Vivere in modo autentico attraverso l’arte: il percorso creativo di Ava Margueritte

A person wearing a cowboy hat, denim shirt, and jeans stands on a path, smoking a cigarette and holding binoculars. The background includes trees and a cloudy sky.

A Leap Toward Authenticity

Photographer and multidisciplinary artist Ava Margueritte has shifted course, redefining her career and transforming her practice and life.

Leaving behind a full time job to dedicate her focus to photography, a year and a half in she’s developed a rhythm in her practice, full of intention and care. Translating lived experience into a visual language, her work is quiet and contemplative as it explores the intersections of identity, disability and renewal. In giving herself the freedom to create, Margueritte has also given herself permission to live authentically—as an artist and as herself.

Formally trained at the Ontario College of Art & Design University and later at SPAO: School of Photographic Arts Ottawa, Ottawa-based artist Margueritte demonstrates a balance of technical skill and conceptual inquiry in her work. As a longtime Format member, she spoke with us about how she’s learning to live a creative life on her own terms.

A hand with red nail polish holds a square black and white photograph of a seascape with a cloudy sky, and the words "LEARN TO FLOAT" are printed below the image. The background is a plain white surface.

Translating Experience: Personal Narrative in Photography

Your work is deeply personal—a blend of self-reflection and observation. What draws you to turn that gaze inward?

I think I’ve always been curious about how the internal becomes visible—how something felt can live in a photograph. My work started from that need to translate things I didn’t have words for: memories, anxieties, small moments of clarity. The camera became a way to communicate what my mind couldn’t always express directly.

Over time, that process of looking inward started to feel like a kind of homecoming. Each project teaches me something about how to live in my own rhythm—to accept the parts of myself that used to feel too quiet or too much.

A black and white photograph shows a woman with dark, shoulder-length hair and bangs sitting on a couch, looking to the left. The image has a grainy texture and is a print from Super 8 film, with visible film borders and a bright, rectangular light leak on the left side.
Portrait of Ava Margueritte by Yuli Sato.

Neurodivergence & Creativity

How do you see your neurodivergence influencing the way you think and work as a creative?

I have a few learning disabilities—dyslexia, ADHD, CAP-D (Central Auditory Processing Disorder)—and a lot of those are more fluid than a 9 to 5. I was struggling being confined to structures that didn’t work with my inner being.

I’m more of a burst worker; I’ll work really hard for a few weeks and then work a little less for, say, the other two. Trying to keep up with a rhythm that was out of sync with my own rhythm was very draining. Being able to work more freely has actually allowed me to feel more creative and take care of myself in a way I didn’t always feel like I could.

From what I’ve observed, I think a lot of people who are on the spectrum and who struggle to fit into that world feel a lot of internal shame…There are things I’m really good at, but there’s a lot of shame that comes with it and it starts really young—from having an IEP (Individualized Education Program), or not having access to resources.

A lot of my late twenties was finding a way to be okay with this part of myself that is uncomfortable and still not really recognized. There’s still stigma around it. But I was making work about it anyway. You can’t hide from it in a corporate setting, and I was trying to unlearn that feeling of shame.

Ava Margueritte Bitten tongue
A dramatic sky features dark, ominous clouds contrasted by patches of vibrant orange and yellow light. The overall effect creates a sense of both foreboding and beauty.

Risks, Rewards, and Letting Go of the Corporate World

What led you to make the leap to pursuing your photo practice full-time?

Moving full-time as an artist, and fully dedicating myself to my practice, wasn’t an easy decision—but it felt very necessary. There were a lot of recurring themes in my life. I found a lot of the skills I was using for my job, I was also using for my own practice, so I was able to translate a lot of them. But I also learned a ton in every role and every job that I was in.

I had been slowly building my own practice over about ten years, but I found that I didn’t have the same energy and dedication to pour into my work. So I made the difficult decision to leave my job and put all of myself, and all my work, into what I was doing.

I’ve been building relationships in Ottawa for close to seven years now, so I was able to make that transition a bit more easily since a lot of what I was doing, I was already doing alongside my work anyway. It became more about applying what I was already doing to my practice full time.

Ava Margueritte online photography portfolio

Finding Stable Ground and Overcoming Self-Doubt as a Professional Photographer

What helped you stay grounded while you were building momentum in your practice?

Transitioning from a job to doing this full-time on my own was scary, but I think the hardest thing was actually taking a break. I’d been working so long in such a way that slowing down and listening to myself—knowing when I needed a break and not pushing through—was hard. There was that constant feeling of failure: I’m not doing enough, I should be doing more.

My mom is a businesswoman, my partner works in that world, and I started reframing my thinking to see it as a business. Give yourself two years before it’s a failure. You’re putting all your eggs in this basket for two years. Right now I’m just under a year and a half in, and this is my first month where I’ve had five photoshoots lined up. I just got my first major grant. I’m having two back-to-back solo exhibitions. I did my first artist residency. Things started to take off a year after I committed to my practice, which is really a year of giving my full attention to it.

It took that long, and it took applying to 30 applications. I wanted everything to happen immediately because I’d been doing my work for so long, but there’s so much that goes on behind it. Reframing it—like, if you start a business, you expect to go two years without a salary—really helped. You lay that groundwork so when it does come, you’re ready. For me, it’s happening, and it feels surreal.

The image is split into two panels: the left panel shows a close-up of a person with long, dark hair, a lip piercing, and a black jacket, looking off to the side; the right panel shows a bare tree against a gray, overcast sky. The overall tone of the image is muted and somber.

Exploring Identity and Impermanence Through the Lens

How do your personal experiences influence the subjects you explore in your photography?

Themes I’m currently exploring in my practice are my own comfort and discomfort with what’s familiar and what is foreign. I often look at time, impermanence, and identity, and blend those together. I’ve just completed—or I’m extending—a project called Landfall that looks at binaries within society.

From my own experience being neurodiverse and having mental health challenges, I’ve contained and looked at those and applied them to this body of work. I’m looking at the fluidity of nature contrasted by the rigidity of society to express my own navigating of my human experience as a neurodiverse individual. It’s like I’m looking at this world that I don’t really understand and don’t really feel like I fit in all the time.

I identify with nature and feel like I’m up against something that feels hard. So I use people and the natural environment to represent these themes. The images are  structured, fluid and beautiful, with a tinge of a haunting/moody quality.Someone recently described my work as having a sense of “impending doom,” and at least that’s something. I like the idea that you’re on the edge of something—that someone can look at my work and say, “Yeah, it’s beautiful, but are you okay?”. It’s a form of recognition and quiet connection and a feeling of being seen.

The image is a two-page spread from a book, with a square photo on each page; the left photo shows a woman with blonde hair looking out over a lake, and the right photo shows a close-up of matted, dirty feathers. The photos are presented in a soft, slightly faded style.
An art gallery wall displays the exhibition "Landfall" by Ava Marguerite, featuring a poster with exhibition details and two framed photographs: one a portrait of a woman and the other a landscape. The wall is concrete with black trim at the base, and the floor is carpeted.

Building Connection Through the Camera

What role did your relationships play in shaping your series, Landfall, and how did it feel to turn the camera toward people you know so intimately?

When I was working 9 to 5, I was really struggling. A lot of my relationships had fallen to the wayside. Landfall was really about reconnecting with my community. I spent a lot of time rebuilding relationships and connecting with people.

Photographing someone is really special and quite intimate. There’s this relationship between the subject and me—we occupy the space together where we get to just exist in something that kind of matters but kind of doesn’t. It’s a moment of intimacy where I get to gaze upon my subject; I feel like my subject gets to be seen in a way you’re often not seen. I get to understand you.

There’s a moment when I look through my viewfinder where you feel it and you just know you have the shot. This project was really about connecting with people I hadn’t had the energy for. I’d been so wrapped up in the daily needs of my job that I had nothing left to pour into other relationships, and this was a beautiful way to reconnect…It felt like an apology: “I’m sorry I haven’t been here for years.” It’s trying again, documenting, being present and quiet, and getting to know someone over a couple of hours.

An arm and hand reach down towards a green patterned surface, partially illuminated by sunlight and casting a shadow. The arm, clad in a light-colored sweater, has freckles and age spots.

Lessons in Making Art on Your Own Terms

What lessons have you learned through this journey of building a practice that fits your needs?

I always knew it was in here, like I just had a feeling. And I think it’s about listening to that—especially when you don’t fit in. For so long I wanted that normal life, the 9-to-5, the stability. I wanted to fit in and be like everyone else. But there was always this little voice saying, “Come on, photo is what you’re meant to be doing.”

It’s hard, and it’s a lot of work, and it never really stops. But I’ve learned that breaks are okay. My mom gave me this advice when I started doing this full-time: she said, “Any time you go and take photos, that counts as working.” Because for so long I had been doing it outside of my job, and it didn’t register as work—even though that’s what I loved most.

Doing what you love is still work. It just looks different. It doesn’t fit neatly into a schedule. And that’s okay.

An art gallery features a collection of square photographs displayed on white walls, illuminated by track lighting, with the title "Ava Marguerite One Mile" printed on the left wall. The photographs depict a variety of subjects, including a jar, a torso, a landscape, and a self-portrait, creating a diverse visual narrative within the gallery space.
The image shows an open book with a photograph of a person sitting on a bed in a dimly lit room, holding a rectangular object in front of their face, obscuring it. The room features patterned wallpaper, a bed with a colorful striped blanket, and a door with sunlight streaming through.

Growing With Format: A Decade of Creative Evolution

You’ve been part of the Format community for more than a decade, growing creatively throughout that time. How do you see your practice today compared to when you first started?

When I think back, it’s wild to realize how long I’ve been building with Format—over ten years. My portfolio website has grown with me through every stage of my practice. When I started, I was juggling part-time jobs and building my art on the side. I didn’t know yet what it would look like to commit fully. But each project, each update to my site, became a record of growth—not just artistically, but personally.

Looking back, I see that consistency as a kind of quiet backbone. It reminds me that becoming an artist wasn’t one big decision—it was hundreds of small choices over time, all leading here.

A light purple book cover with the title "Nothing we hadn't seen before but we kept quiet" and the author's name "Ava Margueritte" in white text. The book is placed on a dark brown surface.

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Collaboratore

  • Sarah Jasmine Hodgson is an artist and cultural worker based in Toronto. Her multidisciplinary practice often returns to photography as a way of seeing and learning about the world around her. Informed by her experience in the non-profit sector along with her creative practice, she’s driven by a desire to create spaces that foster connection, creativity and support among artists.  

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