Marjolein Martinot Picked Up a Film Camera During Lockdown and Discovered Her Own Fairy Tale in the Rivers of France
Welcome to this edition of [book spotlight]. Today, we uncover the layers of 'Riverland,' by Marjolein Martinot (published by STANLEY/BARKER). We'd love to read your comments below about these insights and ideas behind the artist's work.
One frame at a time, Marjolein Martinot photographed her way back to herself through the rivers of France.
She wasn’t planning to make a book, just trying to stay grounded during a time of emotional chaos. With six children at home and the world shut down, she picked up her film camera and went walking by the river. What she found there, children climbing trees, soft golden light, and unexpected moments of peace, helped her begin again. It turned into something bigger than she expected.
This is a story about how photography can heal when words do not help.
Shot entirely on film, Riverland is filled with quiet, unplanned moments that feel part real, part dream. Some are portraits. Others are small scenes: water, light, animals moving past. Together, they form a body of work that is emotional, honest, and full of small magic.
The Book
Riverland is the first photobook by Dutch photographer Marjolein Martinot, published by Stanley/Barker in June 2025. Created during the COVID-19 lockdown, the project began as a personal ritual of walking and photographing the riversides of southern France. Over time, it developed into a visual diary of recovery and reconnection.
Shot entirely on film, the book features a mix of portraits and natural scenes captured in the soft light of morning and dusk. Children playing, animals moving through water, and quiet landscapes all appear with a sense of unguarded simplicity and emotional weight.
With its mix of spontaneity and subtle narrative, Riverland explores themes of solitude, motherhood, memory, and healing. The book’s design and sequencing emphasize a dreamlike continuity, reflecting Martinot’s evolving emotional state and the gentle, unpredictable flow of the rivers she followed. (STANLEY/BARKER)
Overview of the project: What inspired you to create Riverland, and how did your personal experiences shape the way you approached this project?
In early 2020— which was approximately when I started the project— I wasn’t looking for any particular subject to be inspired by. I was having some really difficult moments in my personal life, finding myself at a crossroads, while at the same time, the whole world was enduring the global trauma of the Covid pandemic. Travelling and especially international travelling was virtually impossible between the various lockdowns, but I had a last-minute chance to be able to attend a photography workshop with Vanessa Winship and Israel Ariño in the Indre region of France.
It was an altogether wonderful experience and exactly what I needed at the time. Looking back, I think that the inspiration for the project started there and then, while photographing a bunch of little boys in trees on the Creuse river of the Indre.
It felt almost surreal to be there during those challenging times, and to be photographing these gorgeous, happy, and enchanting moments. It was kind of a eureka moment for me, and it ended up becoming the core of the work to which I wanted to add more. I subsequently kept on searching for other interesting and magical moments with different subjects and scenes, all in and around the rivers of southern France.
Photography as a form of healing: You describe the act of walking to the river and photographing as a way to reconnect with yourself during a difficult time. How did this process help you navigate personal transformation?
For years I had been struggling to find enough time to express myself genuinely and creatively - both as a woman and as an artist, and in addition, the times we were (and still are) living in, made things feel much worse. With the many horrible things going on in the world, and with so many negative outlooks, I was often finding myself feeling overwhelmed and depressed. Making time to completely get away from it all was essential for my mental wellbeing. Turning towards nature seemed like an obvious answer, and I did just that. For me there is almost no nicer experience than being by yourself - surrounded by peace and quiet in a beautiful natural setting, and to be able to capture this with your camera. It is pure therapeutic - distracting and comforting, and often extremely stimulating as well. It is just a great recipe to feel much better overall.
Capturing fleeting moments in nature: Your images portray unguarded moments, children playing, animals in motion, water reflecting the last light of day. How do you decide when to press the shutter and capture these ephemeral scenes?
The grand majority of the scenes in the book were taken as I saw and found them - they were spontaneous and unstaged captures, except for the portraits obviously, as I’d asked people then to pose for me. The moment that makes me press the shutter often springs from a gut feeling. Because the work was being shot with film on analogue cameras, it meant that I couldn’t see the results right away. However, often when I had a good feeling at the time of taking the picture, it turned out to be so as well.
Shooting on film means you don’t get instant feedback. Were there moments when you weren’t sure if you got the shot, only to be surprised later?
Yes, there were moments that I wasn't sure that I got a good shot. I especially recall this happening once with a photo of a lady whom I met in the department of the Ariège, and where I ended up liking an unguarded, in-between moment much better than the initial portrait that I took of her. In addition, I got lucky a few times too with the outcome of a (spontaneous, handheld) shot in low light, and where I initially wasn't sure if it would work.
The river as a metaphor: Water is often a symbol of renewal and change. How did the unpredictability and ever-flowing nature of the river reflect your own emotional journey in Riverland?
Maybe it’s a bit of a cliché, but I’ve always appreciated the river as a metaphor for life. It just seems to echo life in such a simple, beautiful and poetic way. Rivers are like the veins of the world, connecting places, plus you never know what or whom you might encounter there, and I just loved that idea. I randomly selected southern rivers in France as starting points for my travels and subsequently followed some of the trails along them.
Balancing intimacy and universality: Your photographs feel deeply personal yet resonate with universal themes of connection and resilience. How did you navigate this balance between personal storytelling and broader emotional appeal?
I am not quite sure how to answer that to be honest. The work contains a mixture of nature and portrait photography. The nature and landscape photos are mostly quiet and slightly ethereal perhaps, while in contrast to that, some of the portraits might be perceived as rather straightforward and direct. The combination of the two just appealed to me, as it resonated with my feelings at the time, and it confronted me with myself in some way as well.
You mentioned seeing your subjects as fairy-tale characters. Did that change how you photographed them, like the way you framed a scene or chose the light?
No, not really, I think. I was always looking for a particular delicate light and a fitting mood for all of my photos— for the nature ones and for the portraits as well. The fairy-tale vibes that I perceived from the subjects I photographed were mostly in my head at the time of photographing them, and I subsequently tried fitting them into the story afterwards.
Light and atmosphere in your work: Many of your images are bathed in the golden light of dusk. How did the quality of light influence the mood and emotional depth of Riverland?
Finding the right light was crucial for the poetic mood I was after in my pictures. With a couple of exceptions, most of the photos for Riverland were taken either very early in the morning at the first available light, or in late afternoon/early evening— at dusk or even later. I usually used the daytime (when the light was much harsher) to explore various areas, trying to find places and spots of interest to photograph afterwards.
Building connections with subjects: The book features families and animals encountered along the river. How did you engage with these subjects, and what was your approach to capturing them in such an intimate, natural way?
Some of the photos of people in the book were spontaneous captures as I stumbled upon them because they were perfect in the given situation, and I was afraid that if they became too aware of me photographing, it all could end up looking staged. However, I always introduced myself afterwards though, and asked for permission to continue shooting. We consistently ended up talking; I think that it’s an essential part of the process. Occasionally I decided to take a portrait then as well (for example with the girl on the slide). Sometimes I just saw someone with an interesting face to photograph, and I asked them directly if I could take their portrait. I was quite lucky in that respect, as most people accepted to do so. I always asked for their contact information and then sent them photos afterwards.
Evolution of the project over time: You initially began photographing as an act of wandering, but it evolved into something more structured. At what point did you realise that Riverland would take the form of a book, and how did that shape your approach?
After the very first photographs of the boys in the trees, I made further efforts to find other magical moments in later trips along various other rivers. At some point, I started noticing that the project contained a bit of a fairy-tale vibe, both in mood and scenery, and even in character. That kind of made sense though, as the whole project was also an act of escapism in a certain way for me. It was around that moment that I came up with the title Riverland. Quite funny too, as from then on, I often started seeing and selecting subjects more as fairy-tale characters (witches, unicorns, mermaids, etc.). When I later mentioned this perception to Rachel and Gregory of Stanley Barker, they were right away enthusiastic about that concept. The book was actually made with this mindset, and subsequently with a beautiful, perfectly fitting cover design as well!
You started photographing as a personal escape, but at some point, it became something more. Was there a specific image or experience that made you realise Riverland was turning into a full project?
This happened maybe after a while, at some point when I was looking back at all the photos I'd taken before, and I saw the potential of several of the images fitting together in a (for me) coherent way. After that, the story of the project evolved much more clearly.
Advice for photographers seeking emotional depth in their work: For photographers looking to explore deeply personal themes while maintaining universal resonance, what insights from Riverland would you share to guide them in their creative process?
I would just say, be true to yourself, and follow your gut instinct in photographing what you think is worthwhile. Try to be open-minded and enjoy— embrace even— unexpected encounters, even if they initially might take you out of your comfort zone. Meeting and talking to strangers can be a challenge perhaps, yet it can also be an interesting, sometimes even eye-opening, and overall rewarding experience. I find that although people might appear different at first, they always have a lot in common with you too.
To discover more about this intriguing body of work and how you can acquire your own copy, you can find and purchase the book here. (STANLEY/BARKER)
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