The Gaze That Finds the Invisible – Marika’s Fragments of Emotion
Some people see the world. Marika feels it.
Her photography begins in a split second – an instinct as primal as breath. A flash in the corner of her vision. A flicker that dares her to look closer. In that instant, she knows she must take the shot.
It’s not a choice. It’s an adrenaline surge that races from her eyes, through her hands, into the lens. An electricity that demands to be preserved.
“Sometimes it’s like a fire in the corner of my eye,” she says.
“I turn, and I know… if I don’t press the shutter now, it will vanish forever.”
Her photography begins in a split second – an instinct as primal as breath. A flash in the corner of her vision. A flicker that dares her to look closer. In that instant, she knows she must take the shot.
It’s not a choice. It’s an adrenaline surge that races from her eyes, through her hands, into the lens. An electricity that demands to be preserved.
“Sometimes it’s like a fire in the corner of my eye,” she says.
“I turn, and I know… if I don’t press the shutter now, it will vanish forever.”
“The Urgency of Feeling”
Marika doesn’t plan her photographs. She doesn’t sketch, pre-visualize, or script. Her process begins and ends in instinct.
She chases the heartbeat – And that’s why her work feels alive. It’s as if you’re standing where she stood, hearing the same air, feeling the same chill. Her photographs have no interest in showing you what she saw – they pull you into what she felt.
“I’m not thinking about composition or settings in that instant, I’m thinking about the feeling I want to leave behind.”
She chases the heartbeat – And that’s why her work feels alive. It’s as if you’re standing where she stood, hearing the same air, feeling the same chill. Her photographs have no interest in showing you what she saw – they pull you into what she felt.
“I’m not thinking about composition or settings in that instant, I’m thinking about the feeling I want to leave behind.”
“Walls That Breathe
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Her images have been displayed in spaces that are not traditional galleries – places where art is not expected, and perhaps needed the most.
In hospitals, her work softened the sharp edges of fear and fatigue. Patients stopped to look. Nurses lingered between rounds. Strangers smiled at strangers. In those corridors, photography became more than art – it became oxygen.
Working with UNICEF, Marika was entrusted to capture the truths of dignity and resilience. She photographed the daily lives of those whose rights were often debated in policy rooms but rarely witnessed with compassion. In her hands, the camera became both a shield and a mirror – protecting the vulnerable while reflecting their humanity.
When she exhibited in an all-female collective inside Rome’s National Etruscan Museum, the space itself became part of the story. Centuries-old walls held witness as her image hung among artifacts and frescoes, her subjects standing beside goddesses and warriors of history. It was a merging of timelines – ancient and modern women sharing the same sacred air.
Soon, she will collaborate with ADMO, the bone marrow donor association. Eleven photographs. Eleven words. Each frame built around a single word – Light. Courage. Breath. Hope. Every image will hold a life inside it, a testament to survival, sacrifice, and the invisible bonds between strangers.
In hospitals, her work softened the sharp edges of fear and fatigue. Patients stopped to look. Nurses lingered between rounds. Strangers smiled at strangers. In those corridors, photography became more than art – it became oxygen.
Working with UNICEF, Marika was entrusted to capture the truths of dignity and resilience. She photographed the daily lives of those whose rights were often debated in policy rooms but rarely witnessed with compassion. In her hands, the camera became both a shield and a mirror – protecting the vulnerable while reflecting their humanity.
When she exhibited in an all-female collective inside Rome’s National Etruscan Museum, the space itself became part of the story. Centuries-old walls held witness as her image hung among artifacts and frescoes, her subjects standing beside goddesses and warriors of history. It was a merging of timelines – ancient and modern women sharing the same sacred air.
Soon, she will collaborate with ADMO, the bone marrow donor association. Eleven photographs. Eleven words. Each frame built around a single word – Light. Courage. Breath. Hope. Every image will hold a life inside it, a testament to survival, sacrifice, and the invisible bonds between strangers.
“The Relentless Pulse of Story”
Marika has never been interested in simply preserving what happened. She photographs to ask questions. To uncover the unsaid. To let her subjects speak without needing to find the right words.
“It’s my way of keeping something alive,” she says. “But also my way of looking inside myself.”
She knows that what she captures will never happen again – but in that still image, the feeling doesn’t fade. For someone to stop, and look, and remember.
And in that connection – between her lens, her subject, and a stranger – she reminds us what it means to be more than a photographer. She is a Rare Storyteller, and her stories are written in light, yet they burn long after the image is gone.
“It’s my way of keeping something alive,” she says. “But also my way of looking inside myself.”
She knows that what she captures will never happen again – but in that still image, the feeling doesn’t fade. For someone to stop, and look, and remember.
And in that connection – between her lens, her subject, and a stranger – she reminds us what it means to be more than a photographer. She is a Rare Storyteller, and her stories are written in light, yet they burn long after the image is gone.
The pictures and perspectives expressed above are those of the author(s) alone and do not represent the views of Rare Storyteller or its team.
to the world.