‘We all cast shadows on our children. This felt like a glimpse into the future, the way my body appears to lengthen his … as if he already has long legs. And one day he will’

I shot this picture of my son, Lucius, on a beach somewhere between Cape Town and Mossel Bay, in South Africa. He’s 10 now, but he was two at the time.

I had taken my family on a trip to install an exhibition. I was also working on a project with seaweed. My husband and Lucius were helping me throw large pieces of kelp up into the air and photograph the shapes they made.

I’ve always been interested in shadows, and I’d just been commissioned by the Nederlands Fotomuseum in Rotterdam to do a new project about shadows. Suddenly they were all I could see.

I was unsure how to approach the idea. I read the art historian Victor Stoichita’s Short History of the Shadow. I read Carl Jung’s shadow theory and how it relates to the parts of our personality we are ashamed of, parts we hide from people, even from ourselves. I read about black holes in space. Then I realised the only way to go about it was to work from within – to go at the idea not from a formal or an aesthetic perspective, but intuitively. It needed to be personal. This image is what happened.

What struck me about the picture was how it showed the shadow that was cast on Lucius by me, not only as a photographer, but as a human being and his mother. We try to raise our children to the best of our abilities, but we all have blind spots; we all cast shadows on our children.

This image felt like a glimpse into the future, the way the shadow of my body appears to lengthen his. It makes it seem as if he already has long legs. And one day he will – I will need to let go. He will grow up being his own person, making bounds and leaps ahead.

Then there’s the idea of shade as shelter, which the beach setting brings to the foreground. Shadows are often perceived in Holland [where Sassen lives] as negative or dark. I grew up in Kenya, where seeking shelter from the strong sunlight means comfort. In this image, my son is also protected by my shadow.

I always look for formal simplicity, a kind of abstraction. And when photographing people, I find there can be a strong emotional quality – a story of tenderness or anger – in the shape of a body, without ever showing a face.

Here, even though his face isn’t visible, I can tell how completely Lucius was in his own world. The beach was huge, and no one else was around. He was so happy exploring, playing with the stuff we found there, the kelp, the shells, driftwood. That’s one of the great things about having children: it reminds you of a way of seeing things that adults lose. In my photography, I always try to go back to that state of looking at the world afresh, without any preconceptions.



This image led to an expansive body of work, entitled Umbra, which means shadow in Latin. Lucius, of course, means light. It’s a name that fits him well. Before he was born we imagined we might shorten it to Luc, but we never have. Umbra – which comprises drawing, photography, installation, poetry and more – has been touring, so this image has been exhibited in many places. Lucius is always proud to be in the show.

Vivane Sassen’s CV

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Viviane Sassen. Photograph: Hanneke Vam Leeuwen

Born: Amsterdam, 1972.



Training: Fashion at ArtEZ University of the Arts, the Netherlands; photography at HKU University of the Arts Utrecht; ; and MFA, Ateliers Arnhem.

Influences: “Travelling – in the real world and the dream world – is the best way to get inspired.”

High point: “All the people I’ve met and collaborated with over the years.”



Low point: “There have been many, but somehow they always get overwritten by the good ones.”



Tip: “Pick up that camera and start moving. Don’t spend too much time sitting and thinking; only a dog who wanders around will find bones.”