Isabelle, a photographer & interior stylist from Antwerp

Isabelle, a photographer & interior stylist from Antwerp

An afternoon at home with Isabelle and Millie, where light, family, and slow living meet.

When we knocked on Isabelle’s door, the scent of coffee and sea air drifted through the apartment. The windows were open, linen curtains moving gently in the Lisbon breeze. Isabelle, a photographer and interior stylist based in Antwerp, was spending a few days at The Lisboans with her family, on their way south to begin a new life on Portugal’s wild Costa Vicentina.

We sat together in the soft afternoon light, talking about home, beauty, motherhood, and the quiet pace of life that this country seems to invite. After a while, Millie joined us, curious and bright, and the conversation became a gentle exchange between mother and daughter, woven with laughter and pauses, like sunlight moving through the room.

 


 

The Lisboans: When do you feel most at peace with yourself?

Isabelle: When my children are happy and content. That’s really when everything feels right. I feel most at peace when we’re all together, doing something simple at home, cooking, working in the garden on a Sunday. Those ordinary moments, when everyone is well and connected, that’s what matters most to me.

The Lisboans: And if your inner world were a room, how would it look?

Isabelle: Calm and minimal, filled with natural textures and soft light. Everything would have meaning, nothing unnecessary, just pieces that carry a story. I grew up surrounded by authenticity, as the daughter of an antiquarian, so I’ve always felt connected to objects that have lived before, that hold a quiet kind of soul.

The Lisboans: Do you think beauty needs imperfection to be real?

Isabelle: I do. I think real beauty always carries a trace of imperfection. In my work and in life, I’m drawn to what time, touch, or light has already shaped, the small irregularities, the softness, the quiet details that don’t try too hard. Like in photography, it’s never about capturing something flawless, it’s about sensing the soul of a moment. There’s honesty in things that aren’t perfect. They remind us that everything is alive, changing, and human.

The Lisboans: And what have your children taught you about love?

Isabelle: That it’s so much bigger than anything I ever understood before. It’s honesty, patience, and learning to let go, but also something beyond words or reason. The love you feel for your children is infinite, it shifts everything you thought you knew about what matters. Especially with everything happening in the world, it reminds me every day how precious it is to love and protect, to keep softness and hope alive.

The Lisboans: What gesture makes you feel most seen by Maxime?

Isabelle: When he brings me coffee before I even ask. It’s such a small thing, but it says everything. He always notices the tiniest details. I think that’s what I love most, he never really stops seeing me. Finding our rhythm here in Portugal hasn’t always been easy, but we keep showing up for each other, lifting one another through the harder days. That’s what being seen is about, the everyday gestures that hold everything together.

The Lisboans: When does time feel slowest for you?

Isabelle: When I’m behind my camera. That moment when I stop thinking and just observe. Photography slows everything down for me, it makes me see what I’d normally rush past. Time also feels slower when we travel as a family, when the days have no structure and everything feels new again. Those are the moments when nothing is rushed.

The Lisboans: Is there something you’re still learning to let go of?

Isabelle: The need to rush. When we first moved here, I realised how much busyness was still living in my body. Even surrounded by quiet, I felt this pull to keep moving, to get things done. It took months to find a slower rhythm, to learn that things can unfold without force, and that slow can actually be enough.

The Lisboans: What does freedom mean in your daily life?

Isabelle: For me, freedom is space, the space to choose how we live, where we go, what we create. It’s mornings without alarms, slow coffee, the sound of the wind instead of traffic. Work that feels like life, and life that feels like ours. Moving here taught me that freedom isn’t about having more options, but about having fewer, and knowing they’re the right ones. It’s not found in owning more, but in needing less. It’s the quiet kind of freedom, the one that comes from simplicity, presence, and being true to what feels right.

The Lisboans: Do you photograph the world as it is, or as you wish it to be?

Isabelle: Probably somewhere in between. I photograph the world as I feel it, quiet, honest, sometimes imperfect. My work isn’t about creating an ideal or a fantasy, but about translating emotion into something visible. Light, texture, and stillness often tell the story better than words. So even though what I capture exists in front of me, it always passes through how I experience it, the mood of that moment, what it evokes, or what it leaves behind. It’s less about documenting reality and more about sensing it.

The Lisboans: And how much of that comes from intuition?

Isabelle: Almost everything. I’m completely self-taught, so I’ve never approached photography in a technical way. For me, it’s always been about instinct, a feeling that guides where I stand, when I press the shutter, or when to stop. I don’t think about perfect light or composition, I follow what feels true in that moment. Everything I create comes from that quiet sense of knowing, the space between what I see and what I feel.

(The light shifts. Millie joins, curious.)

The Lisboans: Millie, if you could design your own world, what would it look like?

Millie: Peaceful. Lots of animals, people kind to each other. Nature everywhere, but still with good Wi-Fi.

The Lisboans: That sounds perfect. And if you could teach adults one thing?

Millie: To listen more. Or to not take things so seriously.

The Lisboans: And what’s your happiest sound?

Millie: Animals. Laughter. And music.

(The light turns golden. The city hums softly outside.)