In the heart of bernese alps, between Kandersteg and Frutigen, rises the Balmhorn. Culminating at 3697 metres above sea level, it stands on the border between the Valais and Berne cantons. Wrapped in eternal snow, its crevasse-sculpted north face bears witness to bygone eras. In the hollow of its glacier, deep silence reigns. Only the echo of falling seracs disturbs this absolute calm.

I took this photograph at daybreak, when the first glimmers of sunlight caressed the mountain. The ice kingdom is revealed. Elongated shadows are cast on the glacier, adding depth to the scene. A dark, mysterious sky bathes the mountain in reflected light. For fifteen years, the Balmhorn has haunted my thoughts. I admire it as much as it impresses me. Its verticality obsesses me. But up there, conditions change rapidly and opportunities to capture the essence of the mountain are rare. Today, luck is on my side. I wait for the clouds to evolve to capture a perfect balance between sky and earth. Then, in an almost solemn silence, I freeze the summit.

I love the harmony that reigns in this work. The interplay of lines and light. The symbiosis between the elements. Could this painting be enhanced by the presence of a skier? Not really, no. The conditions in the high mountains are far too dangerous for a mountaineer to dare venture onto the face of this summit. But as a humble photographer and servant of the world above, I'm here to reveal the essence of its unflappable soul.