The "Orchestrated Accident": The Uncanny World of Kourtney Roy

When encountering Kourtney Roy’s photography for the first time, one is immediately drawn into a saturated world of kitsch— an overload of color and an uncanny universe that feels both familiar and strangely odd. In this world, the viewer follows herself-portrayed character: a fictional woman wandering through the stereotypical landscapes of Miami, Naples, and other selected cities. Though dreamy and often at odds with her surroundings, she remains unmistakably the protagonist. Who is this character, we wonder? Who is the woman Kourtney embodies so singularly?And more importantly, who is Kourtney Roy herself ?

It is, of course, hard to get to know someone in just an hour, but Kourtney kindly welcomed us into her home — perhaps the best way to get a glimpse of a person’s intimacy. HerMontreuil flat turns out to be more of a cabinet de curiosités, filled with artifacts: stuffed animals, religious icons, a portrait of a dog that may or may not have been hers, and an impressive collection of snow globes. Surrounded by her own whimsical objects, she creates a world that is playful, singular, and richly imaginative. What follows are snippets of our conversation.

I chose this place because I work from home, and this is whereI feel most at ease.

Twenty-one years!

Disguise and fiction are a way for me to create imagined worlds or hyperreal environments — what I like to call tableau photography. I began doing it at university, where I specialized in photography. I brought to life the worlds inside my head, and those I had glimpsed elsewhere. The camera's ability to change reality and create another vision, another realm, has always fascinated me.

When I first started photographing, I found it easier to use myself as the subject since there was no need to find models. At the time, there was much discussion about how, as a photographer — or in life more broadly — you shouldn’t simply go out and photograph people, groups, or cultural communities, as it might be seen as appropriation. So I asked myself: What do I want to photograph? I thought I could start with myself, with what is familiar. In the end, I stuck with it. That way, I was sure I wasn’t exploiting anyone. I must also admit that becoming a character in these strange and slightly surreal worlds I create is something I really enjoy. It’s pretty fun!

My work is probably 99% improvisation. All the locations and places you see in the images are randomly found. It depends on the project, but usually I drive around with my car, loaded with all the equipment: wigs, makeup, clothing, all that stuff. I call it “the orchestrated accident.” I meet people by chance who often suggest where I should go next. My work is very much about waiting and seeing where I’m guided. If I see a place I really like, I’ll stop the car, get out, set up the camera, and take a photo. It can be done really fast — sometimes in five or ten minutes, sometimes longer. It all depends on the moment. But it’s all pretty much improvised.

Yes, it happens each time I take a photo and I have the feeling that nothing happened. Eventually, the photos taken in this situation often turn out to be the best ones. There are good days and bad days, just like when you get home and none of the photos are the ones you wanted. But you must persist, to force it out of yourself in a way. And then later, when I start editing, maybe days or even weeks later, I’ll realize that one of those photos I took is actually pretty awesome.

Half the work is just about doing it, trying and testing.If you don’t try, you won’t get anything. So if you wait for ideal conditions all the time, you might only be able to work once a month. I think it’s the same with other practices, like writing. If you just sit there and wait for inspiration, for a “muse”, you’ll end up with nothing. Giving it a try will give you some material to work with and push you forward.

It’s a bit of both. I know who I am, and I arrive with ideas in mind, but it’s only when I’m there, ready to photograph, thatI let the city inspire me. Failed Postcards from Napoli is a good example. I bought clothes locally and arrived with no mood boards or storyboards. I lived in Naples for a month — eating, walking, working, and meeting people — and the character gradually evolved. It wasn’t pre-planned; I didn’t decide in advance what to do. I didn’t plan each shot in advance; each day I asked myself, “What do I feel like shooting today?” Accidental moments played an essential role.

Yes, it is another fundamental part in my work. Asa photographer, I obviously come with a certain idea —or perhaps a vision, not to sound too grandiose — of whatI want to do, of my visual aesthetics. But I also want the place itself to truly influence my images, what they will say. My work leaves space for creative accidents. Patience is key.

For practical, aesthetic, and artistic reasons. I have this idea of “in-between places”: abandoned or overlooked spaces that are mostly empty and easy to photograph. You walk past them every day — a garbage pile, a tiny Jesus statue, a small gas station — without really noticing. People don’t engage with them like museums or monuments; they’re just passageways. It’s also difficult to set up a scene when lots of people are around. Performing with a wig in front of crowds feels odd. Photography is about making choices: where you place the camera, the frame, how you wait for the right moment, and then the editing part. The nature of photography make sit seem quieter than it actually is, I think.

For The Tourist, I really wanted to collaborate with locals.They were mostly actors I hired or bodybuilders I deliberately sought out. I had to pay them and have them sign a contract, which made the process far less accidental. I had to organize the shoot at specific locations and times, because I couldn’t just wander around with four bodybuilders in my car. I mean,I could (laughs), but it would have been more complicated.When I work alone, that’s one thing, but with a team of five, a hair and makeup team, and the process of oiling up the bodybuilders, I needed to be much more organized. I had to do location scouting and casting which can take a couple of days. I couldn’t just hope for the best. Typically, I dive right in: I stop at a place that inspires me, check it out, take notes, confirm permission to shoot, and then perhaps a few days later, I return. Naples was different. I explored the city withCristina Ferraiuolo, who is a proper lady from Naples and director of Spot Home Gallery, where I did my artist residency.She took me around in her red little car, showing me all the hidden corners of the city.

Vulnerability is an interesting notion to me. When you’re wearing a wig, eyelashes, and high heels for a photo, you can feel a bit silly or awkward — there’s naturally some vulnerability there. But how it reads depends on who is watching. Your theme, Safety and Desire, frames the image in a particular way. I don’t focus on my own reading; I pay attention to how others respond. You might see her one way, but others may see her as empowered, taking up space.

Vacant would be the word. I really like working with this sense of vacancy. You’re right, she is looking at her interior self, and there’s a gap between the external reality and her interiority. I really like to explore this gap: the contrast between psychological depth and the external appearance of things.

I enjoy weirdness and ambiguity. The uncanny. Things can be familiar and strange. I also like dark humor; I don’t take myself too seriously, and a touch of humor always helps.

I love kitsch because it reflects people’s mass-produced desire for beauty. There are many definitions of kitsch —and I don’t remember the dictionary one —but for me, it’s a kind of beauty for people without formal art training who still crave something visually pleasing. Naples is the perfect city for that, and I say it in a very positive way. It’s kitsch in a distinctly Italian sense: colorful, crumbling, sometimes a bit puffy. Italy has so many layers of kitsch; it’s like a Russian doll of kitschiness.

In terms of culture's highbrow/lowbrow dichotomy, kitsch is considered lowbrow, and it fascinates me.

I usually wear the clothes after I photograph them. I keep most of what I buy, like in Rimini. I love clothes, but I don’t pay much attention to fashion. I’m more into color and secondhand finds; probably 99% of what I own comes from thrift shops.I grew up that way, because I didn’t have much money. We were thrift shop queens. Now it’s trendy and cool, but back then, it was just out of necessity.

Yes, but that one’s a bit crappy (laughs). Italians have better ones. They actually do everything better! I didn’t photograph too many icons, though, because the city is already a cliché in itself. I captured a few Neapolitan clichés, like altars and icons of San Gennaro or the Virgin Mary, but only two or three photos. It would be too easy to just focus on that. I had to go deeper, to see beyond the surface of Naples, to notice the garbage underneath. That’s what I want to photograph.

I really do like tourist traps, that’s for sure!