ENQUÊTE: artist talk with Negin Daneshvar-Malevergne
- May 22
- 5 min read
Updated: 4 days ago
There is a depth of thought in Negin Daneshvar-Malevergne’s art that is immediately felt, even before it is fully understood.
Her photographs do not present themselves as answers. They hold space for questions, for tension, for the kind of reflection that does not resolve quickly. What Negin creates does not stand apart from her thinking, it carries it forward.
Born in Iran and now based in France, Negin’s early connection to expression moved fluidly between writing and drawing, where one informed the other. Raised in a family of intellectuals, doctors, and painters, that sensibility has only deepened over time. Her path through literature and the humanities, culminating in a doctorate from the Sorbonne, did not lead away from photography, but toward a form of art informed by thought and inquiry. The questions that shaped Negin’s academic work take form in a visual language that carries that same depth of inquiry.
Her practice is deliberate. It begins with the written word, with attention, with a need to understand and to respond. Photography, for Negin, becomes a form of writing that reaches beyond language, a way to engage with a world that often feels fractured, unstable, and difficult to hold. Themes of power, domination, and human vulnerability are not approached at a distance, but remain present, fully engaged within the work.
There is care in how Negin’s photographs are constructed. Line, color, and composition are considered and held in balance. Beneath that structure is a refusal to accept disorder as inevitable, and a continued search for meaning within it. Negin does not offer comfort, but it does offer clarity, and at times, a sense that awareness itself is a form of resistance.
What personal experiences have quietly shaped the direction of your work?
Academic research, teaching literature to young people, and the desire to awaken questioning in them have always motivated me. My interest in the complexity of today’s world, through literature, essays, newspapers, and magazines, has guided my thinking. To expand this transmission to a broader and non-specialized audience, I turned to art as a universal language, a tool for communication, awakening, and engagement. Photography became a form of writing accessible to all, a way to bring order to chaos and to engage with humanity.
What keeps bringing you back to the act of making art?
For me, creating is a way to resist chaos, emptiness, ignorance, and meaninglessness. Witnessing the gradual disappearance of culture and human creativity, displaced by the power of machines, gives me the desire to resist, to protect the essence of humanity, and to preserve our civilizations from a possible regression.
What part of the making process do you secretly enjoy the most?
I believe in the visionary aspect of art, in its capacity to provide answers, to enter a labyrinth and become Ariane’s thread, bringing answers I had not considered but had, in some way, been seeking. Inspiration is an enigmatic force. When the artist’s motivation is sincere, it becomes a guide and gives the work a particular presence that resonates deeply. The aim is to enter into dialogue with what inspires us and to give it purpose beyond the immediate. In that moment, something opens.
What role does intuition play in your decisions as an artist?
At the beginning of a series, intuition plays little role. I begin with a problem, analyzing its different aspects, constructing diagrams, and imagining a conclusion. It is during the composition that intuition enters. It may guide the choice of an element, its placement, or the decision to add or remove something. In those moments, I feel that I am not creating alone.
What challenge has unexpectedly helped your work grow stronger?
My commitment as a teacher, as an artist, and as a human being concerned with others has always guided me. This commitment has given me the strength to continue, even when time or resources were limited. The dialogue with the world, and with its wounds, must continue. Art becomes a voice, a path that leads us back to our origins.
What part of your creative process would you want to leave as a legacy?
In the face of the rapid changes affecting our world, I would like to leave a trace of what I consider human: the capacity to be moved, to recognize beauty, to reflect, to create, and to care for others. A work that calls upon our conscience and reminds us of what must not be lost.
What kind of places make your imagination most active?
My imagination develops in two very different spaces. The first is a solitary space, where I am alone with a book, an article, or in a quiet library where an idea emerges. The second is a public space, such as a museum, exhibition, theater, or cinema. It is in these places, confronted with the concerns of our time, that I feel compelled to translate thought into image.
What does creativity give you that nothing else quite does?
Creativity is something I respect deeply. In moments of solitude, it accompanies me, fills a void, and brings answers that I can share with others.
What does making art allow you to explore that everyday life does not?
Art draws from everyday life, even from what may seem ordinary. But it allows us to step back and elevate what we see. It sharpens awareness, encourages independent thought, and allows us to act as individuals rather than simply follow.
How important is ambiguity or openness in your work?
Ambiguity reflects the complexity of reality. However, I do not seek to obscure meaning. I accompany my photographic series with text to support communication and maintain openness with the viewer.
What is something small that always improves your day?
Discovering a meaningful idea in a book or taking a photograph that moves me.
What is one place that always makes you feel calm or happy?
Places of culture. Libraries, where books nourish thought, and exhibitions, where ideas take form.
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