New Work; If you know, you know.
Over the past months, I’ve immersed myself in the slow and tactile world of analogue photography. In an effort to deepen my artistic practice, I took over an old darkroom and transformed it into a space where I can develop film, make prints, and experiment with light, chemistry, and paper. CBK Rotterdam gave me a subsidy to incorporate analogue photography in my current artist practice, and I was able to spend a six months research period.
If you know, you know – my queerest work to date.
FILM CAPURES WHAT DIGITALLY CAN’T
Return to the darkroom.
There’s a certain kind of magic that only exists in the dark. The red glow, the smell of chemistry, the silence between exposures. Lately, I’ve been chasing that feeling — working deeper into analogue processes, touching every step of the image until it becomes something physical, imperfect, alive.
Lately, I’ve been fully immersed in analogue work — developing film, testing exposures, and printing by hand in my own rebuilt darkroom. I took over an old doka and transformed it into a space where I can lose myself for hours, surrounded by trays, test strips, and that unmistakable smell of developer. With guidance from Maurice Brandts, I’ve been refining my process — learning how to let go of control while still shaping the image with intention.
There’s something deeply grounding about watching an image appear slowly on paper, as if it’s breathing itself into existence. It’s a quiet conversation between chemistry and intuition — the kind of process that reminds me why I started making art in the first place.
This series is born from that darkness. Every print holds a trace of touch, a hint of unpredictability, a moment suspended in silver.
Building my own dakroom.
It started with an empty room and a need to slow down. After years of working digitally, I wanted to feel photography again — to smell it, touch it, lose myself in it. So I decided to build my own darkroom from scratch.
The process was part experiment, part devotion. I collected old equipment, rewired safelights, sealed every gap to keep the darkness pure. Each small decision — from choosing the enlarger to mixing the first batch of chemicals — became an act of intention.
This space has become more than just a place to print. It’s a sanctuary for process, failure, and discovery. There’s something deeply humbling about standing in the dark, waiting for an image to appear in the tray, knowing that every mistake is also a teacher.
Working here has reconnected me with the essence of why I make images: the tension between control and surrender, precision and chance. Every print that leaves the darkroom carries that energy — a piece of time, light, and patience.
If you know, you know - autonomous series
In queer communities, not everything is said out loud. We’ve learned to speak in symbols, body language, fashion choices, and flirtatious looks — not only to find each other, but to protect ourselves. These codes are survival tactics, but also tools of connection, seduction, and play.
A subtle nod. A shared reference. A knowing glance.
This exhibition taps into that unspoken language. What might look like stillness holds tension. What seems playful might carry history. Every image is layered — charged with meaning for those who know how to read it.
If you know, you know.
Desire is never neutral. It’s shaped by who we are, what we’ve survived, and what we long for. In these works, kink and fetish aren’t just erotic — they’re also emotional, symbolic, even spiritual.
Power becomes fluid. Roles get blurred.
Choosing analogue film wasn’t just an aesthetic decision — it was political. The slow, physical process of shooting, developing, and printing allowed space for care, trust, and presence. No quick fixes, no instant deletes. The work embraces texture, imperfection, and intimacy. Over the course of an 8-month research project, Versteeg explored the layered ways desire, identity, and power intersects with queer spaces.
Just chemistry.
This body of work doesn’t ask for permission or explanation — it speaks in codes, gestures, and glances.
If you know, you know.
This series isn’t just photography — some images are 3-d collages, others are printes on glass or mirrors. Each image is printed by hand in black and white, and some are directly printed onto pastel magenta paper, giving the work a subtle tension between monochrome clarity and unexpected color. The choice of paper isn’t just aesthetic; it interacts with the shadows, highlights, and tactile surfaces of each print, adding a new dimension to the analogue process.
Every piece carries traces of touch, experimentation, and patience — a meeting point between traditional darkroom techniques and playful, physical collage. It’s about slowing down, feeling the material, and letting the image exist somewhere between reality and imagination.The full series can be viewed on my website — a quiet space where the images can breathe the way they were meant to.
All the images are also sold as high quality museum prints, you can view all the available prints in my shop queerfineartprints.shop
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