Photographs of pole dance performers typically capture the clash of pitch black clubs and neon clothing; strands of glitter hair reflecting the intensity of the flash. But Michella Bredahl knows these figures on a deeper, respectful level. Years ago, Bredahl started going to pole dancing classes in Copenhagen, and would trade lessons for photographs with the more seasoned performers. Then, in 2019, she debuted Chassé, a short film at the Rotterdam Film Festival that chronicled Copenhagen’s nightlife workers, and their pursuits of regular things––like love and relationships––that everyone wants.
Bredahl’s work often cuts at this intersect of unknown, somewhat misunderstood people, and how their lives are as normal as the same ones who choose to project their misunderstandings. It was present in Chassé, it was present in her photobook Love Me Again, inspired by her years as a young, gazed-upon model, and how she filled in the gaps of who she truly was through the gazes of young women like her. It’s present, too, in her latest project: the book everyth!ng 001, created in collaboration with stylist Lotta Volkova and creative director Bruce Usher.
The first in a series of books from Usher, everyth!ng 001 sees pole dancers – many of whom Bredahl knew before this project – performing their practise in a domestic setting, atypical to the club. What’s more, they’re styled by Volkova in their own garments and Miu Miu AW24. Their contorted bodies––carrying real, live spirit–– might seem incongruous to their living rooms, studios, bedrooms on first inspection, but just like any other artistic endeavour, what they love seems to bleed into every corner of their life.
Here, in three informative answers, Bredahl brings us up to speed on the making of everyth!ng 001.
Who is your first port of call when it comes to working on a project like this? Who in your dance circle did you reach out to and what did they bring that informed how the rest of the images came together?
I know a lot of people in the dance community because I have many friends who are professional dancers. I have been involved as a photographer in the dance community for many years and with many different dance art forms, especially pole dance. But this one actually started slowly over a long period of time, while I lived here in Paris. I’ve been taking private lessons with various pole dancers for a few years, and I would take their portraits in exchange for classes. I have a sloping roof at home, so I don’t have a pole myself, so I would often come to their home instead to pole. Then this idea slowly started to grow, which coincided with Lotta and I wanting to work together, so I presented this idea of shooting a series of pole dancers in their homes to her. We started talking about how we could bring clothes into it. I reached out to the pole dancers I knew, who recommended other pole dancers to me, and then it grew quite naturally from there.
There’s something really beautiful about these intimate images with expressive dancers, and garments that, on paper, feel incongruous to the people wearing them. Could you each describe the places where you and Lotta’s worlds and aesthetics intersect?
First of all, these dancers are incredibly talented and could do things I couldn’t even imagine. They made it look so graceful. They brought a lot of authenticity and beauty to the images. And by allowing us to shoot them in their own private moments, it gave us access to memories, history and life. It’s usually what moves us, this feeling of authenticity, at least for me. We are not trying to hide the fact that we wanted to explore what it would do to the clothes and what it would do to the pole dancers while wearing clothes. It’s a part of the pictures, this discrepancy… or incongruity. It’s because of this, that I think something honest and also a bit of humour emerges. I usually photograph people in their own clothes because what interests me as a photographer is people’s own natural habitat. By trying to blend together what interests us both, something else emerges from it. It was also an experiment for all of us, the pole dancers, Lotta and I. I think that’s why something genuine emerges from these images.
Beyond the obvious – photography and styling – did either yourself or Lotta feel particularly about a certain element of this project?
We didn’t have a set designer, but location is really important to me in my photography. I love how a space can tell something about the person, the past or the present. It makes it cinematic. And I love cinema. I have a background in it. I went to film school for 4 years, so I know how important space is in telling a story. And I watch a hell of a lot of films. Sometimes two a day. I spend a lot of time thinking about the location. I don’t like shooting in a studio, so we had to spend a lot of time planning the shoot days. We had to go to so many locations, which made it a bit exhausting, moving to a new location all the time in one day. Yet it also brought a new excitement and diversity into the images, and also into us. All these immediate things created a lot of chaos. To me I like to work with chaos, because it brings a lot of real things into the images. Things you can’t come up with. Try and organise the chaos, but leave some to capture in the images. To me it’s about giving space for life to unfold and let everyone bring some of themselves into it. Casting is also really important to me and I always do it myself. There’s a lot of work involved, and I usually meet with people before I shoot them. Those two elements are probably what I feel are the most important parts of my photography that I don’t leave to others. It’s just as important to me as taking the picture, all the decisions that are made before I take the picture that I am part of it.
