Artist in conversation: Maximilian Vermilye

‘I would study the shapes of clouds, imagining creatures and faces in them, playing out stories in my mind as the world passed by.’

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Maximilian Vermilye creates digital art where, by using mobile photography and flip technique, he reveals to the public fantastical creatures and imagery concealed in hidden universes all around us but invisible to the common eye. This is pioneering a new wave of visual artistry that Vermilye has named psychodynamic photography. In psychodynamic photography the artist captures an image, modulates it on the go, and transforms it to construct a new meaning. Each observer sees the art piece in a unique way, interpreting it individually and through their emotions. This creates a personal connection between the photograph, photographer, and the public. The work of art through this process becomes a multilateral piece - the artist creates photographs that interact with the viewer, communicating in a personal language one’s subconscious secrets.

What initially in spired you to become an artist, and how did you develop your unique style?

I’ve been taking photos since I was a child, starting with a camera my mother gave me when I was 12. From the beginning, I was fascinated with capturing moments and preserving them. As I grew older, I explored different forms of art, including a brief career in fashion as a personal stylist. During that time, I learned about color theory and visual balance from industry leaders in London. I often wandered along Kensington High Street, seeking inspiration, and studying how people expressed different ideas and cultures through their clothing.

As time went on, I rekindled my passion for photography. Unlike fashion, which often required more time to translate ideas into reality, photography allowed me to quickly turn my thoughts into creations. I realized that I had a powerful tool always within reach—my phone, which doubled as a camera and computer. This shifted my approach. I was no longer just capturing moments; I could now conceive an idea, snap the image, and immediately turn it into art. With just a swipe of my fingers, I could find the right angle, make adjustments and fine-tune details, transforming my entire hand into a brush. It was during this process that everything clicked. The angles and visuals I once observed on the streets were now all around me, ready to be captured. This marked the beginning of my journey into serious photography and digital art.

As for how I developed my style—it started with a habit I formed on long journeys, gazing out of train windows while traveling through Switzerland. I would study the shapes of clouds, imagining creatures and faces in them, playing out stories in my mind as the world passed by. Soon, I began applying this to everything around me. I noticed how the right light hitting the corner of a building could make it resemble an eye or how a tree branch could look like the face of a creature from a certain angle. This curiosity led me to search for hidden stories in the mundane.

It felt like falling down the rabbit hole in Alice in Wonderland, discovering new worlds every day. What fascinated me even more was when I shared my artwork with others. While I might see one thing in my creations, others often saw something entirely different. This encouraged me to keep creating—providing people with canvases where their imaginations could roam free. My art became like a Rorschach test, not with ink blots, but with worlds that I had twisted and transformed, leaving them open for others to interpret and discover pieces of themselves within.

Do you have any rituals or routines that help you get into a creative mindset when starting a new project?

Getting out and seeing the world is really the beginning and end of it for me. When I am in a new location, I always take new shots of angles I haven’t seen before. Maybe a new piece of graffiti gives me an idea or new architecture in a new city I am visiting will give me an inspiration. The truth of it is that my brain is constantly firing off, like a rubber ball fired out of a cannonball bouncing around a concrete room from subject to disjointed subject. Sometimes those thoughts by chance merge with what the world has presented in front of me and it’s in those moments when I pull out my camera and take out a shot to try and combine the two. Maybe its the history of a particular location I am at or just a wholly unique building style that gives me stories of the future in my mind. And when I am not traveling, all the shots I have collected sit in storage for me to browse through for inspiration on a rainy day. Sometimes I will pick a piece and have a feeling about an idea and will start many different drafts of it, trying over and over until it feels right. Truth is though, the ones I spend the most time going over and over on never feel as good as the ones that I was able to capture and create in the moment of the inspiration. Lightning bolt inspirational moments always stick out more to me than slowly crafted and meticulously forged artworks.

How has technology, especially mobile photography, influenced your artistic process, and how do you see it shaping the future of visual artistry?

The rapid advancement in technology has led to the shrinking of everyday electronic devices, while the power they possess continues to grow exponentially. In my lifetime, I’ve witnessed programs that now load in nanoseconds, whereas as a child, I remember patiently waiting through one loading screen after another on the old family computer just to access them. The shift from keyboards to touchscreens has also been a pivotal change, especially for digital artists. As tactile beings, we naturally mold the world with our hands, a practice that stretches back beyond memory. Now, we can bring a more personal touch to our two-dimensional digital creations, much like children discovering colors for the first time with paintbrushes. These technological breakthroughs are both a blessing and a double-edged sword for today’s artists. The tools needed to create digital art have never been more accessible or easier to use. In fact, the average mobile phone today holds more power than the computers that rendered the groundbreaking CGI in the original Jurassic Park films. However, while it's easier than ever to create and share art, it’s also harder to stand out. With so many artists sharing their work, the competition has become more intense, and rising above the noise is more difficult than ever.

What inspires you to explore fantastical creatures and imagery in your digital art, and how do you choose the subjects for your photographs?

It's not that I intentionally set out to create these creatures, but rather that I discover them within my work. When I capture an image, it's because I’ve noticed something in the world that resembles something else. For example, the façade of a tall building at night, with lights on in only certain rooms, might appear to have eyes and a smile. Or curled tree branches on a winter’s day in the forest might look like the arm of something wicked and sinister. When I see these elements, I try to capture the image, knowing I’ll bring the rest of the creature to life when I get to my digital drawing board. The final form is often revealed by flipping the photo and making small adjustments to the inverted image, gradually transforming the original idea into a reality.

Are there any particular artists or movements that have influenced your work?

During my time working as a stylist in London, I began to see the world in a new way. Watching fashion shows and observing how ideas and critiques were expressed through fabric deeply inspired me. Designers who used clashing colors were breaking the rules of color theory I had studied, showing how breaking conventions and embracing extravagant forms could create a fantasy. Each person on the catwalk seemed to tell a different chapter of the artist's story. This experience challenged me to view the world through a different lens. It was around this time that I began to pay closer attention to people on the street, thinking about what they were communicating through their clothing. Over time, my focus shifted from individuals to entire scenes and landscapes, with vivid images forming in my mind that told a story about the world. Details that were once hidden in the corners started to stand out to me. This mindset became even more critical when I transitioned full-time into photography, as it pushed me to constantly look at the world from new perspectives. If I had to compare my approach to that of a particular artist, Picasso’s Cubism comes to mind. I found a sense of kinship in the way odd shapes come together in their own unique form, which resonated with my psychodynamic photography style.

How do you incorporate feedback from critics and audiences into your artistic practice, and how do you balance this feedback with your own artistic intuition?

For me, receiving feedback from others is always a pleasure. What might seem obvious to me during the creative process often appears entirely different to someone else, and I find that fascinating. So far, I haven’t encountered much openly negative criticism of my work. Strangely enough, this absence of strong reactions sometimes leaves me feeling uneasy. I crave that introspection and emotional response from my audience, and when a piece doesn’t evoke that, I start questioning myself. I run through the dreaded thought, Did this come across as generic? Especially when I was hoping for deeper insight from someone.

How do you stay motivated and inspired despite any setbacks or creative blocks you may encounter?

For me, art is a way to either vent or play after a long day, or sometimes it becomes the goal of my day when I can carve out a moment just for myself. Creativity often comes to me in concentrated bursts. There are times when I’ll have an afternoon or a few days where hundreds of ideas flow, and I create many works in a short span. Other times, I can go months without a single spark, sifting through my online archive of collected photographs, trying to find inspiration or working on a piece that hasn’t quite hit the mark I envisioned. What helps is remembering to take a step back from life’s responsibilities and find a moment where I can breathe. When I give myself that space, all the pent-up ideas in my head tend to spill out. I wouldn’t say I’m consistently creative, but over time, as I sharpen my photography and editing skills, I’ve learned to grasp even the faintest of ideas and bring them to life. On the flip side, I also recognize that sometimes the creative tank runs empty, and it needs time to rest and recharge. I’ve come to accept these periods of absence of creativity, as a necessary part of the process.

How do you feel about exhibiting your artworks with The Holy Art Gallery?

I'm incredibly excited to have the opportunity to display a few of my pieces at The Holy Art Gallery. It's an honour to be included in such a dynamic space that consistently showcases innovative and thought-provoking work. Even though I'm only contributing a few select art works, I feel they truly represent the direction my art is taking right now, and I'm eager to see how they resonate with the gallery’s audience.

Looking ahead, what are your long-term goals and aspirations as an artist, and how do you plan to achieve them?

I have two kinds of goals when it comes to my art. Part of me wants my work to be widely recognized, something displayed in many places that inspires introspection and storytelling in people—maybe even a grand tale that begins with my creations. On the other hand, I enjoy the idea of my art remaining niche, reserved for those who actively seek it out. As an artist, I still grapple with the desire for recognition and fame, which, in turn, could provide significant income that validates my creativity. At the same time, I find beauty in creating art purely for the joy of creation, without any expectations attached. I also dream of my work being embraced in the gaming world, a space that has inspired me since I was a child. It would be incredible for my son to one day see my artwork in a game he plays. Or perhaps, my work will find value in another space that appreciates what I create.

What role does emotion play in your creative process, and and how do you aim to evoke specific feelings or reactions from those who view your artworks?

Emotions truly are the hands that shape the clay of an artist's creativity. In moments of joy, deep sadness, or intense anger, the strokes we make on a page or screen as our creations come to life reflect the emotions that dominate us. A beautiful sunset, for example, can evoke sorrow—a twilight symbolizing something that once was but has passed. Similarly, the rising moon at night might stir feelings of loneliness and fear, but add a single star, and suddenly people recall romantic memories of a night spent with a partner, when the world felt as though it existed just for them. When trying to evoke emotions in others, you can’t reduce it to a science beyond what makes sense to yourself. The more your art speaks to you, the more likely it will resonate with others. When you’re angry, the intensity and firmer strokes you use—whether with a physical brush or on a digital screen—leave their mark, often resulting in jagged, erratic formations. When you’re happy, a single gentle line can reflect that calm and peaceful energy. It’s when you fully embrace the emotion of the moment and the story you want to tell that you begin to convey those same feelings to others, giving life to your work. Emotions are particularly crucial in psychodynamic photography. The viewer’s emotional state often determines what they see in the art, revealing things that may remain hidden to others. A shape in the artwork might look like a monster to one person and an angel to another, depending on their emotions. In psychodynamic photography, the artist captures an image, then transforms and modulates it to construct new meaning. Each observer interprets the piece through their own emotions, creating a personal connection between the photograph and the audience. The work of art through this process becomes a multilateral piece - the artist creates photographs that interact with the viewer, communicating in a personal language one’s subconscious secrets, why I like to refer to my art pieces as my own personal Rorschach.