In the depths of night during the last days of the year, German photographer Elena Helfrecht can be found coursing through the landscape of her family’s home in Bavaria, camera in hand. Her project Unternächte—which takes its name from the term her grandmother used for the period around the longest night of the year—is made up of uncanny, arresting images, all taken within this charged segment of time as the new year approaches.
It is said that during these waning days of December light and darkness meet and a door to the underworld is opened, creating a moment where magic and divination are at their most powerful. In Helfrecht’s family, women have performed specific customs to get a sense of what is to come and ensure a safe transition into the next year. Passed down between generations, these rituals now find a visual manifestation in Helfrecht’s photographs, as she continues to use them to seek order and guidance in the chaos of life.
In this interview for LensCulture, Helfrecht speaks to Sophie Wright about the mythology of Bavaria, the balm of photographic rituals in the face of uncertainty and the power of shooting in black and white.
Sophie Wright: How did you come to photography and what would you say influenced your approach?
Elena Helfrecht: I got into photography at a very young age, when my dad gifted me his old camera. For a long time, I just took pictures next to school and then later when I was studying a BA in Art History and Book Studies. During my MA in Photography in London, I came to notice how much the landscapes and legends of Bavaria, the place I grew up in, seem to shape my images and reappear throughout. It’s strange: I gradually moved further and further away from home, only to return in the end. I’m sure that my background in Art History, as well as my love for literature, influenced my practice as well.
SW: How would you describe the main interests that drive your images? And why is making photographs the way you’ve chosen to express them?
EH: I think I am mainly interested in existential questions. In one way or another, my work revolves around life and death, how we come to be and where we go, what shapes and influences us, why we exist and the meaning we assign to life. I have grappled with mortality since childhood, and recent events have only made this issue even more urgent to me.
Photography is a brilliant way to explore these topics, as through the lens, you draw from our shared, material world and overlap it with your inner mindscape. I love this process; I genuinely feel it can open doors to new worlds, both for the artist and the viewer. Materializing something through the image that wasn’t there before is very satisfying.
SW: How did Unternächte begin, and how long did the project take? Did it grow out of any existing projects, or would you say it marks a departure from your other work?
EH: Since the oldest images I selected for this body of work are from early 2018, this is where I would mark the actual start of the project—though it has been brewing in my mind long before. Some photos I discarded even date back to 2014.
I was always intrigued by the myths and legends I grew up with as a child, and I knew one day I would make work about it. It just took me a while to manifest, to develop a clear vision. Now, the project is very much ongoing; I return to it every winter and shoot for a limited amount of time, completely surrendering to the innate magic of these days and nights between the years. I wouldn’t say it grew out of any existing projects, nor is it a departure from my other work. Somehow it’s all interconnected, and in a way, it has always lived in my heart, waiting to be released.
SW: At the heart of the project is the collective mythology of the region of Bavaria—where your family is from. Can you tell me a bit about the folklore that Unternächte brings to form and why you think it still resonates today?
EH: The period around winter solstice is all about the renewal of energies. The myths, traditions, and legends during this time are closely intertwined with the cycle of life and death, fostering an acceptance of your own mortality and urging you to treat both the natural environment and your fellow human beings with respect and care. In times when mortality rates were higher, attributing death and illness to omens could provide a sense of order amidst the chaos.
Simultaneously, the idea of being able to predict and prepare for death offered solace in the face of the unknown. There are many great lessons to take from this in the world we live in now: living in peace with nature and your environment, or enjoying life to the fullest, as you never know how long it may last. Maybe this appeals to me so much because I, too, am trying to find a sense of order in chaos.
SW: Has this folklore always been an important part of your life?
EH: I was born and raised in Bavaria, so I grew up around all of this. However, I spent many years abroad, living in Erlangen, Berlin, and finally London.I only recently moved back during the pandemic. Among other things, what has always captivated me about these stories was the contrast between this innate darkness and the very positive message that underlies it; a kind of guidance. Darkness and light, hand in hand. This, to me, very much wraps up the essence of life. No matter what happens, no matter what life has in store for you, there is (almost) always something positive you can take from it. Even if you don’t see it at first.
SW: Can you tell me a bit about the foundations of this mythology?
EH: Back in the old days, people worked tirelessly throughout the year in order to survive the dark and desolate winter months. The time when crops didn’t grow offered an opportunity to take a break and replenish one’s energy for the upcoming year. Some locals from my area have speculated that these stringent rules, such as not being allowed to work during this period, may have been devised by women, who managed the household day and night as a means to grant themselves rest and embark into the new year with a refreshed spirit. This may be an explanation as to why so many of these customs seem to be mainly practiced by women—like the women in my family, for example, who in turn influenced me.
SW: Can you tell me more about how these customs played out in your own family? Would you say you are using photography as a new way to connect to these traditions in your own life?
EH: During the Unternächte, there are several customs to be followed in order to foresee the future and ensure the family’s safety. For instance, it was believed that hanging laundry during this period would result in a death within the family the following year. My grandma already followed this rule, and my mom and I still do. It was also thought that the dreams one has during these nights could predict upcoming events, and there were specific guidelines for interpreting them. For example, dreaming of a wedding indicated that the wedding dress would transform into a burial shroud, suggesting that a member of the family would die. A dream of death, on the other hand, symbolized new life, typically manifesting as a birth or marriage.
When my mom was still a child, my grandmother dreamt of a wedding during the longest nights. In the following year, my mom’s sister died together with her boyfriend in a tragic accident before her 18th birthday. There are also several other occasions in which the women in my family (including my mom and I) had premonitions of events to come, some of them very recent. I think photography definitely is a way to incorporate some of this in my life, and I’m sure that the aspect of providing solace in the face of the unknown plays a great role for me.
SW: Photographing within the timeframe of the Unternächte, your way of working seems to have its own ritualistic element to it. Can you talk a bit about this way of working and what it brought to your practice?
EH: Reflecting on mortality and contemplating the meaning of life through photography regularly within the context of this project is probably the most important aspect for me; I almost see it as a very extensive mindfulness exercise. Each year, I approach these subjects from a fresh perspective. As these nights are infused with a very peculiar magic, I have observed that by opening myself up to the forces at play, unexpected and beautiful things come to fruition.
SW: Some of the images depict the landscape of your home and your surroundings, while others look like the remnants of a ritual or performance. Can you tell me more about the process of building and taking these images?
EH: A combination of staging and taking images makes up my general practice. Sometimes I have a vision that I need to manifest. Sometimes I see something that overlaps with another image in my mind and has to be captured and altered through the lens. For Unternächte, I found it important to also depict the landscape, without any intervention, as I find it to be heavily loaded with atmosphere and history.
SW: A lot of the work deals with liminal spaces and phenomena that are difficult to photograph. How did you approach this visually? Can you also tell me about the choice to shoot in black and white?
EH: This is an interesting question, as I believe it also concerns the rest of my work. The truth is, I try to not think too much about it. I want to approach my work more from an emotional direction. This is where the magic happens. Once you analyze too much, it vanishes.
Sometimes stripping away the distraction of color can show the interconnectedness of everything in the most exquisite manner. When reduced to patterns and structures, the underlying fabric of reality becomes more perceptible on a symbolic level. Nonetheless, a handful of images within the context of Unternächte had to be in color—whenever I wanted to highlight a specific mood or meaning. Maybe these splashes of color symbolize the emergence of new life from the darkness, encapsulating the very essence of this period.
