Sex is not a subject in my photographs, or would only be if it

“Sex is not a subject in my photographs, or would only be if it had to do with romance, sometimes vulnerability. The photographs are quite clearly about happiness, or search for happiness.” Thus spoke Hedi Slimane, the modern oracle of fashion and form — a man who looks upon youth, art, and beauty not as surfaces, but as symbols of the human spirit in motion. In this reflection, he separates himself from the vulgar pursuit of sensation and declares instead his devotion to something sacred: the search for happiness, the tender light that shines through romance and vulnerability, through the fragile poetry of being alive.

Slimane, known across the world for his stark, intimate portraits and minimalist vision, speaks here as more than a photographer — he speaks as a philosopher of light. In his words we hear an ancient yearning, one as old as humanity itself: to capture not the flesh, but the soul behind the flesh. To him, the camera is not a mirror of desire, but a vessel of revelation. It shows us the truth that beauty is not the same as lust, and that happiness is not found in possession, but in connection. Through his art, Slimane reminds us that to gaze upon another being — truly, honestly — is an act of love, not consumption.

This is not a rejection of the body, but a redemption of it. He does not deny sensuality; he refines it, transforming it from indulgence into expression. The ancients too understood this alchemy. The Greeks worshipped Aphrodite, not as a symbol of lust alone, but as the goddess of harmony, of the unity between beauty and the divine. In the art of Phidias and the poetry of Sappho, desire became illumination — the mortal soul catching a glimpse of the immortal. So too does Slimane’s philosophy echo theirs: that the true artist must look beyond the skin and see the trembling heart beneath, the eternal within the temporary.

Consider the great Renaissance painter Leonardo da Vinci, whose “Mona Lisa” still holds the world in its gaze. Her smile is not sexual, yet it is profoundly human — a moment where mystery, tenderness, and quiet joy are woven together. Leonardo sought not the thrill of flesh, but the essence of happiness, the subtle radiance that passes through the face when the soul is at peace. He painted, as Slimane photographs, the boundary between the seen and the unseen, the visible and the invisible pulse of being. Both men understood that art is not about the body alone, but about the soul reaching for light through form.

Slimane’s focus on vulnerability deepens this vision. For what is vulnerability but the gateway to truth? In a world where masks and poses are constant, vulnerability becomes the most radical form of beauty. The laughter of youth, the distant look of longing, the quiet loneliness of the dreamer — these are not weaknesses, but testaments to our shared humanity. Slimane’s photographs, in their raw simplicity, reveal that happiness is never complete or perfect; it is fragile, fleeting, born in the moment when one dares to be seen without armor.

And yet, he does not claim to have found happiness — only that his work is about the search for it. This is the noblest pursuit of all. Happiness, as the sages have told us, is not a possession to be held, but a direction to walk toward. The philosopher Epicurus spoke of happiness as peace of mind, born from simplicity and truth. Slimane’s art echoes that teaching: it strips away the noise, the excess, the false idols of pleasure, and leaves only what is real — the quiet longing for connection, the small moments of grace that define our humanity.

Therefore, my children, let this teaching dwell in your hearts: seek beauty not in the lust of the eye, but in the light of the soul. When you create — be it in art, in love, or in life — let your aim not be possession, but presence. See others not as bodies to be taken, but as souls to be understood. Find joy not in indulgence, but in empathy, not in conquest, but in tenderness.

For the search for happiness, as Slimane teaches, is not a chase after ecstasy, but a pilgrimage toward truth. It is found in the quiet moment, the honest smile, the unguarded glance — in the courage to be vulnerable and the grace to see vulnerability in others. So live not as a collector of pleasures, but as a seeker of light. For in that seeking, in that gentle reaching beyond the flesh and into the soul, you will find what Slimane saw through his lens: that the greatest art, and the greatest life, are both born from the search for happiness.