A disease that marks the body and tortures the spirit. At any instant, Laurence’s gazes tinged with tenderness and the force of her presence gave her twin sister Sabrina all the love needed for the healing and reconstruction process.

“I hid my cancer from no-one, I refused to be ashamed! No matter their nickname, no matter their form, no matter their size... With or without “assets,” my femininity and my life are not limited to this sexual symbolism! The essential thing is to be in harmony with one’s femininity. I’m wounded, yes, but fully alive and a woman to the tips of my breasts. After cancer, our female body is changed and bruised, but an afterwards exists: our femininity, our sensitivity, our sensuality are still there and are even stronger!” – Corinne

“If there is a real difficulty in this fight against cancer, it is to love oneself. Difficult, in fact, to find oneself beautiful without hair, without eyelashes... Difficult to love one’s weakened body, marked by the signature of various treatments. It’s because it’s difficult but not impossible that I wanted to have a photo of me in which I could find myself beautiful. A little like thumbing my nose at the disease!
I already knew Eloa: she had photographed my children when they were newborns. I asked her if she wanted to accompany me in this adventure. Eloa succeeded in taking a photo in which not only do I love myself, but in which I find myself attractive.” – Ariane

“Loving Oneself” to make one’s heart explode from it. No mise-en-scène for this photo. I met Cécile on a day when her life had been turned upside down. Then she introduced me to Lucile. The woman she loves. The woman who believes in her. The woman who had waited for Cécile for such a long time.

“After some time, one must learn to love oneself again.
So yes, now I think that I can say that I love myself.
I love myself for my new body.
I love myself for my breasts, which are the way they are.
I love myself for having let the other love me.
I love myself for successfully making a little being who brings me alive each day.
I love him.
We are stronger.
To the disease we say FUCK YOU!” – Caroline

Cancer afflicted my mother and hit our family with all its force. So we then set out on the warpath. There are only four of us, and as small as our family may be, we mobilized all our courage, held back our tears and our doubts, and swept away our fears in order to offer our mother all our force. After the battle, remission: learning to love life differently, trying again and again to be in this damn present and to relish what we are. Here and now.
Never have I found my mother more beautiful than she is today, she radiates strength, she’s a conqueror and my father is the mirror of her soul. She says to me: “When someone touches you as though you are the most beautiful person in the world, you believe it. Looking into your father’s eyes, I forget everything. I am reborn.”

“I’m Virginia. He’s called Vincent. We’re a couple – a lovely family – with our three children.
Breast cancer entered our lives in 2016 – the year I turned forty. To love my own image and to appreciate the gaze of others on my image has always played an essential part in my self-esteem. With Sandrine, a photographer friend, herself in love with the human body, we shared our ideas to express in photography the competition theme, “Loving Oneself.”
After the second operation – the removal of my right breast – I knew that I’d have to think about appropriating this “new” chest for myself, living with it, cherishing it, and letting Vincent discover, caress, and cherish it in turn. The photo expresses the sensuality of a “skin-to-skin,” tender and new. Accepting oneself and living this artistic experience as two in order to continue the adventure together.” – Virginia

Starting to live again after a grueling transition. Tasting each day with joy. And telling myself that life begins after 60. I took this photo of my friend in a landscape as simple as it is magnificent. And I liked her joie de vivre after having gone through an ordeal that only life can throw at you.

It’s the story of a friend and of her Pink October.
She asked me to photograph her in order “to keep a souvenir.” The session produced much more. Through the camera, I rediscovered this woman’s force and beauty, that she herself was then doubting.
Later, I offered her a book of photographs from the shoot we’d done together. Her eyes sparkling and a smile on her lips, she said: “I think I look beautiful!” This photo is the proof and the bet was won.

The origin of this photograph is a giant calligraphy I produced. It represents emptiness, in the sense of a primary and raw energy. The realism of a battle. “She who accepts her emptiness can fill her life” and love herself. A special energy is exuded by the world of calligraphy, linked to Taoism, the quest for immortality, and love. There’s no photomontage in this photo: just intense and sometimes indelible ink and a naked woman, fragile but sure of herself. Everything merges to make a whole.

Mirror, mirror on the wall, who will get cancer screening first?
Time isn’t a relay race because I need you in my steps. Healthy breasts. Loving oneself means retorting that I hate you Raising-Breast-Cancer-Awareness. All the slogans for a campaign that I should have been able to find and that should have been able to save you. I am at the age when daughters lose their mothers. I leave a blurred, ice-cold image of a dulled mirror because everyone will see what they want to see and will say “loving oneself is not that.” I trace hypotheses and leave the felt-tip pen of a battle whose song of glory will be sung by a choir.
The reflection of a stigmatized fragment, of an aching light, loving oneself despite. Loving oneself, because love, Mom, is selfish, we want to keep those we love close to us. I need you to take hold of me, take care of yourself, for me, I love you. That’s what loving oneself and loving each other is.

Stefani says that the disease shattered her certainties. That she’d needed to adapt, to give herself the time to learn again about her body. For her, loving oneself means giving oneself the time to gently go through these stages.
We, her friends, wanted to get together on the banks of the Loire River, which she is especially fond of. Water and nature are elements that allow her to recharge her batteries. We placed ourselves around a mirror mounted on a door which opens to her future, to renewal, to her “second life.” Her colorful reflection speaks of life, being positive, love. She bursts into laughter because she once again loves herself through her battle and our support. For her, orange, the color of self-confidence. For us, only the pink of our bracelets, in support of the cause.

“Because cancer transforms us, I have become the bald teacher.
Because loving oneself means learning about oneself.
Because living is better with a smile.
Suddenly, I learned to live with it.” – Stéphanie
Stéphanie, my friend photographed here, has breast cancer. We decided to try all kinds of different haircuts – one like singer Mireille Mathieu’s style, a mullet, punk – before arriving at the phase of shaving the head completely. A moment of great fun mixed with intense emotion. Then I collected her hair to make a beard for her. For me, this photo reflects Stéphanie’s force and wisdom.

Trusting how she would be perceived by my gaze, my friend Astrid warmly welcomed me into her home. After taking several photos, we decided on the one in which her breasts and her camisole formed a heart, which she commented on poetically: “Loving oneself means seeing this heart which has drawn itself on my heart, is seeing the love that was buried inside bloom on the outside on this new body.”

“When the doctors came to tell me what I had, I’d decided I was not going to cry. I had to stay strong. I was in my bubble; I needed to be left in my own space. But the hardest thing of all was when I went to the hairdresser. To lose your hair is to lose a part of your femininity, your identity. It took me a few hours before I could look at myself in the mirror, touch my head.
And then you learn to ‘dress’ your face differently, with jewelry, scarves, and above all color! I was never afraid to go out, I was comfortable with what I’d become, I had a new appearance. I continued to live normally despite it. My everyday life hadn’t really changed; I was lucky to be surrounded by friends, family... It’s important. For me, loving oneself means accepting oneself, no matter the changes, even if they’re radical. It also means accepting the gaze of others and, why not, of letting photos be taken of you!” – Camille

I met Lucie through a common friend. Her force in the fight against the disease immediately made an impression on me, as did her beauty. She is a woman with style and she is careful about her appearance. She loves shoes, dresses... With other women encountered at Saint-Louis Hospital, they created a workshop to learn about tying turbans. Lucie adores turbans; she now has them in all sorts of colors.
From a family of women suffering from the disease, as a photographer I had wanted to show Lucie in this private, everyday moment in front of a mirror that all women are familiar with. Before going out, she dabbed on some lipstick, she had chosen her shoes, put on her dress, adjusted her turban... She’s a beautiful woman who continues to be fond of herself despite the disease and therein lies all her force. I look at her and I then see a Vermeer side to her. Loving oneself is part of healing and recovery.

“Loving Oneself” – Such a big subject!
To be a woman, to feel good in your body and soul is often difficult! And how do you love yourself with this thing... This thing that causes so much fear. The fear of no longer being able to love or to be loved, the fear of losing one’s femininity and also one’s life!
Learning to accept “one’s thing” as Élodie so tenderly calls it. Continuing to feel beautiful in this ordeal: “My thing, it’s been a year since you left my body, you made a real mess of my life. It’s not easy being so weak. Today you’re no longer there and yet you are always present in my life, in my mind, and through my scars... But I also say thanks to you because I’ve become another woman. I don’t hate you.”

“Loving Oneself – Not always easy when one’s suffering from cancer! The body and femininity are sorely tested: treatments, operations, removals, reconstruction, secondary effects... But being married to an incredible man helps you move forward during such an ordeal.
This man who looks at you, caresses you, photographs you, before, during, after the disease, with the same gaze, without ever looking away. This man who had said ‘yes’ for better or for worse, also goes through complicated moments.
But he’s there, supporting you without every faltering in front of you. He helps you remain confident, to understand and accept this body stigmatized by the disease. If he accepts this body, then why wouldn’t I also do it?! Thanks to the other’s love, one can learn to love oneself.
Mr. for the photo, Mrs. for the text and US for the pose.” – Séverine

Accessit Prize 2016
I had wanted to produce a beautiful, simple image, and to tackle the theme “Loving Oneself” within a couple relationship by including the partner in the cancer screening process: at this moment, he is supportive, a presence, but he can also be the initiator of this step. The goal is also to raise men’s awareness about early breast cancer screening. In this photo, a “real” couple who I wanted to photograph in the most natural way possible, without for all that showing their faces thereby allowing any other couple to identify with them.
Really paying attention to the light on these bodies seemed fundamental to me in order to magnify the pure aspect of the nude and the beauty of a powerful moment, that of the presence of two people there for one another at a distressing time.

This announcement, one winter evening: my cousin was going to have to face a terrible ordeal. At her request, this photo session in order to keep a trace of these moments when the words “femininity” and “self-love” become a way not to be overtaken by the disease. She put on fresh makeup, not neglecting any detail. In front of others, she often laughs about herself, her slightly different appearance.
I admire her incredible determination to fight, to not let the disease win. I’d never seen her as feminine, dignified, strong, and fragile all at the same time. I think she’s magnificent!

Who isn’t affected by breast cancer, either through their own story, or that of a family member, or of a friend? When I met Marie, I was immediately moved by her project: to show that, with two breasts or only one, we are beautiful, can love ourselves and be loved! A kind of “phototherapy.”
Marie was able to overcome her own barriers in order to show herself naked in front of the camera and to let herself go so as to pass on her message: love yourself, love life, and show it. Together we chose this photo in which she radiates joy, the happiness of living after a battle which is, despite everything, not quite over yet. In the background, the “Wall of I love you” in Montmartre, Paris, because today more than yesterday, to love oneself and others is the message to convey and share.

A photographer, I began a series of self-portraits in motion a few months after getting the news. It was only a few months later that I understood why I did it. I had needed the liberating expression of my body: an explosion beneath an ethereal envelope, for a rebirth and to learn to love myself.

I’m a novice photographer.
My model, a thirty-two-year-old single mother with two children, dynamic and life-loving, who finished her battle with breast cancer on April 29, 2016. She contacted me to help her by accompanying her in this adventure with photos. I didn’t hesitate a single second. Being naked in this way is the beginning of accepting oneself and the painful past battle.
When it came to the point of view, I wanted to do something different, almost abstract. For my inspiration, I looked through artistic nude photographs, very stylized, like those by Man Ray. In color, for softness.
No matter what happens, what a wonderful encounter!

“When it comes to treatment, the way ahead is well-signposted. To continue loving oneself after breast removal, there’s no guide. Close family, of course, the gaze of my husband... and a little bit of lipstick. Looking at yourself in the mirror after a shower and telling yourself that life was worth this price! I love myself, I love myself, I love myself! Even if that won’t grow again (all by itself), I love myself. Thanks, Elodie!” – Cécile

Grand Jury Prize 2016
How does a person love herself during and after an ordeal such as breast cancer? My wife, who had been a model, had always sat for me. Taking up this photographic activity again helped her rediscover her self-confidence and a femininity that she thought she’d forever lost. For me, this image represents a huge gift, it means even more to her, this return to a full life by starting to love herself again.
I adore her.

It was on March 10, 2016. At the end of winter, a little before my last treatment. A first photo, a first “being naked”: a face to face encounter with myself, objective through the camera’s lens. A self-portrait. Another portrait. I look at myself as at another, in the mirror of photography. I tame myself with gentleness, with this tenderness that comes with time. And I’d needed time to accept my disturbing, destabilizing, humiliating, and constantly mutating metamorphosis, simply in order to continue my life! Paradoxically, the physical transformation has reinforced my self-respect: you become your own priority and you measure your value. A pathway toward self-love, vital in order to conquer the disease, once the codes of beauty-femininity have been stripped bare. With this special nudity that reveals its true light. I share this image with you, unknown sister, whose fear was mine. Your face is mine, my face is yours.

Portrait of breasts
“Some wounds forge us. Others destroy us. It’s up to us to choose who we want to be. If we move ahead, if we love, or if we give in.
What shame is there in having experienced it? In having scars? In having the proof of a battle fought and won? The beauty of a body or of an experience doesn’t come from the other. It’s what we think of ourselves, of our force, and of our conviction of being beautiful. It is nothing other than the reflection of our feelings.
Be yourself. Prove to others that nothing can beat you.
Nathalie, forty-eight years old, who loves herself.” – Text by Aimée Ciancia, nineteen years old.

In this photograph, Sandrine and Denis, because a cancer is experienced by a couple, especially after a mastectomy. Her bruised femininity was rebuilt in her husband’s gaze. I wanted to capture this moment of peaceful complicity with Denis. The protective hand that hides the breast, while Sandrine proudly shows the tattoo that she wanted in order to restore her image: “Here I am transformed into an Amazon! Losing a piece of oneself is violent, this important part of my femininity. It was also a relief that they removed my breast; above all, they were removing a cancer!!! Reconstructing myself in my own way, with this tattoo that covers half my body, freed from the disease, not like an ersatz of a lost breast but the conqueror of a new territory.”

I love you as soon as I open my eyes.
I love you when I see you beside me but also when I don’t see you.
I love you in the morning, daytime, evening, night.
I love you when you when I am in your arms and even more when they grow impatient with wanting to snuggle up against me.
I love you and so goes our rhythm, we who love each other and life.
This is why it’s precious.
My photo: Loving Each Other is to mutually vibrate with the heart and to avoid that the disease comes and breaks up this rhythm too soon.

Once the cataclysm of our mother’s cancer announcement had passed and after having joined forces with her in moments of sadness, battles, and doubts, came the time of reconciliation and acceptance. What could be more obvious for us than to improvise this photo session? Two daughters and their mother in the middle of the living room! Her peaceful face and the vague smile lead us to think that everything is going better, that we could almost laugh about it. And what joy to see her wear with pride this small burlesque detail on the tip of her breasts. Full of light, she assumes all her rediscovered force to once again love herself.

“It is far easier to love yourself when your boyfriend also looks at you with love. Cancer at twenty-two, with breast removal. That could drive some people away. But he stayed with me and supported me through all the stages – even shaving his head – by continuing to find me as beautiful, if not more so, as on the first day we met. For this, I will never be able to thank him enough. Thanks to him, I still love myself and other people’s gazes aren’t an obstacle. That I’m loved is great, but loving oneself is even better!” – Odile

Agathe and Marilou are naked. Lying on the floor, bathed in white light in an evanescent, almost unreal space-time.
The outstretched arm which connects, embraces, and protects is the tender, powerful, and reserved gesture of love when faced with the disease. The women still have their hair. Still? Anew? Omnipresent, their hair touches, becomes entangled, a symbol of their union, fears, battles, pains, and their victories.

A therapeutic photo arising from artistic complicity. Julie and I met a year ago. I was struck by her joie de vivre and her courage. She has mercilessly waged a battle against her breast cancer. When her body plays up, Julie resists and learns to accept herself. There are as many ways of loving oneself as there are individuals. Loving oneself: an indispensible notion for remaining strong, which is essential in order to cope with the treatments, themselves necessary to healing.
Helmut Newton’s work is centered around love, women, and nude bodies. Eloquent. We decided to recreate one of his photos. A bare-chested woman puts her hand on her plastic double’s breast: the image of her diminished perfection, which is she is fond of like a reflection in a mirror while learning to love her new self. To remain beautiful and a woman with or without hair, with or without a wig, with or without breasts.

Accessit Prize 2016
Téva Public Prize 2016
I met Valérie within the context of an exhibition on femininity I was putting into place. What immediately struck me was her force. The force to fight against the disease and to forge ahead with her life as a woman, mother, and wife.
During the photo session, Fabien was present with his laughter and his gaze full of love for his wife. Their relationship is solid; he doesn’t wallow in the disease. I wanted to use the elements of this love, their humor which is a characteristic feature of them both, and also the place where they live. Valérie accepts herself the way she is, without artifice. Just her beauty. She thus threw off her wig, freeing herself of appearances alone. Understanding the symbolism, her husband participated in the scene, amused, always more deeply in love.

Capturing a special moment between a doctor daughter who cuddles her mother suffering from cancer. A private moment that I was lucky to share.
Love is a response while waiting for one from research.

“My relationship with my daughter inspired this image. After many physical and moral ordeals too heavy to bear, the desire to live had deserted me. My daughter taught me again how to apply makeup, dress myself, find myself beautiful, love myself. This image is a homage to her unconditional love.” —Natacha
The mother had guided her daughter to adulthood. Now it’s the young woman who picks up the baton and teaches her mother, who has recently had a double breast operation, to find herself beautiful and to love herself once again. She shows her that life is there, that joy is fundamental to the desire to live and draws on her mother’s lips this beauty that she’d admired so much as a child. I wanted tenderness and lightness in my photograph.
Soft focus to unite the two figures, and black and white, like a bubble that belongs only to them, at the center of the simple world of their everyday life. A fragment of life recounted by a burst of laughter between a mother and her daughter.

Karen is a thirty-year-old woman who fought cancer for two years. In remission since a year, she wanted to share what she’d been through. This photograph, taken in collaboration with the fashion designer Elie Kuame, evokes her battle when faced with the disease. The Madonna’s gown represents the peace made with herself. The holy book, rediscovered spirituality. Her scars mark pain as much as they do victory. The veiled doll symbolizes her children who she was able to protect. The syringe is for the treatments that robbed her of her hair and her nails. On her face, the makeup she wore for each chemo session in order to be a woman above everything else, to remain beautiful, and to prove to other women that: “Yes! All of you can do it!” Today she loves herself more than ever. She feels beautiful, she feels like herself, a new her in great shape!

When Catherine contacted me to speak to me of her desire to participate in a photo competition, I had to cope first with the shock of the news of her cancer. I did my best to respond to her expectations: “Loving Oneself” despite one’s cancer.
Her project became mine and I found beauty in her suffering, joy in the ordeal. Smiling, she explained to me that she loved to feel the wind blowing and water falling on her head. She wanted to use her body like a distinct photographic subject, by trying to detach it from the context and to include it in a whole, in this instance her house and her life open to the sea.

“This photo is a story of gazes.
First up, that of my children: the playful spirit, they love competitions. So what a joyful surprise, this bald head which became the object of a game and of creativity! Next, that of Jean-Claude, the photographer friend.
One day with friends at the seaside, without a turban, the pleasure of feeling the wind, the water’s freshness, the sand’s heat... He photographed me with the others, as though this naked head of mine was neither ugly nor taboo, and found its place in carefree vacation photos. I then spoke to him about our project. He once again started clicking photos...
Last but not least, that of Jérôme, my husband. He looked at the photos, chose this one and said to me: ‘In fact, your naked head makes you crazy attractive!.’ But the gaze that changed the most during this adventure was mine: despite the damage of the disease, I feel beautiful, fully woman, turned toward the future and its possibilities.” – Célia