Image created by me, Jesse Jacques, March 2025.
Working at a high level means constantly refining execution, composition, and intent. Shot on Kodak Ektar, this one brings fractured reflections, raw textures, and controlled chaos into focus. Some parts were planned. Some just happened. Either way, it all came together in a way that felt right.
Breaking it down in the latest BTS.
Hey everyone, hope all has been well.
Lately, I’ve been on a creative tear, ideas and concepts pouring in faster than I can keep up with. It’s that rare flow where everything clicks, where the work almost seems to create itself. When that happens, I try to trust the process and let instinct take the lead, because that’s where the best images come from.
This latest work project was one of those moments. There was a concept from the start, but the way it evolved? That was something else. Some choices were intentional. Some were instinctual. And some, like the way the fractured glass took on a life of its own, just had to be embraced in the moment.
Rather than a step-by-step breakdown, let’s reverse engineer the subconscious, not just how this image was made but how creative instinct takes over when everything aligns
Some images come from careful planning. Others come from somewhere else, a space between instinct and intention. Maybe it’s memory. Perhaps it’s pattern recognition. Maybe it’s just the subconscious playing with ideas before we’re even aware of them.
Every image starts with something. A reason. A direction. A pull toward an idea, whether it’s clear from the start or something that unfolds along the way.
This one had a foundation, an underlying concept that shaped its creation. But once the process began, instinct took over. Some elements followed the plan. Others evolved in ways that weren’t expected but made sense the moment they happened.
This wasn’t about following trends or doing what’s already been done. It wasn’t about forcing a statement, either. The image took form through intention and discovery, holding onto its purpose while allowing room for something more that stood apart without trying too hard to prove it.
Looking at the Image vs. Looking Through It
The first thing that catches your eye isn’t always the first thing that catches your mind. There’s a certain rhythm to an image. How the elements pull at each other, how sharpness meets texture, how order clashes with destruction.
Some of it is deliberate. Some of it just feels right.
You can call it instinct, or you can call it reverse-engineering the subconscious. Either way, it’s the part of the process that isn’t taught, isn’t calculated, but still finds its way into the final frame.
Fractured Beauty, Fractured Reality
One of the strongest elements in this image is the fractured mirror/glass because reflections aren’t always what they seem.
A perfect reflection is an expectation. A shattered one is a distortion of perception, a break in reality, a reminder that beauty is never as seamless as we think it is.
It could represent fractured beauty, the way beauty standards rely on illusions, polished surfaces, and carefully curated images.
It could symbolize a fractured identity. How we see ourselves vs. how the world sees us, or even how a single image can contain multiple versions of truth.
Or maybe it’s about framing the image itself. Using glass as a tool to distort, disrupt, and reshape what the viewer sees.
There was no single meaning behind it, but that’s the point.
The cracks weren’t staged, not in the sense that they were perfectly controlled. The glass broke in its own way, and instead of fighting against it, I worked with it. That’s something I tend to lean toward in my process, merging control with what naturally happens, rather than forcing everything into a rigid design.
Echoes of Movements (Even If I Wasn’t Thinking About Them)
You start with a concept. A direction. But influence isn’t always something you chase, it’s something that seeps in as you work. You don’t always notice it at first, but it’s there, shaping decisions in ways that feel instinctive rather than deliberate.
Looking at this image now, I can see fragments of different movements that may have subconsciously played a role:
Surrealism – Not in an obvious, over-the-top way, but in how reality feels slightly shifted. The mirror distorts. The eye watches. Things aren’t quite what they seem.
Futurism – Not in motion, but in tension. The balance of the organic and the synthetic. The smooth and the shattered. The controlled and the chaotic.
Abstract Expressionism – Not in paint, but in pigment. The color isn’t applied like in traditional makeup photography; it’s scattered, disrupted, and let loose to move in its own way.
Maybe these influences were in my mind. Maybe they weren’t. That’s the thing about influence; it doesn’t announce itself. It just weaves its way in.
Walking the Line Between Avant-Garde & Approachability
Lately, I’ve been leaning into more avant-garde themes, pushing compositions further, breaking formality, and embracing abstraction. But there’s a balance to it.
Avant-garde for the sake of avant-garde doesn’t interest me. It has to be elegantly merged with something accessible, something that still speaks to people without losing them in concept. This image sits right on that line where things start to feel experimental but never so far that they stop resonating.
It’s about taking risks but pulling them back just enough to keep them refined.
In this case, that meant balancing a surreal composition with elements that are still tangible, still familiar, such as makeup, jewelry, broken glass, and textures that invite the viewer in rather than alienating them.
What Was Controlled, What Was Left to Chance
Some things in this image were placed exactly where they needed to be, the jewelry, the lip color, and the applicators. Others were left to fall where they wanted, crushed pigment spreading unpredictably, reflections breaking apart in ways you can’t fully control.
Maybe that’s what makes an image feel alive. Not perfection, but tension.
Film, Materiality & the Weight of the Image
There’s a reason this was shot on film. Not just because it looks different, but because it feels different. Digital sharpens everything, smooths everything, and cleans up the edges. Film holds on to the weight of light, of texture, of small imperfections that make an image real.
It’s not nostalgia. It’s just a different way of seeing.
Closing Thought: No Explanations, Just Traces
Some images aren’t meant to be explained. Not fully.
This one has pieces of something, something familiar but unplaceable. Maybe it’s memory. Maybe it’s déjà vu. Maybe it’s the result of knowing when to follow instinct instead of expectation.
Whatever it is, it wasn’t made to be obvious. But it was always made with intention.
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