Twilight
Sam Youkilis' video and photos can be found on Instagram under @samyoukilis. His first museum exhibition runs until May 7, 2025 at C/O Berlin
Photo: Noah Emrich
Sam Youkilis: July 12, 2023, 2:14 PM
In Sam Youkilis’ universe, everything seems fine— at first glance at least. In his Instagram videos and photos, Tokyo’s skyline is reflected surreally in a lake at twilight; humpback whales leap like ballet dancers from the ocean off Hawaii; young people in Naples kiss by the sea. Flocks of sparrows soar above Rome, forming ever-changing amorphous clouds, people work to produce traditional handicrafts. But something feels off with these beautiful images that are followed by over 700,000 people on Instagram. You get a creeping sense of unease. The world that the photographer so perfectly composes in his travel images, as if it were classical painting, is already vanishing: the elderly's wisdom is no longer passed down; the seemingly intact nature faces the onset of the climate crisis; there is a deceptive sense of peace. Why does it all feel so haunting? On the occasion of his museum exhibition at C/O Berlin, we spoke with Sam Youkilis about his ongoing archival project.
When one looks at your work, there's no sense of nostalgia. This is surpring. You capture many traditions—people working on crafts, there's an urban slowness, a sense of being in the moment—yet nothing feels outdated or regressive. Why do you think that is? Is it because of the medium, Instagram, with its inherent “nowness”?
I’m not afraid of nostalgia, but I want my work to emerge from an interpersonal interaction between myself and someone else. That connection brings a sense of intimacy, immersion, and immediacy that feels close to real life. Instead of evoking jealousy or envy, my work fosters a sense of presence. It offers a way to travel without actually being there. That’s really important to me.
Sam Youkilis: October 18, 2018, 11:45 AM
Was the urge to travel the initial impulse for your work?
I would say so. When I was young, I studied photography at Bard College. One of my teachers was the great Stephen Shore, who was always traveling across the country. That deeply inspired me. So I taught myself to drive—which is quite uncommon for a kid from New York. I would go as far as possible from where I was studying, searching for things that felt new or surprising. Trying to make sense of the unfamiliar, of what I didn’t understand or had never seen before, became the foundation of my work today.
“I believe video is a more accurate way to represent the world than photography, which can be far more manipulative”
Sam Youkilis: June 30, 2023, 2:17 PM
Do you think a lot about representation and how to avoid distortion or cliché when portraying people and places?
Absolutely, 100%. That’s one reason I like video as a medium — I think it’s closer to the truth. Of course, I’m abstracting and interpreting; it’s not reality exactly as it is, but my version of it, my description. Still, I believe video is a more accurate way to represent the world than photography, which can be far more manipulative.
In an iMessage conversation with your mum that you posted on Instagram, she said your work from Florence reminded her of 15th-century paintings. Yet, at the same time, it felt very contemporary. Do you think video enhances this sense of “nowness,” making the unmodern feel contemporary?
It’s definitely about how I see the world—its colours, its people. I’m very inspired by 20th-century Italian cinema and by people who, every afternoon, go to look at the ocean. That's something I do, too, whenever I can. I’m drawn to things on the verge of disappearing, whether it’s gestures, ways of being, ways of acting, or a sensibility toward the world that belongs to a generation soon to be gone. Their knowledge won’t necessarily be passed down. I document Hmong women making hemp fabric by hand, the ancient tradition of drying tomato paste in the sun in central Sicily—practices that, without preservation, are on the brink of vanishing. I want my photos and videos to serve as both a record and an archive of these traditions.
“It’s almost ironic—to document a disappearing culture or tradition on an iPhone 16 Pro”
It’s interesting that this approach works so well on social media, which many argue distracts from and distorts reality.
It’s almost ironic—to document a disappearing culture or tradition on an iPhone 16 Pro and share it with a massive social media audience in an attempt to preserve it. Of course, there’s an inherent contradiction there - but at the same time, it’s effective.
There seems to be a general sense that an old world is fading, and we don’t really know what the new one will look like. That creates a feeling of loss. Have you encountered that during your travels?
Of course. But that’s globalisation. In Italy, for example, many young people are moving to Milan to find work. It’s not practical to keep making tomato paste in central Sicily — it’s a romantic idea, but I don’t want to romanticize anything. The world I’m documenting shouldn’t disappear, and I do think it’s crucial to archive these practices. But maybe there can’t be a future unless we find new ways to tell these stories, to create value around old traditions, to make it possible for people to earn a living by continuing them. I don’t know—that’s a really difficult question. I’m not entirely sure what my role or the impact of my work is in that sense.
Sam Youkilis: August 10, 2022, 10:24 AM
In much of the Western world, there’s a sense that we’re moving in circles—clinging to the past while struggling to embrace the future. After traveling the globe and immersing yourself in different cultures and ways of living, have you encountered somewhere where something truly new is being created?
That’s a tough question. Let me try to answer it in broader terms. I think it’s important to find surprise in extraordinary things—like standing in the most breathtaking mountains on the border of Vietnam and China. Almost anyone would find that visually stunning. But, just as important to me, is finding that same sense of wonder in the completely ordinary—like a receipt blowing down the street. There are surprises everywhere. The key is learning how to look for them and noticing them where you wouldn’t expect to.