Morgane has always been drawn to that in nature which inspires.
Her work conveys a sense of delicacy, both in the attention with which the moment has been captured and our own human delicacy when compared to the monumental spectacles so often portrayed in her work.
Her series Volatile Permanence, shot in the Sahara desert, explores the ideas of collectivism, the inevitability of change and the unceasing marching of time.
Sand left to itself does little; it is inert, unmoving and dull. Yet introduce even the most benign of breezes, and a metamorphosis shall unfold.
Be careful, though - for not unlike life - blink, and you will miss it.
The air shifts, and what had once been a placid mound of arid powder rears into a tempest. Each gust gathering more grains, every flurry throwing extra particles into the yawning sky.
A beast has been awoken, it has shaken loose the shackles of gravity and intends to fly, to dart and dash, to ebb and flow.
A billion billion infinitesimal fragments of rock, individually insignificant, are bound together on the wind as they carve the panorama and all who dare oppose their exodus. Until, inevitably, their rapturous ecstasy must come to an end. The gale expires and the sand must once again succumb to gravity.
Finding a new resting place, the sand awaits. Ever patient. For it knows, it shall outlast us all.
We could learn a lot from the sand, for we are not so different. We are all moulded and shaped by our environment, as is the sand by the wind.
Our past dictates our future; the sand would not be where it is today had yesterday not come to pass.
Together, the powder can forge mammoth peaks which, while seemingly unmovable, are anything but rooted. Tidal winds hold the dunes in flux, sculpting the scenery.
Monstrous dunes made of more grains of sand than humans have ever lived are moved in the course of a single night. The only true constant here - as in all of life - is change.
This perpetual waltz of soaring dust, like time, cannot be arrested.
The fool may try in vain to grasp the sand as it sails past; they might pursue their quarry only to find themselves lost, and outnumbered. The imbecile might try to block the sand as it streams across the dunes, only to gaze on as the sand continues on, paying them no heed.
We cannot halt the sand, just as we cannot pause the advance of time.
We are not so different from the sand. Stronger than the sum of our parts. Capable of creating and forging, but also of ripping and rending. Enduring in our endless transformation and rigid in our flexibility. Ephemeral instances of serendipity immortalised in memory. We, as all things, find ourselves shrouded in Volatile Permanence.