Stepping into the world of Marjolein Martinot’s Riverland, published by Stanley/Barker, feels like a gentle, much needed breath of fresh air. From the moment the blind-stamped, navy-blue hardback reveals its inverted image beneath the cover, you’re drawn into a deeply personal yet universally resonant journey. As someone who’s always found solace and inspiration in the tactile beauty of a well-crafted photobook, my own background in comic book lettering, logo design, and book packaging has instilled in me a profound appreciation for exceptional design and thoughtful font work, Stanley/Barker’s commitment to creating objects of art shines through immediately. This isn’t just a book, it’s an experience crafted with care, hinting at the quiet magic held within its pages.

The journey into Riverland began during a period of intense personal turmoil for Martinot, a Dutch photographer and mother of six. Amidst the global shadows of the Covid pandemic and her own crossroads, she found herself seeking solace in the rhythmic, calming presence of nature. Each evening, a ritual began, a walk to a nearby river in the South of France, camera in hand. What appeared from these wanderings was more than just photographs, it was a form of visual journaling, a quiet meditation on healing and transformation. The unpredictability of the water, ever flowing, mirrored her own emotional state, while the fleeting encounters with families and animals at the river’s edge jumping, splashing, climbing, swinging from trees embodied a warmth and belonging she yearned for. This deeply personal origin story is what immediately drew me in, reminding me of those times in my own life when the camera became a tool not just for seeing, but for feeling my way through challenging moments, finding grounding in the act of creation.

What truly sets Riverland apart is its seamless fusion of the deeply personal with the universally resonant. Martinot speaks of picking up a film camera during lockdown, not to make a book, but to stay grounded. What she discovered was her own fairy tale unfolding by the rivers of France, an unexpected path back to herself. This echoes the very essence of why I gravitate towards photography, and why I believe it’s a powerful art form, it’s a way to process, to heal, and to articulate emotions when words simply aren’t enough. The spontaneous, un staged nature of most of the book’s scenes, captured with analogue cameras, means she often only knows if she “got the shot” later, adding a layer of genuine surprise and raw authenticity to the work. It’s this trust in gut feeling, this embracing of the unknown, that infuses her photographs with such a palpable sense of truth and emotional weight and a step I am adding to my own project as I now plan to visit each graveyard with my analogue camera and film to see what I can do on each site.

The book is bathed predominantly in the soft, golden light of dusk or the nascent glow of dawn, a deliberate choice that creates a poetic mood throughout. This emphasis on light’s quality deeply influences the emotional depth of Riverland, transforming fleeting moments into something ethereal and almost dreamlike. As a photographer constantly chasing light in my own work, I deeply appreciate how Martinot meticulously uses light to sculpt her scenes and enhance their emotional resonance. She crafts a distinct atmosphere, a feeling of gentle enchantment that pulls you deeper into her world.

Within Riverland, certain images rise from the flow, catching the light in a way that feels intensely personal yet universally familiar. There’s one truly lovely shot that resonates with my own quiet chase for wonder in the grit of Aberdeen. It looks up through some grass at two horses, one white and one black, both looking so happy and content with life. Horses, for me, possess an innate beauty and grace, but these two, with their comfortable and settled demeanour, evoke a profound sense of peace. It’s a reminder of those simple, unguarded moments of joy found in nature.

Another image, seen from behind, captures a woman sitting on a grassy bank, her bag beside her, gazing into the river. The stillness and calm of the scene are almost palpable. I can’t help but imagine the quiet thoughts flowing through her mind, the profound sense of peace that a walk amidst beautiful scenery can bring, a gentle recentring when the world feels overwhelming. This image speaks directly to the therapeutic power of nature, a theme that consistently draws me to photographic works.

Martinot’s ability to find beauty in the ‘off norm’ is an eye opener. I often struggle to find “new” things to shoot in my daily walks with the dog, feeling limited by familiar landscapes. Yet, Riverland presents stunning shots that challenge this perception. There’s an image of tree bark with writing in it, a humble yet profound discovery that reminds me to look beyond the obvious. Many of my own walks feature trees like these, and I’ll certainly be taking note from now on. Similarly, the distant shot of two guys in the river, perfectly framed by a tree on the right, as one looks on while his companion (friend, brother, dad?) does a handstand with just his feet poking out of the water, showcases an incredible eye for unexpected, spontaneous moments. It’s these subtle details, the “small magic” Martinot finds, that elevate the everyday into art.

Then there’s an image that captures rocks sitting on a bigger rock, like ancient standing stones, beneath the leaves of a tree branch and next to the river. The stillness of the water perfectly reflects the scene, allowing you to see into the depths and the stone steps within the river itself. This image, for me, speaks to the quiet grandeur of nature, the subtle ways history and permanence are etched into the landscape, a theme I constantly grapple with in my “Echoes of the Past” project.

An image that truly resonates, particularly as a married father of three with two disabled children, is one facing the river, stunningly framed by bushes and trees, featuring a couple of tree swings. This scene at once transports me to magical family days out. I’m assuming these are Martinot’s children, enjoying a collective day of carefree joy. It’s precisely these kinds of moments like when my eldest daughter, who moved away for university six years ago, comes home to visit and we go to the circus, the farm, or simply for a walk that make you realise why you’re here, why you do everything you do. These are the profound, unquantifiable moments that ground us and remind us of the simple, potent magic of family and connection.

Marjolein Martinot’s Riverland is a testament to the power of photography as a tool for personal healing and profound connection. It doesn’t just show us beautiful scenes, it invites us to contemplate our own journeys through turmoil, our own searches for solace in nature, and our own definitions of belonging. Bill Shapiro, former Editor-in-Chief at LIFE Magazine, perfectly encapsulates this, calling Riverland a “poetic response to the dark sci-fi nightmare that was the global pandemic,” with images that “wash over us like a baptism of sorts, offering a new beginning.”

For me, Riverland isn’t just a book about one artist’s experience, it’s a mirror reflecting universal truths about resilience, connection, and the subtle, magical beauty that can be found in the everyday, even amidst the most challenging times. It’s a book that encourages us to pick up our own cameras, to venture out, and to truly see the moments of quiet grace that surround us, just as I strive to capture the silent poetry etched in the gravestones of Aberdeen’s sanctuaries. Martinot reminds us that sometimes, the most profound journeys begin with a simple walk, and the most powerful stories are those we tell ourselves through the lens.

This is a photobook to cherish, to return to when you need a moment of peace, and a reminder that even in darkness, beauty, hope, and connection can be found flowing like a quiet river.

Regards

Alex