Maxime Ballesteros was born in Lyon, France. After studying in
ERBASE (fine art school of St Etienne), maxime graduated in 2007 with a
DNSEP (master diploma of art). His work have been featured in
solo and group exhibitions in France, USA, Belgium, Russia, Germany,
Great Britain, Slovakia and Danemark.
He has been based in Berlin from 2007 till 2020 and is currently
in France.
For any inquiries :
studio@maximeballesteros.com
His clients, publications and features include:
032c, Acne, Adidas, Amuse, Angèle, Angilinazuli, Artforum, Ayn Magazine, Berliner Ensemble, Bright Magazine, Les Cahiers européens de l’imaginaire, Converse, Cover, Crush, Das Magazine, Dazed Digital, Die Welt, Die Zeit, Destroy Lonely, Deutsch Post, Diskurs, Dolder Grand, Dull, DSTM, Esquire, Faith Connexion, FFW, Flaneur, Flaunt, Foam, Gata, Harper’s Bazaar Arabia, Highsnobiety, La Horde, i-D (UK & FR), Intersection, Interview Germany, Intro, Jetzt Sueddeutsche Zeitung, Irène, ItsNiceThat, Kinki Magazine, Louis Vuitton, McQ, MB! by Mercedes-Benz, Mona Athens, Monocle, Monopol, Musikexpress, Neon (FR & DE), Nero Homme, Nike, Novembre, Nowness, L’Officiel, Opéra de Paris, Philips, Passages Magazine, Puma, Purple Fashion Magazine, PS Welt, the Red Bulletin, Reebok, S magazine, Saatchi Online, Sang Bleu, Schauspiel Frankfurt, Self Service Magazine, Sleek Magazine, Soho House Magazine, Ssense, Studio Magazine, Style.com, Tissue Magazine, TTTism, Twin, V Magazine, Vice Germany, Visions, W Magazine, Wire, Zalando, Zeit Magazin, Zoo Magazine, ...
There is also a nomadic non place, a homeless fugitive which mirrors
the other, a fleeting movement in which the unperceived can find its
breath, there is magic, alchemy, vibrating forms alive to the possible,
the impossible, pissing against the wall, the wind, howling, crying,
laughing, flying, stumbling, stripping bare that which shame dictates
is nude, stunting the feeble growth hormone of limbs destined to
climb yet withered in the daylight vampire curse of spent big mac
wrappers, tossing coins into the broken sewer, walking with bears,
with angels, with comets, to swim once more in the pool of narcissus,
to rescue time from the twilight of an untrustworthy memory, for this
is the moment worlds collide, and the flying sparks of this collision
are life, are the only moments, and as such the only tools we have
against death, are the only way we elevate ourselves beyond the
democratically elected funeral parlor of the everyday
John Isaacs
Maxime is someone who lives to take pictures — which would be a
worrying wager if he wasn’t so good at it. His pictures underline the
existence of subjective reality. We could be in the same place, at what
I would describe as a “boring” party, and days later, when the proof
of the party had adequately sat bathed in dye couplers and
rehalogenising bleach, I would be confronted with the possibility of
a somewhat parallel universe: there was another party happening in
that same exact place and time. We had in fact been together in a
place of unprecedented sexual freedom and earthly delight, I just
hadn’t had the eyes (or the will) to see the beauty in it at the time.
Maxime has the gift of bringing out in people a love of the moment
that has been cast aside in our modern age. The photos that he takes
aren’t in the realm of slapstick: the instant, easy gratification of a
social media cookie reward. Maxime is a hunter, locked and loaded,
waiting — hidden in plain sight — for the exact moment to take the
shot, when the aim is precise, and his subject is blissfully unaware of
his presence.
And despite being mostly hidden, Maxime intimately connects
with his subjects. This, of course, is not really “news” — he is a
photographer, and intimate connection with one’s subject is arguably
the most important tool in that trade. The specificity of Maxime’s
connection, however, is that his subject may be, for example, a
pair of heels, the bearer of whom being most often completely
unaware of the intimate connection happening in her (or his) southern
hemisphere. It’s a sort of futuristic virtual reality, where objects and
places express their feelings and emotions through Maxime’s lens.
And to be one of his human subjects — what a lucky place to play!
All of these flexible daredevils are so coolly sexually confident! And
the young men so brazenly, innocently nude. He is not a voyeur, this
is reportage of youthful sexual empowerment and ownership. He
proves with ease that it’s not just the eyes that are the window to the
soul; pairs of crossed legs find themselves in conversation and
arched torsos express an unprecedented language of the body.
In Maxime’s world, the esoteric comes across as downright
banal, and the banal is made striking. Quirkiness is made beautiful,
nudity is made commonplace. Not only could we wish to experience
the same debaucherous festivities as Maxime, what a delight it must
be just to walk down the street seeing through his eyes!
Caroline Gaimari
Photographer Maxime Ballesteros has ‘provocative’ attached to his name. He captures the most intense and beautiful aspects of life – the climax of a party, sex and a fair amount of high heels and leather – in bright colours illuminated by a sharp, uncompromising flash. Originally from a small village near Lyon, Ballesteros now lives in Berlin, which he describes as “dangerous in the best way, in its freedom”. He photographs Berlin’s nightlife and his friends, though his pictures are only loosely connected to specific places and times. Playing with sexually-charged symbolism – leather, stockings, heels – his photos evoke debauched Renaissance paintings and early photographs of the decadent 20s and 80s. Creation and destruction, love and innocence, excess and debauchery – aspects fundamental to human nature – are all ever-present themes in his work.
Whatever his subject is, he manages to capture reality at its best, the perfect moment one wants to preserve forever. Ballesteros’ photographs are strong and honest statements sprinkled with only a constrasting hint of irony. Ahead of his upcoming show in Cologne, Dazed talked to Ballesteros about the perfect photo, nudity, and wandering strangers in latex bodysuits.
Anastasiia Fedorova
Maxime Ballesteros’s photographs share the same DNA as Kurt Cobain’s rough wail, Picasso’s sketches, Bill T. Jones’s walk and Raymond Carver’s sentences. They arise from common acts that people regularly perform, yet when they are realized through uniquely talented artists, they become profound. Ballesteros is a Lyon-born and Berlin-based photographer whose gritty images of rough reality evoke the work of Nan Goldin, Corinne Day, Larry Clark and Ryan McGinley. Like the products of legions of snappers inspired by these photographers’ intimate documentary imagery, Ballesteros’s portraits, still-lives and reportage have a raw immediacy. But unlike the countless copyists of the snap-shot aesthetic, his work genuinely shares the poetics, insight and empathy of the masters of his medium. His work, even his still-lives, pulses with an intense and genuine sexual charge and captivating empathy.
Glossy, processed, polished photography is much easier to produce than Ballesteros’s images. His portraits, including commercial images, offer striking insights into his sitters’ personalities. Inherent in his imagery is an awareness that the sitters are responding to him. The quality of rawness in his work comes less from its natural and loose look which strips sitters of their pretensions and reveals the humanity of their flaws and charms. Instead, it emanates from the sense that there is an intimate connection between Ballesteros and his subjects, and that the viewer is witnessing something fleeting and intensely private.
Ana Finel Honigman
Not that we could confirm, but we believe he sleeps with his camera. Firmly rooted in Berlin’s young and quirky art scene, he is bound to become something of an encyclopaedist of today’s Berlin.
Annika Von Taube
© 2010 Maxime Ballesteros
All photographs by Maxime Ballesteros. All right reserved, no part of these photographs may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical photo copying, or other-wise, without prior permission in writing from the copyright owner.
studio@maximeballesteros.com_
ERBASE (fine art school of St Etienne), maxime graduated in 2007 with a
DNSEP (master diploma of art). His work have been featured in
solo and group exhibitions in France, USA, Belgium, Russia, Germany,
Great Britain, Slovakia and Danemark.
He has been based in Berlin from 2007 till 2020 and is currently
in France.
For any inquiries :
studio@maximeballesteros.com
His clients, publications and features include:
032c, Acne, Adidas, Amuse, Angèle, Angilinazuli, Artforum, Ayn Magazine, Berliner Ensemble, Bright Magazine, Les Cahiers européens de l’imaginaire, Converse, Cover, Crush, Das Magazine, Dazed Digital, Die Welt, Die Zeit, Destroy Lonely, Deutsch Post, Diskurs, Dolder Grand, Dull, DSTM, Esquire, Faith Connexion, FFW, Flaneur, Flaunt, Foam, Gata, Harper’s Bazaar Arabia, Highsnobiety, La Horde, i-D (UK & FR), Intersection, Interview Germany, Intro, Jetzt Sueddeutsche Zeitung, Irène, ItsNiceThat, Kinki Magazine, Louis Vuitton, McQ, MB! by Mercedes-Benz, Mona Athens, Monocle, Monopol, Musikexpress, Neon (FR & DE), Nero Homme, Nike, Novembre, Nowness, L’Officiel, Opéra de Paris, Philips, Passages Magazine, Puma, Purple Fashion Magazine, PS Welt, the Red Bulletin, Reebok, S magazine, Saatchi Online, Sang Bleu, Schauspiel Frankfurt, Self Service Magazine, Sleek Magazine, Soho House Magazine, Ssense, Studio Magazine, Style.com, Tissue Magazine, TTTism, Twin, V Magazine, Vice Germany, Visions, W Magazine, Wire, Zalando, Zeit Magazin, Zoo Magazine, ...
There is also a nomadic non place, a homeless fugitive which mirrors
the other, a fleeting movement in which the unperceived can find its
breath, there is magic, alchemy, vibrating forms alive to the possible,
the impossible, pissing against the wall, the wind, howling, crying,
laughing, flying, stumbling, stripping bare that which shame dictates
is nude, stunting the feeble growth hormone of limbs destined to
climb yet withered in the daylight vampire curse of spent big mac
wrappers, tossing coins into the broken sewer, walking with bears,
with angels, with comets, to swim once more in the pool of narcissus,
to rescue time from the twilight of an untrustworthy memory, for this
is the moment worlds collide, and the flying sparks of this collision
are life, are the only moments, and as such the only tools we have
against death, are the only way we elevate ourselves beyond the
democratically elected funeral parlor of the everyday
John Isaacs
Maxime is someone who lives to take pictures — which would be a
worrying wager if he wasn’t so good at it. His pictures underline the
existence of subjective reality. We could be in the same place, at what
I would describe as a “boring” party, and days later, when the proof
of the party had adequately sat bathed in dye couplers and
rehalogenising bleach, I would be confronted with the possibility of
a somewhat parallel universe: there was another party happening in
that same exact place and time. We had in fact been together in a
place of unprecedented sexual freedom and earthly delight, I just
hadn’t had the eyes (or the will) to see the beauty in it at the time.
Maxime has the gift of bringing out in people a love of the moment
that has been cast aside in our modern age. The photos that he takes
aren’t in the realm of slapstick: the instant, easy gratification of a
social media cookie reward. Maxime is a hunter, locked and loaded,
waiting — hidden in plain sight — for the exact moment to take the
shot, when the aim is precise, and his subject is blissfully unaware of
his presence.
And despite being mostly hidden, Maxime intimately connects
with his subjects. This, of course, is not really “news” — he is a
photographer, and intimate connection with one’s subject is arguably
the most important tool in that trade. The specificity of Maxime’s
connection, however, is that his subject may be, for example, a
pair of heels, the bearer of whom being most often completely
unaware of the intimate connection happening in her (or his) southern
hemisphere. It’s a sort of futuristic virtual reality, where objects and
places express their feelings and emotions through Maxime’s lens.
And to be one of his human subjects — what a lucky place to play!
All of these flexible daredevils are so coolly sexually confident! And
the young men so brazenly, innocently nude. He is not a voyeur, this
is reportage of youthful sexual empowerment and ownership. He
proves with ease that it’s not just the eyes that are the window to the
soul; pairs of crossed legs find themselves in conversation and
arched torsos express an unprecedented language of the body.
In Maxime’s world, the esoteric comes across as downright
banal, and the banal is made striking. Quirkiness is made beautiful,
nudity is made commonplace. Not only could we wish to experience
the same debaucherous festivities as Maxime, what a delight it must
be just to walk down the street seeing through his eyes!
Caroline Gaimari
Photographer Maxime Ballesteros has ‘provocative’ attached to his name. He captures the most intense and beautiful aspects of life – the climax of a party, sex and a fair amount of high heels and leather – in bright colours illuminated by a sharp, uncompromising flash. Originally from a small village near Lyon, Ballesteros now lives in Berlin, which he describes as “dangerous in the best way, in its freedom”. He photographs Berlin’s nightlife and his friends, though his pictures are only loosely connected to specific places and times. Playing with sexually-charged symbolism – leather, stockings, heels – his photos evoke debauched Renaissance paintings and early photographs of the decadent 20s and 80s. Creation and destruction, love and innocence, excess and debauchery – aspects fundamental to human nature – are all ever-present themes in his work.
Whatever his subject is, he manages to capture reality at its best, the perfect moment one wants to preserve forever. Ballesteros’ photographs are strong and honest statements sprinkled with only a constrasting hint of irony. Ahead of his upcoming show in Cologne, Dazed talked to Ballesteros about the perfect photo, nudity, and wandering strangers in latex bodysuits.
Anastasiia Fedorova
Maxime Ballesteros’s photographs share the same DNA as Kurt Cobain’s rough wail, Picasso’s sketches, Bill T. Jones’s walk and Raymond Carver’s sentences. They arise from common acts that people regularly perform, yet when they are realized through uniquely talented artists, they become profound. Ballesteros is a Lyon-born and Berlin-based photographer whose gritty images of rough reality evoke the work of Nan Goldin, Corinne Day, Larry Clark and Ryan McGinley. Like the products of legions of snappers inspired by these photographers’ intimate documentary imagery, Ballesteros’s portraits, still-lives and reportage have a raw immediacy. But unlike the countless copyists of the snap-shot aesthetic, his work genuinely shares the poetics, insight and empathy of the masters of his medium. His work, even his still-lives, pulses with an intense and genuine sexual charge and captivating empathy.
Glossy, processed, polished photography is much easier to produce than Ballesteros’s images. His portraits, including commercial images, offer striking insights into his sitters’ personalities. Inherent in his imagery is an awareness that the sitters are responding to him. The quality of rawness in his work comes less from its natural and loose look which strips sitters of their pretensions and reveals the humanity of their flaws and charms. Instead, it emanates from the sense that there is an intimate connection between Ballesteros and his subjects, and that the viewer is witnessing something fleeting and intensely private.
Ana Finel Honigman
Not that we could confirm, but we believe he sleeps with his camera. Firmly rooted in Berlin’s young and quirky art scene, he is bound to become something of an encyclopaedist of today’s Berlin.
Annika Von Taube
© 2010 Maxime Ballesteros
All photographs by Maxime Ballesteros. All right reserved, no part of these photographs may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical photo copying, or other-wise, without prior permission in writing from the copyright owner.
studio@maximeballesteros.com_