Inheriting Dreams: curated by Max Saula: Essay by Christian Cajoulle

We are thrilled to announce our upcoming exhibition: "Inheriting Dreams",  curated by Max Saula, a nineteen-year-old, son of the gallery's founders.

 

There is something magical in observing the world through the fresh gaze of youth: that unlimited curiosity that dares to discover the extraordinary in the everyday.

 

In "Inheriting Dreams," this idea comes to life through Max Saula, a nineteen-year-old young man, son of the gallery's founders.

 

The exhibition explores how photography becomes a bridge between different ages and perspectives. How does it influence our family relationships? How do we transmit the passion for beauty?

 

Each photograph has been selected for its ability to communicate, becoming a faithful companion in our lives.

 

The images inhabit the space where one generation's experience meets the sensitivity of the next, weaving invisible bonds between past, present, and future.

 

This exhibition celebrates the transformative power of photography and its capacity to unite us. It invites us to rediscover our surroundings and experience the inspiration that only art can provide.

 

As you walk through the gallery, you will see how photography manifests as a dynamic language, in continuous evolution and charged with personal meanings.

 

At the same time, you will be able to enjoy a selection of photographers from different eras whose images—captured over the last hundred years—stimulate intergenerational dialogue.

 

We invite you to discover how photography can enrich your life, becoming a legac culture and sensitivity that is transmitted from parents to children.

 

 

" Inheriting Dreams". Essay by Christian Cajoulle.

 

"My father was collecting photographs long before I was born, and from a young age my parents took me to exhibitions, galleries, and fairs. For me, unlike many of my friends, photographs hanging on the walls were simply a part of everyday life—I grew up surrounded by them."

 

At just nineteen years old, Max Saula speaks about his relationship with photography with modesty ("I have a lot to learn"), genuine enthusiasm ("there are photos I was immediately drawn to, and still truly cherish"), and quiet determination.

 

As he prepares to install his first exhibition in the family gallery, established in 2021, Max approaches the opportunity with a practical mindset and a sense of humility. He does not overanalyze his role; he is not posturing as a seasoned gallerist or a novice curator—even if, in some ways, he is a bit of both. Above all, he feels profound gratitude toward his parents and the trust they have in him. What truly drives him, though, is a sincere need for authenticity. He approaches his work as an amateur in the truest sense—a passionate admirer of the art—and has chosen to display only photographs for which he feels genuine affection.

 

Max is also fully aware that one's relationship with images evolves over time, a fact he has experienced personally: "Some photographs I wanted immediately have sometimes lost a little of their magic, while others—photographs I may not have understood or valued at first—have become essential to me. You learn to look, to really see. My father taught me a great deal."

 

Naturally, Max has curated a selection of photographs that are familiar to him, that he holds dear, and that he wishes to share. The result is an eclectic mix—largely black and white, with subtle flashes of color—dominated by American photographers from the twentieth century, with a few works reaching into the present. The collection doesn't champion any single style or "school." While there are a handful of images exploring movement or abstraction, humanity is always at the heart.

 

From portraits to street scenes, from classic documentaries bearing unmistakable signatures to images revealing the traces left by humans in their environment, the overall impression is one of classicism—infused with delightful surprises and even a hint of humor. The whole selection radiates the pleasure of choices made freely, without being confined by fashions or trends.

 

Being a gallerist is a unique vocation: acting as an intermediary and facilitator between an artwork and its audience. The first duty is to defend the artists, which sometimes means selling artworks the galleristmight wish to keep. Too many people, unfortunately, see only the business side. But there is much more to it: at its core, the process is one of exchange. An object is exchanged for money, yes, but it's also an exchange of viewpoints, emotions, and ideas. The gallerist is not simply selling—he is transmitting.

 

At the heart of this remarkable initiative—made possible by his parents' encouragement—Max is able to share the photographs he treasures with others. In doing so, he also becomes the representative of a new and younger generation: a generation accustomed to viewing images—especially moving ones—on all kinds of screens, large and small, rather than studying prints and appreciating their subtleties.

 

How can this generation be introduced to the depth of photography—images crafted with care, in front of which Max Saula "imagines the photographer's presence, tries to guess their intentions, and understand what inspired them to release the shutter, to compose the shot"? Likely by inviting viewers to slow down, to linger before the photographs, to look beyond the superficial. Achieving this probably requires a blend of surprise and emotion, precise composition, and touches of dreaminess or whimsy—elements that can spark curiosity and, gradually, shape the way viewers perceive images. Learning how to look—really look—is always essential; from there, each person will decide what resonates most with them.

 

This is why Max Saula's first exhibition is more than just a source of enjoyment—it raises questions about today's ever-changing relationship to images. With technology speeding this evolution, the show invites us to ask: "What am I looking at? What do I really see?" It makes us compare the lasting presence of an image fixed in silver salts to the fleeting images shared for fun on a whim.

 

Most visitors will bring a mobile phone with them; the greatest wish we can extend to Max and his parents is that, even when visitors eventually see these images on their phone screens, they realize there is something uniquely different about what they witnessed on the walls. And, of course, that many young people Max's age will be inspired to visit as well.

 

Christian Caujolle

Curator, Writer, Journalist and Educator