form deconstructed. Nature, not as scenery, but as a fellow protagonist.

© Billy Kenrick / @Billy_K

In the stark contrast of black and white, hierarchy crumbles. Light holds hands with shadow. Structure invites collapse. When there’s order, anarchy always follows.

© Monique Belier / @Monique_Belier_Photography

Witnessing this global chorus of visionaries feels like entering a shared rite. One that keeps evolving, fracturing, reforming. Like a new kind of spiritual iconography. Like remembering something you were never taught but always knew. 

To expand on the themes explored in Anarchy°2, I invited some of the selected photographers to reflect upon their process and practice. From rituals of creation to thoughts on visual chaos, here’s what they had to say:

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Do you have a ritual as a photographer? Can you describe it to us?

Monique Belier:
I wouldn’t call it a strict ritual, but before I shoot, I try to slow down and connect with the space or the person in front of me. I look for a certain energy or tension. I usually shoot when something feels slightly off or emotionally charged—I follow that instinct. Sometimes silence is part of it, and sometimes music, or letting things fall apart a bit. I like when the unexpected shows up.

Francisco González Camacho:
I don't have a ritual per se, I am in fact quite against them. I think it is more about staying in some sort of creative flow, openness and appreciation for details, regardless if I am actively taking pictures or not. There are periods where I don't touch a camera in months, or others where I can produce a lot of material in a small window of time.

Ilaria De Benedetto:
I would say that I am one of those people who needs to have everything clean and organized before starting to work. I believe that creative work is somehow destructive and generative at the same time, and this process requires having an organized space that allows you to empty and fill your mind. I make sure to have everything clean and tidy, and then I write what I need to get done that day, every day. Then I can start working.

Jessica Gerard:
I don't have any particular ritual, it depends on my mood and the project.

Billy Kenrick:
Each project generates its own set of rituals, depending on the scope and format of the work. This will vary and involves certain distinct limitations. Some of the consistent elements of my practice are: the selection of specific photographic formats for a project; the revisiting of locations over time; an exploration of types of processing and printing; the organization of materials (negatives, test prints, artist books); and a protracted period of engaging and disengaging with the work, until it finds its own form. I try to resolve work in some printed, physical format—otherwise there is no end to the process.

Ezra Petry:
To me, the whole process of analog photography is a ritual made out of small rituals that lets me calm the mind. Especially with fully manual cameras. It begins with cleaning the lens, then loading the film and letting yourself flow while walking without destination. The developing process is also multiple steps that go along the way of it—unloading and spooling the film blind, the ritual of agitation, rinsing, hanging to dry, inspecting and even the scanning.

Gerasimos Platanas:
Depending on the occasion and the type of photography, i.e. whether it is a portrait or nature photography. Certainly, when I photograph I immerse myself in a magical intensity. A kind of ritual can be the creation of a certain emotional and mental atmosphere before the photograph. Personal isolation from external factors helps with this.

Colette Saint Yves:
I don’t know if I have a ritual but I mostly take photos outdoors. Sometimes I plan a little my shoots especially when photographing loved ones, but more often, I let things unfold naturally and honestly. Most of my photo shoots don’t go as expected, and in the end it’s more enriching and inspiring. I enjoy being surprised by the light and the atmosphere around me. Maybe my ritual is to be focused and simply not forget to bring more than one roll of film.

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How much does anarchy matter and resonate with your work?

Monique Belier:
To me, anarchy means freedom—from rules, from how things are supposed to look. That matters a lot in my work. I’m drawn to rawness, to bodies that move outside of control, to places that are overgrown or imperfect. I don’t try to “fix” or clean things up in my images. I want to let things be wild and emotionally real.

Francisco González Camacho:
It really does, as I like to work independently and to not respond to anyone. I am still open to collaborating for specific projects, but I personally relate to the creative process as something anarchic and isolated.

Ilaria De Benedetto:
Anarchy is a topic that I feel very close to. Beyond the political meanings that could be given to the term, anarchy means freedom, going outside the rules, and it is something that I look for a lot in my work. Anarchy means going beyond the margins, looking beyond, questioning—key elements of the creative process.

Jessica Gerard:
Anarchy in its broadest sense sometimes has a negative connotation, meaning disorder and chaos. Personally, my practice thrives on chaos, doubt and randomness. For me, the title of the edition refers to freedom and the collective. So it's rather a positive thing.

Billy Kenrick:
Art practice is ideally anarchic insofar as it is an autonomous process that creates and defines its own space, without any overt external constraint or mandate. Additionally, this involves operating in spite of or contrary to existing dominant pressures and constraints. I identify with the concept in this regard.

Ezra Petry:
Anarchy resonates a lot because it is liberating to be able to do all of the above on your own and introduce others to it. The outcome also is not always what you thought it would be and yet still interesting or suggestive at least.

Gerasimos Platanas:
Anarchy is an ideal so that every person can express and feel freely without limits. On the other hand, there is no artist who has not set his own limits.

Colette Saint Yves:
I like the idea that resonates. I prefer disorder over order, the idea that we are our own arbiters. Making mistakes is just part of life, like a little bit of chaos.

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Tell us about the image featured in Anarchy°2. What’s the story behind it, and why does it speak to you?

Monique Belier:
This image happened in a kind of in-between moment. We were in an overgrown spot, and the person I was photographing moved in a way that felt almost animal—like he was giving in to the earth. There’s something tender and strong in that. It’s not posed. It felt like a release, a physical reaction to something deeper. That’s what I look for. It speaks to me because it’s not clean or composed—it’s full of feeling.

Francisco González Camacho:
This image was taken during an artist residency on the remote island of Kökar, Åland. These two trees automatically called my attention—their perfect alignment, the collapse—made me think about impermanence and futility.

Ilaria De Benedetto:
That photo is part of an unfinished project where I tried to investigate the discrepancy between reality and the perception of it. Many experiments, including this image, focused on the distortion of forms through various elements, including water—searching through the lens for an error that somehow distorted reality.

Jessica Gerard:
The photo was taken at the “Día de Muertos” event in Brussels. The aim of this celebration is to honor our dead. For me, this group of drummers with the smiling faces of the dead invites us to celebrate and enjoy life, despite its ephemeral nature. The photo is taken from my November series on darkness and light, the idea of cycle, ephemerality, death and rebirth.

Ezra Petry:
The image is part of a series I took in Bremen, Germany last year. I often shoot by gut and imagine how something could look without really thinking. I took a few shots and was very happy about the ethereal qualities of this one in particular.

Gerasimos Platanas:
It is a self-portrait, created in 2020 in my room. I don't think there is any story behind the image... it was an act of creation at the given moment.

Billy Kenrick:
This image is from a book project called Lockdown Blues published in 2021. It comes from a set of images created when activity and movement were severely controlled and restricted. I was stuck in my hometown for a few weeks and was able to shoot a certain amount of work within these circumstances.

Throughout this period, I was also fogging and partially destroying each roll of film I made. It also reflects the limitations of the documentary element of photography, emphasising a more fragmented and less controlled approach. I worked through this material afterwards, creating a sequence and layouts for the book. The idea was to work with whatever was left; a partial image or a texture can be just as beautiful or interesting as a more legible image. The featured image is the central spread of the publication; it also exists as a risograph edition.

Colette Saint Yves:
This photo was taken in autumn. I remember the air was cold. My niece, who’s been one of my favorite subjects since she was a child, must have been around twelve then. We had brought along a peacock feather, and as she held it in front of her face, something transformed. There was an uncanny sense, like a mysterious creature caught between worlds. I really loved how it looked to the naked eye, and I thought the photo might capture that same strange, almost surreal effect.

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When you work in black and white, what do you feel is gained, or lost, in the process?

Monique Belier:
Black and white helps me focus on emotion, gesture, and light. It removes the distraction of color and brings the raw elements forward—texture, skin, tension. What’s lost is maybe some context or warmth, but what’s gained is honesty. It gives space to the viewer to feel, rather than just look.

Francisco González Camacho:
I definitely gain more than I lose—even though I’m subtracting. Black and white brings me closer to abstraction, which is where I want to arrive. I'm not interested in photographing reality in a straightforward way. Black and white accelerates that process, which continues evolving after the capture through varied materials and techniques.

Ilaria De Benedetto:
Black and white is interesting because it allows you to see reality differently. When I look at a roll of black and white film, I’m always amazed. It lets me perceive the world with a nostalgic touch, as if it had a hidden face visible only without color.

Jessica Gerard:
For me, black and white reveals a more mysterious and sometimes more radical reality.

Billy Kenrick:
Black & white, for me, is tied to the specifics of film—its restrictions and limitations—and involves a simplification of sorts. It is less descriptive & has more to do with absence. The meaning has as much to do with material processes as it does with images. It is a deviation from dominant modes of representation that favours clarity & legibility over ambiguity or dissonance.

Ezra Petry:
Black and white gains focus and leads to more single-frame storytelling. It’s less distracting. What you lose is the vibrancy and beauty of our perceived light spectrum—something I explore more in candid photography like live concert documentation.

Gerasimos Platanas:
You don't win or lose, it's simply a matter of personal aesthetic preference.

Colette Saint Yves:
I really enjoy working with black and white film. I think it probably allows for more experimentation—or at least, I feel free to try things like double exposures. I guess it gives me more creative freedom. That said, I love working with color film too—it’s just a different experience.

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© Ilaria De Benedetto / @Il2ria

In reading through these reflections, one thing becomes clear: Anarchy°2 isn’t just a book of photographs. It’s a collective gesture. A quiet rebellion. A shared refusal to conform to the expected.

Each artist brings their own language, their own tension, their own way of seeing through the lens. And yet, somehow, a thread connects them all—an impulse toward freedom, toward disintegration and reassembly, toward ritual and instinct and everything that can’t be explained in words. In a time saturated with noise and images, these monochrome fragments cut through with silence and feeling. They remind us that photography doesn’t have to be loud to be powerful. Sometimes, all it takes is a shadow, a shape, a single breath caught on film.

Anarchy°2 holds all the shades between black and white—and all the messy, beautiful human emotions in between.

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Further Reading