Apr 15, 2025
A Fox in the Frame
Taysa Jorge's Quiet Worlds of Light, Space, Animals, and Solitude.
We've never met Taysa Jorge. And yet—in that strange, artificial way you come to feel familiar with someone whose work you've seen and returned to—it feels like we have.
Taysa didn't plan to become a visual artist. She danced. She studied psychology. Then she wandered—Barcelona, Amsterdam, light, Photoshop. What she found in the in-between was less about becoming a photographer and more about noticing: negative space, stray cats, stubborn dogs, and the shape of a feeling before it has a name. Her work is quiet. It sits in its own soft orbit, asking you to slow down and look. Not for answers, but for the one thing that moves—subtle, strange, maybe even a little magical.
In conversation with Taysa, we talk about stillness, softness, the creatures that find her, and the unexpected ways solitude can shape a vision. And yes—she has a quest for you.
F: Furrend TJ: Taysa Jorge
F: You first discovered photography in 2015 after years in dance. How did that transition feel creatively? Are there ways dance still informs your visual art?
TJ: It wasn't a straight transition. I was at a moment when I had just moved to Barcelona with the idea of continuing to study Psychology, which I had enrolled in just a few months earlier (although a few months later, I left it). Despite continuing to take dance classes while living there, I was already a bit disconnected from it and wasn't pursuing dance at that moment.
I had also developed an interest in photography and photo manipulation a few years earlier, but just as a hobby. Since my connection to art was through working with my body, I liked taking pictures of myself dancing and editing them in online software. I always saw photography as a means of personal expression rather than a form of documenting.
Around that time, I went to visit a friend in Amsterdam whom I hadn't seen in many years. It was such a magical trip and reunion, as if we both had information that the other needed to hear at that specific moment. She told me she liked my pictures and encouraged me to buy a camera. She studied Fine Arts and is an illustrator, so her opinion reassured me.
In the following months, I bought a reflex camera and downloaded Photoshop and Lightroom. I remember my first day trying out my camera. I went to a well-known park in Barcelona, "Ciutadella," and I was very excited to have a tool I could use to take photographs with depth of field.
As for whether it still informs my visual art, I really think so… I think I’m not fully conscious of it, but I have concluded that much of my work, both the self-portraits in the early days and my way of playing with light and negative space in the composition of landscapes today, comes largely from my spatial awareness as a dancer. And I think it shapes it in many other ways I’m not even aware of yet.
F: You describe yourself as a self-taught artist. What has that journey of teaching yourself looked like, and what has it taught you about yourself?
TJ: I have to say that I actually don't know why I put that in my bio since I don't find it, especially telling about myself; I will probably change it. But over the years, I've learned it has both upsides and downsides.
To me, the biggest disadvantage comes when it's time to figure out how to market your work and create projects… Not just in how you craft the presentation but also in the habit of presenting it and framing it within the art world naturally as part of your practice. I started creating because I was inspired by artists I saw on social media, so I began learning from that place and being focused on people and validation, especially when you are unsure about why you are doing what you're doing and whether it is good or bad. You take people's reactions as an affirmation of its worth.
Shifting from that mindset to the one I have today has been a long journey, with many ups and downs. Social media makes us believe we will only be valued if we feed the algorithm and get instant feedback, which I find to be a great lie is convenient for some people to make us believe.
The good part is that I believe when you study art, it can open your view to many other things—or it can do the opposite. I believe that when you have a framework for what is and isn't art, it can limit you creatively and prevent you from doing things that take you away from your beliefs. Instead, when you don't have this formal training, you are simply like, "Oh, this looks good," and that can take you to interesting places.
But in the end, I think everything is the same; every person has their unique path, and you never stop learning, growing, and discovering new things about yourself if you are willing to do so, whether you are self-taught or not. If you want something, even unconsciously, you will find a way to get to that point and align with your values.
F: Can you describe what a moment of "intrigue" feels like for you when you know you've found something worth capturing?
TJ: When I'm shooting around, I actually feel kind of like a kid. I see more things that intrigue me than things that don't, and I just take pictures of them without knowing exactly what I like or if I find them useful.
Sometimes, it's the light. Sometimes, it's something strange or aesthetically beautiful, and I can be moved by feelings of awe or curiosity. Sometimes, these pictures spend years in folders.
At the same time, I keep taking more pictures, and eventually, when I look through these folders, one day one of those pics, something I liked, works for an idea I just had or works as a composite with another picture I just took, or I see beauty where I hadn't seen it before and use them, both to create a composite or as a photograph itself.
F: What role does Photoshop play in your creative process? Is it where the emotion takes shape or where the story reveals itself?
TJ: "Where the story reveals itself" is a beautiful way to put it, and yes, many times it works like that.
I rarely have a plan when I'm shooting, even when I shoot with people. I usually have some ideas in mind, and some of the final pictures are the result of these ideas, but I don't like things to be too fixed and always leave at least 60% room for improvisation.
Later, when I'm working in Photoshop, that's when the images and feelings come to me, and I get a clearer sense of what I want to convey with them.
From the very beginning, one of the things that intrigued me about photography, in addition to playing with natural light, which I love, was manipulation. So, I see Photoshop as a canvas, as if I were a painter, and I mean it in the sense that you can really take a photograph or any other asset and build something completely different with it.
Something I feel many people don't understand about the role of Photoshop in photography, especially when they look at it from a photography perspective, is that many times, we are not interested in using Photoshop for photographs; we are interested in using photographs for Photoshop, especially when it comes to composite work.
F: Your work often features animals, and especially cats. What draws you to animals, and to cats in particular, as subjects?
TJ: I've always loved animals, and growing up, both my brother and I always wanted a dog, but my mother never wanted one.
When I was in my early twenties, living with an ex-boyfriend and his cat, my love for animals deepened drastically and opened a strong appreciation for cats. I had a very special relationship with his cat, and it changed the way I saw them.
But the animal that has changed me the most and made me especially sensitive to animals in general, leading me to question and change my eating habits is my dog. I see my dog in every animal I look at; it really has changed so many things.
Animals are such an important part of my everyday life that it was only a matter of time before they showed up in some form in my work.
As for cats in particular, it has also been a matter of availability and aesthetics. For example, I created many AI-generated cats while trying to find the perfect pose for an image I was working on. Eventually, I had so many cats that I started adding them to my work. It's a mix of different things. I think that simply adding a cat to a landscape photograph adds a sense of dimension, which I really like.
F: Do you have cats / pets, if so, tell us more about them.
TJ: Yes, I have a dog. She is the cutest, sweetest, most carefree, funniest, friendliest, happiest, and most positive dog ever. She is the most beautiful being I have ever met. She is also extremely stubborn. She doesn't care about anything and does everything from a place of self-love, in a good sense. She especially likes to pee on top of things when we are out on our walks, like a piece of paper or some random leaves on the ground.
Sometimes, she suddenly and mysteriously forgets how to jump on the sofa, and I have to lift her every time she wants to get on. And it doesn't matter what she is doing—whether she is eating or sniffing whatever on our walk—if you rub her belly, she will raise one of her back paws so you can rub it comfortably without stopping what she's doing.
F: There's something both familiar and enigmatic in the way you photograph animals. Are you trying to capture something we normally overlook in animals?
TJ: I haven't captured many of the animals portrayed in my works; they're taken from stock images or created with AI, and then I Photoshop them into my pictures.
To me, they are not the main characters in most cases; the space and atmosphere are, and the animals are an element of the narrative where I can project myself. I see them as alter egos, just as I see myself when I'm exploring the natural world and contemplating nature. I wanted to have a subject to project myself into a scene for all the pictures of spaces in nature I have, without the need to meet someone to go out and take pictures or take self-portraits, and very naturally, I started introducing them.
Most of them are foxes, cats, wolves, or coyotes. I think it's because I see them as independent and solitary, which reflects my own experience contemplating nature. But ultimately, the way they seem to interact with the space is what allows me to feel, and I think others might feel this too—that I can interact with the space in the image through them—like a window into my inner world. Maybe that's what gives them a magical or otherworldly feel within everyday life, or, as you say, a familiar and enigmatic quality.
F: In your bio, you said your art bridges the psychological and spiritual. What does that bridge look like for you? Do you feel closer to yourself or to something larger when you create?
TJ: Yes, I think I badly phrased that part in my bio—I'll probably change it too. What I meant is that creating can be a way to reveal things about our inner selves, both from a psychological and a spiritual perspective. It's like a mirror, a tool to make the unconscious conscious, that helps me reflect on things and uncover truths, patterns, and thoughts I wasn't even aware of until I saw them visually. That is why it feels like a bridge between my inner world and everyday life as I know it from a logical-mind perspective.
There is a story my mother told me long before I was interested in visual arts. She says that during a difficult period in my childhood, one day, when we got home (I loved drawing, as many other kids do), I drew a beast, and after that, everything started to improve—as if I had released something. I love this story because it is similar to what visual art is for me today: putting things visually helps me release emotions and understand myself and the world.
F: Many of your photos feel like quiet invitations into a deeper world. Do you think mystery is essential to your work?
TJ: Yes, I think it is essential to life. And I have a very introspective personality so in the same way that I wonder about things and the unknown, it reflects in my work.
F: You aim not to create fantasy but to reveal the extraordinary in the ordinary. What have you learned about "the ordinary" through your lens?
TJ: That it is a facade, and everything is extraordinary.
F: How do you hope people feel when they look at your art? Is there a specific kind of emotional or spiritual reaction you hope to spark?
TJ: It makes me happy to think that someone can look at my work and feel something, but I don't expect to spark a specific emotion. Whatever they feel or think is interesting to me. To me, my work expresses hope, or at least I create it from that place most of the time, and it is what I feel when I look at it. However, some people have told me that it looks like a horror movie or that it is scary, which I find very funny and interesting. Ultimately, with time, you learn to distinguish in advance more easily what will be more "resonant" to others and what won't. But when I create or share something, it's from a place of expression and intention. I'm not thinking about what others will feel or think but about what I feel or think, at least most of the time. However, if I catch myself wondering about others' perceptions, I remind myself why I do what I do and let that feeling go. I don't want to give the impression of perfection or superiority; it is normal and important to let yourself feel fear, doubt, and want to be loved. Yet, over time, I've come to realize more and more that I really create for myself, and it's beautiful to see it can touch someone else, in any form. This way, it doesn't matter what reaction I get from others. I feel fulfilled because I'm doing what I do from a place of fullness, not emptiness, seeking others to fill that place. It's more about the act of giving than receiving—and not even giving, but just letting it be.
F: Any favorite artists and music / book recommendations?
TJ: Artists: Dara Lobeira, Jonna Jinton, and Melania Brescia come to mind. Not only because I like their art but also admire their tenderness and connection to nature.
Music: I'm going to mention The Cinematic Orchestra, Apparat, and Christian Löffler. Among many others... But I love every single song Christian Löffler creates. I like very different music but the most I listen to is electronic, especially minimal techno and music with many little sounds and "textures" that feel like they are telling you a story. You never get tired of listening to the same song because you always discover something new.
Books: I'm trying to read more this year and I have discovered so many great books recently that I wouldn't know which one to choose, but now I'm so in love reading The Red Book by Carl Gustav Jung (which have been sitting in my home for more than one year until now,) and Claros del bosque (Forest Glades) by María Zambrano. I feel like both books, in some form and in different ways, force you to leave reasoning and general knowledge aside, be open, and make use of a more intuitive understanding, which I think is great for creativity.
F: What's next for you, any new themes or ideas you're currently exploring?
TJ: One of the things I'm currently working on is to collect photographs of eyes from people from different parts of the world. I have asked people on my social media to send me photos so I can photoshop them into photographs of trees. I want this to be a statement of unity between people within a larger idea I have in mind. So, if someone reading this would like to participate, they can reach out to me through social media with their email address, and I will send them an email with more details.
We thank Taysa for sharing her story with us. You can visit her website and follow her on social.
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